A Head Full of Beauty

Two months ago a wonderful guy asked me to be his girlfriend. Three weeks ago I got my dream job at my dream bank. One week ago I ran a marathon. I painted on a bright red smile, zipped up the tight red dress and strode in sky high red shoes. I am finally the girl who has everything. This was what I had been dreaming, praying, wishing, working, crying and dying for since I was a girl. And you think that's it, that's the end of the fairytale. Except you can't be a fairytale princess when you're black inside. Black from the rot and the vomit and the pills. You look at me and see the girl who has everything. Oh god, if they knew the truth. I can't stop it. At the end of the fairytale, I can't let go of the eating disorder. I can't stop it.

"Why did you ask me out?" He paused for a few moments and considered his words. "Because I think you're really pretty. And I wanted to get to know you better." And on our fifth date, with those words, he dealt me another death sentence. Something inside me was desperately crying out for him to like me for more than how I looked. But of course I knew. It always is. Always. In my heart of hearts I know he is not the same, not as bad, not as soulless as the other men I'd known. But still, same enough in that respect. He tells me he thinks Miranda Kerr is really beautiful. Visions of her pencil-thin legs haunt me. I look at pictures of her and see I am twice her size. I choke. I have written about all the guys I've fallen for since I've been blogging but as yet have told you very little about Joe - the 'nice boy' mentioned in my last few posts. When I read my old posts about Theo, Alex, and all the others, it has served to give me ...