A Head Full of Beauty

I have to begin by saying thank you for all the positive comments. I was really moved. Things are still on a general low, and there have been lots more tears and screaming with my mum, but I'm staying strong through it all :) And the maintenance has finally broken!!!!! Oh so happy, oh so worth it. I feel very empty and numb at the moment, which is very unsual for me. I'm usually either bouncing off the walls or pumped with emotion, caught up in my own great big desructive tornado. I think it's my current job. 7am to 10pm at a desk...doing nothing...braindead...souldead. Go home to sleep and then do it all again. just over two weeks to go and then its over, thank God. Why haven't I blogged for a week? A head full of beauty numbed with boredom. At least when I'm chaotic I know I'm alive. My job, however, has taught me that I have another obsession which equals my obsession with food. To regular readers, this may come as no surprise. I need male attention. I need s...

I started this blog in January - just over six months ago - as a tool to vent my emotions, explore my motivations, reveal my weaknesses... to find a place in a community where I could let my social mask of normality fall and be truthful, above all else. But my weight in this six months has pretty much maintained. Fasts being replaced by binges. Vomiting being followed by more eating. In the grip of bulimia, flirting with starvation, getting drunk until I fuck up. I am not classed as 'overweight''. I never have been. Is it purely Body Dysmorphic Disorder that made me hate my body? What made my face, my arms, my legs, my torso, my tummy, my bottom, my whole entire white, fleshy, exterior shell become my nemesis? As far as I can recall, I was 'normal' until the age of nine. That's when I decided I was fat. I wasn't. I can tell you that now, looking back at photos, I was absolutely tiny. But facts don't matter - I hated my body because I was fat. And that ...

Another week of being locked in my room. Another week of missing uni. I cannot bear to be seen right now. I don't just feel hideous, I know I am. I am, fuck it, underneath the carefully applied makeup and nice clothes I'm fucking hideous. My clothes are horrifically tight after all the amount of weight I've put on this week. I know it's been loads, and I don't have the guts to stand on the scales and see what I've done to myself. I went on the most mental binge I've ever known on Wednesday after my friend's birthday. Two packets of crisps (the massive sharing bags!), a packet of biscuits, a tub of ice cream , 4 sandwiches and not to mention bottles and bottles of alcohol. Of course the next day because I was hungover and felt like crap I had to go on another binge and so on. My mate had a massive go at Oliver on my behalf. I made a massive fool of myself in general going around telling everyone how much I liked him. I humiliated myself on a massive scale...

I’m sitting on the train at the moment because I’ve been at home for the weekend – expect it was a weekend that extended to Thursday! I don’t where you are reading this, but my hometown is London, England. On Sunday night and all through Monday we were hit by the heaviest snow in 18 years. This resulted in the whole of our glorious capital city being effectively shut down! No big red buses roaming the streets, no trains and hardly even any taxis! Shameful? Just a bit. So anyway, no one could get to work, and I doubt most people even stepped outside their front door. Four days later and the snow is still sitting thick on the ground and hasn’t melted an inch! It’s absolutely foreign. You should have seen me this morning dragging my lead-weight suitcase through the thick-set ice and snow on the paths. It was horrific! There was absolutely no point on having wheels on the bloody thing because it just wouldn’t move! So of course I was late, missed my trains, had to buy another really expens...

I have, of late, been living a reversed life. Reversed in the sense that I stay up all night and go to bed in the morning. I've had a mountain of deadlines this week and more next week for all my university assessments, and for some reason, I just can't work during the daytime but work incredibly well at night. More than this, however, I think there is also an underlying fear of daylight. I've had this phobia since I was in my mid-teens. I remember in the morning before I went to school, I would spend so long getting ready, putting my make-up on, covering each single blemish, then re-covering it, then re-doing my hair, and then changing it again...I keep on and on amending myself until I looked bearable. I was frequently late for school, not because I overslept, but because I couldn't find the courage to step outside. In unnatural light or in the evening, I usually can cope with how I look. If I look in the mirror while I'm under daylight or very bright light, I a...

‘Being so caught up, So mastered by the brute blood of the air, Did she put on his knowledge with his power Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?’ I have no right to write this. This is a silent cry. The memory is a blur. But I remember his few sickening words. I can’t write them. The buzz that night set me alight and I was loving it. I set the part. I looked the part. I played my part – to perfection. I recall just two brief snapshots of it - but I can’t write them. I can’t put those two moments into words. They are just two images, engraved in the forefront of my mind, and every waking moment they haunt me. There I was, there’s my picture, there I am. Somebody help her, somebody get her out, somebody, please, anybody! Why didn’t you tuck me into bed and kiss me goodnight. Like a father would. Don’t you know that’s all I want. Perhaps I hope that if I don’t write it, it won’t be true. Perhaps I’ll forget. The spaces of blackness make me terrified. Sick. Horrified. Find me th...

In early 2008, I discoverd that I have Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD). Before I read up on it, I never knew it existed, and certainly never understood what it meant. Most of my friends were familiar with my insecurities and bad times over the years, and it had been such an established part of my life that I didn’t really question it or see it as a problem. I hated the way I looked and I was obsessed with losing weight - that was just the way it was. I didn’t see it as a problem; it was just the way I lived my life. Even when I was as young as 6 and 8 I remember specific instances when I broke down publicly because I felt so hideous and beat myself up for being fat. Those were the happiest times of my life, and I was super skinny then!! I should probably have picked up on my problems long before I reached 20. Of course High School was the ultimate horror for me. I would not get on the bus because I couldn’t bear people looking at me. I would cry in front of the mirror and claw at my...