Look How I Fell

I think that sometimes, my drunken posts (which have been few) are some of the best. So here is my two pence drunken thoughts for this evening (morning).

I have just completed three days of the Dukan Diet (my three days of the attack phase of pure protein only.)
Day one, admittedly was a struggle. I smelt like protein - fish scent and poultry odour pouring from my very pores. It was hard. But I did it. Day two was easier, but still smelt like a piece of rotton protein. Day three and I'm thinking I could go on like this forever were it apart from the fact that I would kill for an apple.
At lunch, I swished the food around my plate to make it look like I was eating and maintained the most wonderful air of superiority and self control - just like the good old days.

Originially, several years ago, the bulimia spread from this girl who couldn't handle nightclubs and men and mirrors all in one go. I used to do it over and over and over again to myself, the torture, boys and music and reflections. But I have been safe since I've been here - no alcohol, no men, no deviation from the straight and narrow rails.
But this evening, I went out, and drank, and have binged. Two bowls of cereal, peanut butter, 3 kitkats, chocolate spread...
On the dancefloor the rage spread through me. If Alex had been there I'd have grabbed him by the neck and strangled him to death, screaming my anger at him. As it was, I stood in front of the mirror, over and over again, just like all those nights at university, same, never changing... never changing. There was nothing in my makeup bag to change the relfection in the mirror, no matter how many times I went in, no matter how long I stood there.

I pulled a guy, kissed him hungrily, ran my hands through his hair and spread my hands across his chest just like I used to do with Alex, felt his abs and biceps beneath his shirt, hungered for him, hungered so bad. Fed.

I was craving.

Wait, make that 4 bowls of cereal.

Oh God I was so hungry. Am so hungry. He tasted of beer and man, just like I remember boys used to taste. I didn't care a damn except that he tasted good, felt good, satisfied me.
I need to be sick - am going to be sick - when I've finished this. But it will feel wonderful, it will be the best feeling I've had all night,
and then tomorrow I go to Dukan
and the gym
and more and more and more
because I just wanted to be one of those girls, I wanted to put my hand around Alex's throat, I wanted all the boys down on their knees.

You want to know what kind of a person I am? That's the kind of person I am.
I hungered for the days when I played with men in my hand like putty. When I walked like a priceless untouchable through a room full of men, when Hugh and Rowan fought their Public School Boy wars over me, when Alex was just one of so many impressionable little boys that I dangled from my little finger.
Look how I fell.

Bulimia is a purging of the evil. fed by my nights as a girl