A Head Full of Beauty

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...

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...

"Do you think I'm thin, average or fat?" I asked Rob as we walked out of the tube and towards the nightclub. "Thin!" he said. "God, average is horrible! I like women thin, proper model thin, that's what it's about. None of this junk in the trunk shit. I look at some girls that guys really fancy and I'm just like - Put down the fork love!" "Wow," I said, genuinely shocked at the way he then went on to talk about a number of my healthy-sized colleagues. "It's refreshing to not have to listen to the age-old 'men like women with curves' story that most men feel necessary to go on about." "Yeah, I don't know why girls don't work hard to be thin! Seriously, put down the fork!" I had indeed put down the fork that day, so no doubt, Rob would have approved. After a dosage of laxatives I'd only had a small bowl of soup at lunch in order to keep my tummy flat for that evening. Most of the peo...

Apologies for being absent for so long. The past week has been... crazy, emotional, sleepless... exciting . I've been writing everything in my notebook - It's been necessary for me to still write about everything even though I have been unable to sit down at a computer and update this blog. So, what follows are my entries and self-analysis from the past week, dated when they were originally written... Monday 22 nd March - Things As They Stand I've known a few guys who would have given the world for Ophelia - they would have been great boyfriends to me... But I never deemed them good enough. Conversely, I have known many, many more guys who wanted nothing to do with me - except conquer me for a quick meaningless shag. So yes, I've been liked by so many guys, some superficially, some more deeply. People who don't know me can't believe I've been single for nearly four years now. Four years. It's true; I've been the subject of so much male attention a...

This blog is my crazy space. It is the only place in the world, where I can be crazy. - Or rather, it is the one place in the world where I can talk, uncensored, about my crazy behaviour in the real world. Sometimes - as with the story I am about to tell - some people see my crazy behaviour - but you guys get the full picture. I suppose, what I'm saying is that this blog is not just about my eating disorder. It's about the terrible insecurities in my head, the reckless behaviour and the irrationality that comes from my mental instability - All the things that have created my eating disorder and which are also borne from my eating disorder - Body dysmorphic disorder, need for male attention, shopping addiction, obsessions, reckless drunkeness ... the list of abnormalities goes on. Now, 'The Club'. I've mentioned it in posts before, but feel I should explain it better for the purpose of this story. I was a member of 'The Club' at my university in another par...

I seem to have been pretty on track recently. But what a blatant, disgusting lie to write that now. I have been on track and I would still be if it weren't for men alcohol and my stupid need for attention. I showed them what they were missing. A perfect slim dress with ruffles, red ribbon, red shoes, dark hair over my shoulders, sultry makeup. I surrounded myself with boys who couldn't have me. I was out of their league. I thrive on that adrenaline beat of the dancefloor . My life revolves around what I become in that space and who other people perceive me to be. I am the one they want. But I'm not, not at all, not really, not in the harsh reality of sober daylight. But I know for that space of time, I am something. I am vibrant and alive, you can touch me and I can respond. In the club, under the artificial lights, I am not beauty or fragility, I am desire... a sensual but sordid desire. It's now 7am. I was supposed to be on a coach back home to London for the weekend ...

Ok so, my new theory: If I don't buy food, I can't eat it... I've kept myself locked in my room the last few days and haven't really had anything left to eat in my flat other than tins of tuna (in water of course), some pieces of frozen chicken, frozen vegetables and porridge oats. The porridge oats have probably been my biggest downfall. Porridge and bread are my favourite binge foods, I can easily eat 4 bowls of porridge or a whole loaf of bread... I haven't bought bread in months... and I never buy milk anymore either, but I just can't get rid of the porridge! It really is one of the last things in the world that enables me to cope! (I make it with water not milk to save on calories) - tastes a bit naff, but still gives me the motivational kick I need! I've also discovered Nakd bars - if you haven't heard of them, find them! Basically, despite my eating disorder and desire not to eat, I am also completely obsessed with getting all my vitamins etc....

It has been a rough week to say the least. I haven't been into uni all week. Not once. Why? Because I'm a lazy, fat, drunken slut and I want to ruin my life as much as fucking possible. I need someone to fucking tread on me tonight and make me cry my eyes out. I really need to cry, get down on my knees and scream my lungs out, smash up all my posessions, slash my curtains and paint streaks of red acress my walls. Shit. It's fucking raging inside of me. I need to cut myself. but I have held off for so long...like 3/4 weeks or something I think? To try and get out some of this anger I have drawn red lines across my arms and legs. Apparently that is supposed to help because it looks like bleeding cuts, and I get that thrill and sense of satisfaction but without the permanent scars... but still, like I say, I need some pain, I need something to make me scream and cry and go crazy at. I have written the usual hate messages across my body in black marker pen: 'I will not eat...

So, that trip to Athens that I was raving about last week? Cancelled. As I arrive back at my flat on Tuesday afternoon having purchased 200 euros and two boxes of cereal bars I get a call on my mobile telling me that there's a strike at Athens airport and my flight out will be delayed by 24 hours minimum. The man recommended I get a full refund. So, I did, walked back into my cold little room and promptly scoffed both boxes of cereal bars in agony. So, no pretty photos from Athens. Just plain words from England. I finished my final essay in the end, handed it in a day late, and it was a pretty poor effort, but like I say, not really bothered, I just needed that final pressure off my shoulders. Yesterday I ate about 6 bowls of cereal, 4 slices of bread and lots of biscuits in a binge, and I actually have a physical tyre around my waist. I'm disgusting. Just sickening. I've been thinking recently about a guy I know - an old romance if you will - or well, it was a romance in...

I’ve just eaten a plate of rice with soy sauce because I was craving the saltiness. There is now nothing in my shared fridge at university which belongs to me :) I binged on a packet of cookies and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s this morning, but didn’t even enjoy a single mouthful. It was just compulsion I think. Last night, at about 5am, wringing my hands in madness at not having any junk food to binge on, I walked a mile up to my local 24 hour supermarket and ate a Sneakers Bar and a whole loaf of bread (yes, a whole loaf) on the walk back home again. To tell the truth, I had gone to try and buy some sea salt as well in order to do my first salt water cleanse. I could only find yucky table salt and didn’t fancy torturing my body with that. So, tomorrow morning I intend to search all the health food shops and supermarkets that I can in order to find some real sea salt! I’ve put on over half a stone over the Christmas period, which is, for want of a better word, disgusting. This is the fatt...