Objectifying Ophelia

It feels like I've been away forever.
In reality it's been what, 3 weeks?

I don't want to talk about my mother. I don't want to talk about what happened.
She hasn't forgotten, but she doesn't want to admit it.
I found myself in the darkest most chilling place... and I really, simply wanted to die. But I didn't. It takes more than that to kill me. I'm a fighter, remember.


But I had to come back here. It's odd, it's almost as if it was a resistance... I had to resist the urge to come back and write.
But I need this blog too much. I need it to keep me as grounded as it is possible for me to be.
I want to thank everyone who gave me support on the last post, and on all my posts throughout the 14 months I've been blogging. I know I'm terrible at replying, but I intend to catch up very soon.

There is so much to update you all on since I've been gone.
All the events in the past three weeks seemed dramatic at the time, and yet, now seem so irrelevant. All these little bursts of pain and glory will scorch and burn when they happen... and yet in the overall picture, their significance fades so quickly, overshadowed by what dramas the new week brings. It is a never-ending tirade of emotion.



The evening my mother went through all my things occurred because I went on a night out with 'the Club'. I didn't answer her calls and I didn't come home until 6am. I was escorted home by a another guy, Harry. He kissed me. A few times. I let him.
It meant nothing.
After we left the nightclub, I'd been calling D. He had promised me a place to crash. But he never answered. So Harry filled his place.

A week ago we had a big dinner night at 'the Club'. It was part of my responsibility to arrange the seating plan. I seated myself almost opposite D. But once the dinner was over and the socialising began, he didn't speak to me once. He didn't come and speak to me once. We're back to that again.
I don't care if he's crap with women. I don't care if he's intimidated by me. I don't care if he's nervous. It's fucking ridiculous. He can't like me...
By the end of the night I'd been hit on countless times, sometimes politely, but more often than not in ways less than charming. It was, on one level, incredible. I had never, never been in that situation before, where I had so many guys trying it on with me. I never thought I'd be able to feel so desired...
But what's the point? The only reason I put all that effort into making myself look my best was for D, not for any of the other guys in the place. And D was the only one who acted as if he didn't want me.

So, despite every other guy, I couldn't look in the mirror and see success. I looked in the mirror and saw something that wasn't good enough for D.


Since the events of the dinner night I've been feeling quite empty. I've made a lot of friends pretty quickly at 'the Club' since I first started socialising at the end of January. They are almost all guys. And I know the only reason they give me so much attention and time is because they want to sleep with me.
Not one person likes me for who I am inside. Not one guy there has befriended me because they like me as person. That's the bitterly harsh truth.
I'm pretty, I'm confident and I'm flirty. They want to be able to tell their friends they got with the new high rank third year girl. I'm a fucking conquest to boast of.
It makes me feel like utter shit.
Don't get me wrong, I love the attention, that's a big part of why I do all this; the only thing I need other than oxygen to breathe is male attention. This weekend the Club took part in a competition with other uni's. I found a pretty target (who I liked because he looked like Hugh) and went for him. I needed to do it, and if I had failed, I would have tortured myself (like I was always doing at uni). But something's changed; I won. I made eye contact, I introduced myself, I flirted and within minutes I had him all to myself. But when he walked me back to my room, I just gave him a peck on the cheek and said goodnight. I need attention, I need to win, but I'm not a slut, and to be honest, I have no craving for sex, especially with random men.

But now I'm losing this control. The weekend was not dissimilar to the dinner night - I was groped, I was hassled, I was spoken to in a derogatory manner and treated like an object. I've lost control because now it's not me seeking out guys, they're seeking me, and there's just too many, too lewd, too forward, too much... and no, not one has asked me out on a date, but they have all tried to grope me or take me home.
It breaks my heart, but looking at things, the reality is that I have to include D on that list.



But here's the main reason I needed to come back.
I'm going skiing in 10 days - it's a group trip with 'the Club'. D is going. Hugh is going. Rowan is going. One or two other guys who have tried it on with me are going (but generally most of the others are not, thank god...)
We'll be skiing in the day and out clubbing every night. We're even going to a spa on one of the days, which means a bikini... and apparently this trip is always full of lots of alcohol, bad behaviour, lust and sex.
Rowan, Hugh and D.
I have to look perfect.
I have to get every last remaining, disgusting inch of fat off my body.
I can't have a bad day, I won't be able to hide my face, my chunky thighs...
This is fucking serious. The last time I was supposed to go skiing I pulled out because I was too fat. I knew I'd die from the torture.
I can't pull out of this.
And I know, I know, that if I don't get rid of every horrible, wobbly curve on my body, it will be a week of intense torture.
D is going to break my heart on this trip. I know it. Unless I can somehow SOMEHOW be enough for him.

So, until I depart next Friday, it's coffee with sweeteners only. (I would say a water fast but I am at law school everyday and need to have some sort of energy...) I'm gonna try and get in the gym everyday and push myself until I want to throw up.
It's so possible. I've seen it happen. My body can handle it - because I know otherwise, my heart won't.


10 days, to starve, to sweat, to burn... to shine.