A Head Full of Beauty

Again, too much has happened that I don't know where to begin. Sometimes I wish my life would just slow right down again. I will just have to write it in bits, a full monologue is too much for me right now. Last Friday I nearly ended it with Theo. As I said, he was taking me out for my Christmas present. I took the afternoon off to get a massage, sit in the sauna, get my hair done and make sure I looked my best. It was the leaving drinks of someone at work so we both went along to that. Theo told me we would leave at 8:30pm. The time came and went, he did not make a move. He was drinking with his mates, I was standing with my friends, sipping my one glass of wine so I stayed sober to enjoy our dinner. I sent him a text - when are we going? He didn't check his phone. I went to sit upstairs trying to fight back the tears. I read back my last post on my blackberry... I must not take his cluelessness for lack of care, I must not act like a child and ruin this, I must not thro...

The problem with not posting for two weeks is that my life moves very quickly, and it is now impossible for me to accurately transfer my emotions from the first week (which were very different to this week) into the written word. However, I will do my best. After the drama of the work Christmas Party, I spent the final week in the lead up to the holidays waiting for Theo to ask to see me. He was going to France with his family over Christmas and I expected him to suggest we go out one evening that week before he went away. I'd eaten atrociously in the aftermath of the anxiety and stress of the Christmas party season and started the week half a stone heavier than when I had graced the floors of the dinner hall in my beautiful dress on Friday evening. The scales were now showing me a weight that I had not seen since August. I kid you not. Naturally I was tearing my hair out, and in my deep stupor of depression was unable to drag my sorry arse to the gym and run like crazy to burn...

I came home on Wednesday night realising that I had fallen hard. It was the leaving drinks of one of the management team and much of the office was out for the party - Theo included. I nervously watched the door of the venue until he came, the girls I worked with laughing at me for my childishness. When he finally arrived it was a while before we spoke to each other, and when we did it was just casual and normal as it would be between any work colleagues. As the evening began to wear on we became more flirty and more separate from the rest of the crowd. He looked gorgeous as ever, his big brown eyes burning into mine and making me so hungry for him. I wanted to hold his hand, wanted to cuddle up close to him, I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to be open about our relationship, but I couldn't because people that we worked with were around. It killed me. It made me anxious. At one point I turned wild with jealousy when I saw him talking to another girl from my depa...

It nearly didn't happen. Millie and Rhianna spent all of Tuesday trying to convince me that Theo didn't really like me. I was devastated and broken, but mostly I was angry. How dare they tell me who I should or shouldn't date, telling me that I'm nothing to him, just another girl he can fuck, that he should be behaving in a way that they deem more appropriate, chasing me like a lovesick puppy. I was furious and my self-esteem was in shatters again. Sure, he was rubbish at replying to my messages and never gushed his feelings towards me, but I'd only really known the guy a few weeks! They sat me down and told me that taking him out on Friday would be a terrible mistake because he didn't like me and would only hurt me. But I am a rebel. I rebel against anyone who tells me what to do, and my God, thank goodness that I do! I remembered the way we had talked for hours, I remembered the way we had laughed, I remembered he had made me feel something I hadn't fel...

The main point I need to make from my behaviour in my last post is a very strong and clear one: I am not a role model. I am not a role model in any physical way, shape or form. This is physically the most ill I have ever been. And there's no denying that. Even though I feel on top of the world, even though mentally I've never felt better, that's all kind of irrelevant. It's irrelevant because my body won't last - and what's the point of being happy and being so alive inside when you know the physical medium that's holding it all together won't last for too long. I am either starving and over-exercising; bingeing and purgeing multiple times a day; or abusing laxatives, or several of these at once. The weekend after I slept with Theo I started to get scared. I pumped my body full of junk food after ripping my digestive system to shreds. I began to be afraid for the first time that what I'd been doing was going to see me end up in hospital - and...

I studied a book at University called ‘Spasm’ in which the author suggests that someone might create an illness because she ‘knows no other way of telling her life’s tale...the illness a conduit to convey real pain.’ Is that what my eating disorder is to me? The desire to stuff my face and throw up, the need to run until my feet are blistered raw, the buzz from fasting and curling up in a ball locked in the toilet cubical - are these desires created or born from the inner pain I had for so many years and had no way of expressing or feeling physically? Cassio is in the dangerous position of making me remember who I am. I am the girl who devoured books and poetry, wandered around the galleries alone, writing, dreaming, opening up her bare, raw soul to the harsh elements of Art. He is a culture snob. Fine dining, classical music, expensive clothes, European languages, European cities. He could never love London like I do, even as an Italian, his heart will ...

Tuesday Scrolling down my emails on my work blackberry something is very clear- the last few days I have spent far too much of my time in the office flirting and far too little time working. After a fair amount of flirting and copious amounts of emails being pinged across the row of desks, I'm going out with the new guy in our department on Friday for drinks. As I explained guiltily to Rhianna: "I've been email flirting with Chris... But I don't fancy him - he's just SO good to flirt with!" And all of that statement is true- I don't fancy him, I just like pretending that I do... And I imagine he's the same - his asking me out for drinks wasn't asking me on a date, after all, banter is banter, banter isn't a relationship. So hopefully it won't be awkward and I won't get carried away beyond the bounds of flirting. As for Sam, I seem to be more attracted to the older brother everyday. All I keep thinking is of his arms underneath ...

See Part One here . I sit down at my desk first thing on Wednesday morning to find an email waiting for me from Aiden, the City Lawyer. I read it hurridly and smiled. "Aw, so sweet...he's so sweet." This is the standard reaction I seem to have from every message he sends me. He's incredibly thoughtful and sincere, a textbook nice guy. He had no reason to email me and I wasn't expecting to hear from him until he was back in the UK at the end of the month. His unsolicited email indicated that he'd been thinking about me. His emails were getting more personal, he was talking about emotions, things he likes, experiences and dreams... With every email he sent I began to recoil from him further. Of course in my replies I gave him just as much back, but I couldn't help thinking that he was giving too much to start with and being too keen. I would never have sent him emails like that - and I'm queen of keen. The final nail in the coffin came with: "I'...

"Do you hate Harry?" asked Rob, "No." "Well, I just thought... you just said you hated men, that Harry might be one... because you haven't seen him since..." "I don't know the guy. How can I hate him." I retorted aggressively. "Ok, ok" he said, surrendering, "I only have myself to blame for everything with Harry. I only have myself to blame." We were sitting on the top of One New Change again eating our salads. I was angry. Talking about relationships always made me angry. I hate men, it's true, I hate them, I hate them for the power they have over me, the desire that I can't control, the need that I have for them. I hate men. I hate all the men that I have starved for, thrown up for, taken laxatives for, exercised for, wasted my money for and wasted my precious time on. I hate them all for leaving me with nothing but a sick, empty, worthless feeling in the pit of my rotten stomach. All the men that I have neve...

I nearly had a breakdown at work on Tuesday - nearly. I overcame it by eating a bowl of porridge (damn fucking weak). I sat at my desk, mid-afternoon, feeling the anxiety building up in me. My head was reeling, I was so hungry - no I wasn't - I just thought I was hungry - all I'd had was juice and a bowl of vegetable soup - I wasn't hungry. Then the panic set in. Panic about what I'm not sure. I had to get rid of the fat - but how? How! Shit, shit, shit. I was sitting at my desk completely still and yet completely frantic. I had work to do; I had to eat. I stole off to the kitchen and made myself a bowl of porridge, taking it back to my desk to slowly feed it into my body as one would feed a pooly child their medicine. Crisis averted. The highlight of my day is often - believe it or not - lunchtime, when I get to stroll around the City with my two best friends in the office, Rob and Rihanna. It's the highlight of my day for the laughter ...

Thank you to all the old followers of my previous blog for joining me in this new chapter, and welcome to all those who are starting this new journey with me. My age is creeping up on me. I will 24 in a few weeks. "I'm too old to do shit like this," I told Harry when I woke up in his bed a week ago. It's true, I am, it's not the life I want to lead anymore - it never was. The problem with me is that in all my 24 years of life, I don't think I've ever learnt any lessons from my multitude of mistakes. I am disappointed in myself, because I know that Harry will become one in a long line of men who wanted a piece of me, but didn't want all of me - and like all the men before him, I will blindly continue in my teenage fantasy that he will put a ring on my finger. - Ok I don't want to marry the guy after having spent one night with him - but it doesn't mean to say that I haven't thought about him every day and obsessed about when I will see him n...