Keep Your Shit Together

All right, let's make this brief, shall we? There's really no need to ramble on and on in a recap of my ED related foolishness...

I had a pretty decent day. Was exhausted yesterday after continuing my 2 lb a day weight loss...of course I'm doing it the unhealthy way. Rapidly, foolishly, slightly obsessively. Meh. The calendar keeps telling me that time is shifting from being on my side to moving on, so I don't have the 'luxury' of being Team Fit Fam (hah) and doing it "the right way" through normal - whatever that is - exercise and a well-balanced diet.

Not like I fucking care. I could die tomorrow from some freak accident and I'd still be skinny-ish, whether it was from barfing or bike riding so whatever, la! Let me do what I have to do for the time being so I can make sure my fat ass gets thin by the time I have to board that plane! Hmph.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. So I'd been tired from my stupid gym obsession and I think I'm becoming dependent on coffee (gross) despite my effort to just limit my intake and only use when extremely necessary. So today/yesterday I decided to take it easy! Don't worry about work or doing a bunch of errands or being *terribly* productive! Just stay happy(ish) and make sure not to tip the scale *no pun intended* towards my freak-out state of mind where I rage and eat everything in sight. No more of that shit, right!

Right. For about 18 hours of the day. Then I met up with a friend and it went downhill from there. Despite me making it clear and she already knowing I don't eat, or at least didn't want to this time, I still managed to kind of get coerced into having just a bit of an appetizer and I *know* in hindsight, and in the rational part of my brain, that it wasn't even anything but it made me uncomfortable.

Ok, no worries. Still had an awesome time, just go home and go to the gym, right? Wrong! She immediately lost her wallet after we left the restaurant, somehow, and my stupid, over-sensitive ass felt bad and bought her a new one. Why? I don't know. I have this awful nagging feeling I'm just bad luck. Seriously. I think that I make everyone's life worse that I know. Whether this is actually true or not, who knows? But I overcompensate.

And then I felt ridiculous for being supersitioius/unfounded in my feelings (because I'm usually pragmatic) and it made me feel bad. I didn't have a meltdown or a complete hissy fit, but I did attempt to binge/purge and, like the forever failure that I am, I fell asleep after just a bowl of ramen. Score! My body went into auto-shutdown mode to prevent serious damage.

So, that's basically it. Oh yeah, I'd been giving my husband a hard time/not playing nice/not intentionally ignoring him the last few days, and then yesterday while I was out, my phone wasn't updating his emails (remember, I cut him off so he can only email me so he can't trigger me or get under my skin). I missed a few of his messages and when I finally did see them, I was in the throes of my eating mania and blurted out that I felt bad for throwing away money like that again, and surprisingly, he just said: you did a nice thing. Treat yourself to something good too and don't worry.

Hold up, who are you? And what did you do with my dense slug of a husband? *pause* I guess everyone has their moments, huh? :-| Whatever, he's leaving for China next week and just told me he'll in fact have to go to Shanghai after all, so who knows what he's up to or what's going on with that. Dunno, don't particularly care. Just come back and keep your job, dude.

Well, that wasn't a particularly short summary of my day's foolishness, but it was thorough!

Now, I can go ceremoniously and symbolically purge and finally get some sleep within the next hour. Which is stupid, cos the gym opens in 90 mins...sigh...

Full of Emptiness...

Here I am, forcing myself to stay away from the bathroom and willing my stomach to hurry up and digest just a little bit faster so even if I do get up and try and purge, the contents will already be in my intestines and I'll be shit out of luck.

Isn't that ridiculous?

Know what else is something I'm having a hard time dealing with? I want to be happy...I even have more moments that feel, well...OK. "Normal." Pleasant, even. It just sucks because I'm alone. I have no real friends. Hell, I've changed numbers and locations and residences so often in the last 5 years my own family doesn't even know where exactly I am right now. I keep running from my sordid, depressing past thinking I can leave the gloom behind and just reinvent myself.

It works...for a while, at least. But then the old familiar feelings of inadequacy, loneliness and guilt come from the depths of my despair and I find myself right back in some wormhole of self-hating. I wonder what is wrong with me and if I'll ever really find someone who understands and cares about me. If I'll ever have another person to share my highs with, my thoughts, my aspirations...I used to also wonder who would be there for me when I was at my worst - would I suffer alone behind closed doors and have to wipe the misery away and paint on a fake fucking smile, day in and day out for the rest of my goddamn life until I die, just like my poor mother? Jeezus christe, what the hell would keep me from killing myself if that was the case??

Thankfully, I found the wonderful world of Twitter, and just go on there and say whatever the fuck I feel like saying and all the nasty little things on my mind as they pop up, so that's a good release/outlet for my negativity. But still, for my positive moments? They didn't used to be so few and far between before. When I was younger, I was still hopeful. I still had daydreams of finding my own Tuxedo Kamen or being the Chi Chi to some dreamy Goku, or having my own English Patient to take care and fall madly in love with...I was such a naive little nerd.

Now, I'm like: meh. I'm one big :-| since I saw just how stupid and ugly the world can be and usually is. I just had to turn my emotions off, become a hardened, stereotypical Bitch, and shuffle through my days. I was focused on my ED and controlling the abuse I put my body through, because I felt so powerless as to the way others treated me and made me feel small (but not physically small, I'm still fat/huge) and ineffective.

Then, I had a breakthrough. I won that stupid lawsuit against that POS slumlord ex-judge/psycho con-artist and I felt like Samson with a new head full of weave in: who the fuck could stop me if I was determined? I don't need anyone but myself and my will of steel to get through this fucking life. I mean, try as I may, I can never escape myself, right? I'm not psycho. I know I'm not. All those stupid hospital stays and anti-depressants were nothing but money pits that made a bunch of people richer and made me even more depressed at just how shitty some other people's lives are. Especially when the fucking medical staff all but tsked at me and told me to get my shit together and suck it up, cos my life isn't so bad and I was way too young to give up just yet.

And in a sense, they were right. I knew then and still know now that no fucking pill was going to make the world a better place - that's my fucking issue. The *rest* of the world brings me down - the violence, the crime, the racism, the sexism, the injustice, the bigotry, the misogyny, the xenophobia, the judging, the...I could go fucking on forever. Why the fuck should *I* dope myself up on some caustic shit just so I can cope with my racist in-laws calling me an animal and pretending I don't exist because I have more melanin in my skin than they do?

Are you fucking kidding me?

No, I'll pass.

Instead, I finally said: to hell with my loser husband. He fucks both younger, stupid girls and older, pathetic women because he himself is a loser. He can't ever be with someone his own age that's intelligent because she's smart enough to see that he's a cad and not worth anyone's time who is not a total burnout herself. What kind of idiot would I be to still stay with him if I'm trying to get my life in order and overcome the years of isolation and subtle rejections I felt. If I truly believe that there's nothing wrong with me, that I deserve happiness as much as the next person, that despite not having any discernible chest and just a small, scraggly little afro, that I'm still a beautiful enough woman in my own right (no more and no less than any other female walking on this planet, at least. Shit.), why the hell would I still put up with any bullshit in my life?

Not just from my fake husband, either - but from anyone? I've always been a propenent of speaking my mind and the more I saw in the news about family members or neighbor's who would give interviews after someone died or was gone or killed themselves, the more I realized there's no point in keeping shit to yourself. The people yammering away in the camera would always say "but we had no idea!" "We never knew." "Such-and-such always *seemed* to be..." Like, what the fuck? Did these people really not know the person, or was the person just that good at hiding what was going on? I'd never want to wind up dead in my car somewhere and have some asshole give an official statement like: Well, she was just so happy and I can't imagine what could have happened! I would come back from the dead and slap the shit out of whoever would say that cos it would be a fucking lie. And I'm pretty sure anyone who really knows me, or even knows me in passing, knows what shit I can't stand and what gets my goat.

Anyway, what the fuck am I even saying? Oh yes: so I've conquered my demons somewhat in that I'm not actively trying to kill myself and won't do anything sudden like jumping off a bridge, or wading out into the ocean to drown, or gassing myself in the bathroom with charcoals. Too much room for error and I don't want to wind up brain-dead or paralyzed.

So. That leaves me with possibly 80 more years to live. Knowing my luck all the preservatives and shit I've eaten will keep me on Earth until forever and a day somehow so I need to find out how to not be miserable every day, right? While I do have some pretty shitty cards in my hand, there's still the rest of the deck to go through, right? There's the possibility that I'll get even more crappy cards, but then there's the possibility that I won't. Basically, I need to just deal with what I have in front of me and what I can control and give the :-| to the shit that I can't.

If staying in and watching nerdy shows and reading random articles and doing techie stuff makes me happy, then so be it. Yes, it's not exactly how I'd like to spend my nights, but part of me is happy and that's better than none of me being happy, right? So what I don't have a best friend. I didn't come into this world fucking joined at the hip to some other person's kid, right? When push comes to shove all you can rely on is yourself, and even that is fallible, right?

Once I lower my expectations, more things seem to be less irritating or surprising. While it sounds kind of bad, and I guess it is, maybe my standards were just ridiculous ideals to begin with. Perhaps I took things too literally as a child and believed those who told me not to judge a book by its cover, and that there's someone for everyone out there, and that we're all the same. Maybe that stuff doesn't apply all the time: some hos are just hos, maybe there is a mate for everyone but maybe you'll die before you find him, and perhaps we're all the same in that we all have flaws and imperfections.

I don't have some pithy little way to tie this up. I probably should have written this in my journal but it would have taken too long. Anyway! I had an OK day even though it was uneventful and I'm slacking off at work. I have a feeling I'm either a) going to go to Japan and not come back or b) become so nonchalant about my job that I just quit. That's another big shortcoming of mine: I'm either super gung-ho or I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass about things. Starving for six days or gorging six pounds of food I don't even like. I really need to work on moderation. And concise bog entries -__-"

Fat Again, Time to Write About It

Not much has changed since this time last year: I'm still fat, still hate my thighs, still wasting money eating and vomiting and laying in bed alone. A year older and am I any happier?

Definitely not but at least I have finally come to terms with my sham of a marriage. My "husband" made it super clear that he will never love me the way I would like and that's that. So I made it super clear that I will expect half of his earnings for as long as he's in America. After all, he would not be where he is now without my anorexic ass so he can just keep funding my binge food. At least it won't be my money going down the drain.

I had a fling with an Israeli guy for a few months - don't ask me why. He had slightly jacked up teeth, was going bald - well, practically already there - and had no direction in life. In hindsight, it was a waste of my time and as usual, I let it go on for far too long. At first, it was just nice to feel wanted and to get some decent dick whenever I wanted. But then he got too serious, always talking about his parents and his family and bringing up religion and monogamy. I was like, "ummmm....did you forget that I'm still married to a dog? I'm technically a cheating whore and you're an adulterer and you wanna talk about monogamy?" Anyway, he was just a loser at the end of it all. He was fired from his job and lost his apartment and car that came with it. I foolishly told him he could stay in my little cubicle of a place if he needed to, but never thought the day would actually come that he would take me up on my offer. What a bad idea!

He was there for almost a month (with a week break while he went to another island to do more of nothing) and I had no privacy and no time to myself. This meant no thinspo, no purging, no binging my feelings of inadequacy and frustrations out. In addition to not having an outlet for my disordered emotions, I now had to eat with this fucker all the time and of course I started to gain. Damn I'm glad he's gone. He had a nice body when I first met him but after a few months even his crazy abs were going away and so was my fleeting attraction to him. I thought he would keep me from slacking off and getting fat and it was the complete opposite. He left for South America and I was really sad for a few days because while he was a major bum, he was company at least.

But after I realized what useless drifter he was, I quickly got over it and stopped talking to him. Actually, only after he said he didn't think we would meet up in January to travel to all the countries he kept telling me he wanted to see with me, was when I finally was like: ok, why the fuck am I still talking to this idiot? Oh, did I mention he always wanted his dick sucked but never wanted to go down on me? He said he tried it once on a woman and wasn't a fan. Excuse me? Then kindly get your penis out of my face before I bite it and spit it in the trash. The nerve of some people.

Where is this post going? Nowhere fast, apparently. Anyway, that's a brief catch up of what's been going on. I was mentally preparing to toss all my shit and fly to some new place and live off my "husband's" dime for half a year and see where the wind takes me, and now I'm back at square one: living in a hotel like a nomad and willing my thighs to go away. At least I'm not suicidal and I have my own car this time around (not renting - yiyuh!). I've also stopped giving two shits about my job and the fact that I wasted half my life being a kid genius with "so much potential" when I could have just not given a fuck earlier and wound up still a disappointing failure.

On that note, I'm going to hit the toilet once more and settle in for some crap television (aren't I witty?) and thinspiration. I need to take advantage of the hotel's sauna before I possibly move in two weeks. As Ana is my witness I want to get under 110 so I can stop having my fucking period.

Feeling Grumpy + Cold

I feel like HWSNN won't fucking shut the fuck up today - talking on and on and on about fucking nothing and getting on my last fucking nerve! He's beyond annoying! Every time I'm trying to do anything, he just opens his mouth so he can hear himself talk (literally, no exaggeration) and I can't even concentrate on whether to drink this or that, order this or that, purge now or in two minutes. Plus, I've started to let him drive because I'm fucking tired as shit all the time, and every time he's behind the wheel, I feel myself on the verge of having a heart attack. He never fucking listens! Just now, we were almost swiped by a truck and I'm sure his ass didn't even get why or realize the gravity of colliding with a semi. Of course, I would be the one ripped to shreds because it was on my side that he was drifting, just to keep that in mind. Maybe he's secretly trying to off me with all this bad driving, make it seem like an accident...hm...

Anyway, I'm in a foul as fuck mood because I spent all that time in the gym today only to get down to 118.2 That's the rate I used to be losing but once I decided to make up and try and do double time, I've been losing at least 1.x lbs so I see a different number every day. This is just what I was dreading would happen: the effort I put in is no longer enough, I'm already giving it my all, and my weight loss starts to stall. 118. 1 fucking 18. Would it have killed my body to sweat just a little more so I could see 117 today and know that I'm that much further from 120? My day feels like it was wasted (might as well eat that whole truck of food, pass the tabasco, please) and it makes me angry and nobody in particular. Other than myself. 

On top of that, I crave everything over ice, so I have less of it and so I don't chug it, but that shit lowers my body temperature faster than a skinny can say "Splenda instead of sugar, please!" I'm always FREEZING after I rehydrate and stay FREEZING until I can pile on my boots and coat and sweater and whatever else, then I'm PISSED that I wasted time trying to plan a cute outfit or wear this skimpy top/dress that shows off my small arms because no one can even see them under all these goddamm layers - what's the fricken point??? Ugh, just thinking about how today was such a disappointment seems to have raised my body temperature (I'm wearing two coats and typing like the world's about to end so that may also have something to do with it) slightly, so that's nice. Let me try and be positive - I wore this bright yellow jumper in an effort to cheer myself up and I'm probably the most irritable I've been in a while. All because I couldn't sweat out .4 more lbs before I went and ate/purged. So fucking lame.

Oh yeah, I really wanted to pamper myself a bit before going to this crappy club tonight, but HWSNN insisted on eating, and all the spas closed by the time that was done. Marvelous. Then it was too late to squeeze basketball in - fantastic! I'm not going to waste anymore time bitching on here. Clubs close so goddam early over here (1:30, are you kidding me!!!) that I want to get there early and be the only one shaking my (newly) flat ass on the dancefloor if necessary, because I have to make up for today's string of disappointments. Oh gawd, what will I wear? I don't want to wear something skimpy, I want to be covered head to toe and just sweat my life out! But that shit isn't cute! Ah, l'sigh. I'm not going to stress though. Everyone's busted and beyond fat/sloppy in this town. By me showing up in something other than pajamas is an automatic placement at the top of the best dressed list, no lie.

I *must* be in constant motion tonight and sweat like nobody's business ('cos it's not) and I *must* make it to 2 classes tomorrow: Total Core/Shaping/Fusion/Some bullshit and Aqua Athletics or whatever it's called to make up for today. Almighty Scale, show mercy and fucking let me see 117 tomorrow, I implore you! Your humble servant can only take so much, wah~

Can't Slack Off/Relax...Not Now

Just wrote 2 paragraphs chronicling my failures and weak moments over the past weekend, and I guess even Blogger didn't want to see that shit get posted, because my computer had to be re-booted. Anyway, all I did was bla bla bla about how it was stupid to try and lie to myself that it's ok to drink energy drinks like a fish and not work out, but stand around like a lazy asshole and sleep all day instead of going to do cardio and walking at least 5 miles. Wrong! Obviously! I retained all that water and ballooned up like a goddam blimp. Coupled with my evil, pointless period, I was sucking up and retaining every little bit of moisture in the air possible. Disgusting!

Sooo, I went all the way up to 129 I think on Monday, sweated down to 127 or so, then 128 yesterday and sweated down to 126, then 127 maybe (I tend to block out the first number after it shocks me awake pre-gym) and back down to 125 today. Oh lord. I played a solid 40 minutes of basketball tonight (I stuffed, trash-talked, and played *hard* D - 'not in MY house, fool! - the whole time) and really felt good. I pushed through 600 vertical and cross crunches, 8 push ups (forgot to do the 2nd half, must do some before bed, now that I remember), and 2 sets of 10 inner thigh crunches or whatever their fancy name is called.

Ok, so here's my regular couple of sentences devoted to how much I hate my thighs. Seriously now, I am soooo over them! They have passed the point of being the freak that keeps showing up to the events with all the funny, interesting, likable people, that just shows up and kills the mood. Nobody wants to be around, see, or even acknowledge them, and yet, there they are...time after time. They are so unsightly and just in the way - like, gawd! Just fucking go back to where you came from! Why are you still here? No, no really. Get the fuck out of here. Security?!? I have ribs ready to take out an eye, a clavicle you can pick your teeth with, and thighs that you can use as flotation devices in the event of an emergency. *Hums "One of These Things is Not Like the Other"* How annoying. Just why, oh, why can't I look even and balanced? Plus, my hair's becoming a flat, smooshed mess because of all the steam room time I spend lying on my back. I have to find new positions, but that's the most comfortable one and allows me to stay in there for the longest. I can deal with a lopsided 'fro for now if it means more weight loss - I already look like a fat, ugly mess, who the hell is noticing my hair when my thighs are flapping around making babies cry and old ladies faint?

Anyway, I really need a new computer, and already decided I wouldn't get one until I'm out of the 120s. Well guess what? This chick is sick of worrying about her adapter becoming unplugged because her shit would shut down immediately or the fact that her monitor is hanging on to the keyboard by a wish and a dream and little else. It's time to get serious and fucking drop 6 pounds by Monday and start the week off with a new set of #s and a new goddam laptop. A'int no ifs, ands, or big butts about it! I want a new toy to play with and cheer me up! 5 days, 5 pounds. I must do this. I have to make up for lost time.

Hot Sauce + Dairy = Trouble

Went to Denny's yesterday with H.W.S.N.N. It was his first time (natch) and he ordered 2 separate breakfast meals. No surprise there, he's a real fat ass at heart and so am I, no wonder we were drawn to each other (at first anyway). I of course basically did the same. I won't go into details so I don't trigger any of you poor souls into late-night Julia Child's style binging, but it was serious. I even got iced coffee - 'For energy at the gym after!' - to round things out. Biiiiiiiiiig fucking mistake. Second mistake? Dousing everything in some bootleg hot sauce like I was 15 again!

I used to eat food so spicy when I was younger, I would just numb my tongue into oblivion. And not the kind of hot that is like, one green pepper seed in a vat of stew. I know how some people are (Like, omigawd! I'm on fiyah!). No, I'm talking about, Shit, is that another ulcer forming? Why couldn't I have asked for mild this time? I was raised with heat all around. I think my mother would give me chili peppers to suck on instead of a bottle, if my memory serves me correctly...spicy has always been my pal.

Until yesterday. The combination of this no-name tobasco sauce that was probably first bottled in the '70s, coupled with the probably whole fatty-fat milk in my iced coffee (or the more "conservative" half and half, hah. Half fat mixed with no fat is still fat, dummies!) made for a slow-acting laxative. H.W.S.N.N. has finally realized that I'm serious about disappearing and has taken to sitting in booths with me and blocking me in so I can't purge while he's paying the bill. Well, the anxiety of feeling all that goddamm Denny's traveling through my system into my intestines where I'd be too late to hurl them out must have light the match that ignited my bowels because I could hardly make it 5 mins down the road to the bathroom in his office.

After doing damage there, we went to the gym and I couldn't even whoop his ass on the basketball courts because I was still feeling weak from taking a semi-legit crap, the first in 2 weeks. So, instead, I masked my ED cold sweat by punishing myself in the steam room. As *soon* as I got out, back to the toilets! Oh gawd, it was horrible. I really thought I was going to be found dead and naked in that crummy gym's bathroom. What a fitting end. Just the thought of the indignity of it all gave me enough energy to shuffle my droopy ass out to the showers and fling on my clothes.

That night was tough. I was empty and tired and knew I had work early this morning full of standing and smiling and general fake fucking positivity (that shit takes energy!) so I forced H.W.S.N.N. to drag his ass to 7-11 and get me juice and chips. Yes, I said it: FOOD. I drank all 16 oz of that shit (so sweet!) and ate most of those goddamm oily pieces of regret. I fell into a tormented sleep but managed to stay conked out until dawn. Usually I wake up in the middle of the night (either I was socked in the face or the neighbors are high and fighting/roaming the streets) so I took this as a sign of extreme exhaustion after trying to digest all that crap.

Anyway, I was late for the gig today, as usual, and I just walked in like nothing was amiss. If you don't make a big deal then chances are other people won't either. Unless they are some nosy, stick-in-the-mud pricks that are out to ruin your day. Luckily, that was not the case. I immediately cracked open what I *thought* was my new best friend (but like all "good" friends, I was betrayed) those sexist, pink Rock* energy drinks and had about 5 sips before I started feeling doped up. Like, I was on Twatter, posting a new message every 15 seconds kind of feeling. I had to check the ingredients (is there smack in here?) and then check my pulse. It was a weird, uneasy feeling. I didn't finish the can and just had ice water. Passed out in my car during my extended break and somehow managed the day without incident.

Had Japanese food, too much as usual. Purged it, but maybe not thoroughly enough. Felt fat, weak, and disgruntled, so I again skipped basketball - I'm glossing over this because I'm so mad at myself for being weak - and went straight to the steam room (my sanctuary) for 30 minutes. The experience was nearly ruined by a gassy lady that kept farting or queefing or SOMETHING for the .2 seconds she lasted. Thank god she was too frail to stay in there for any longer. She looked like she was a few sweat drops away from dying herself. Should have asked her for some advice now that I think of it...

Anyway, here I am. Bought some liquid Hello Pussy sugary shit drink from the Japanese convenience store (why is it pink *and* slightly bitter???) that disappointed me. Also got some other shit I shouldn't have, but I won't go into details so no one's triggered. I'm not proud of eating, but I don't want to make a fucking scene this weekend by hitting concrete 'cos my body decided to peace out on me. I'm sure no one would try and break my fall but everyone would have their cameras out and I'd be on YouTube before my head even touched the ground. At least let me be underweight by then so I look lovely while I'm out! Right? Right?? The camera adds 15, not 10 lbs, for my unlucky self.

The Road to Where I Am Now

 I remember when I first purged consistently because of severe depression - about 5 years ago when I was alone in China and literally had no one around me who could understand what I was going through. I had always had weird eating habit and was generally unhappy but that winter was beyond control - and that's exactly how I got some by restricting and purging. I didn't even know about eating disorders beyond that sad white girls had them and I was obviously too fat and too brown to even have that cross my mind. I was just disgusted with food and tired of being so obviously bigger than everyone else.

I also hated the stares I would get on the street and the comments about my hair and skin. It was like all the behind-closed-doors judging - even racism to an extent - that I had been struggling with in America (subtle things like "I don't like black girls" to "You're OK for a black girl" to "Why's your hair like that?" to "You're not small but it's ok because you're tall") all that shit was just dumped on me out in the open. Shouted across the street on wide-grinning smiles and gap-toothed faces, with nudges and whispers, pointing and stares, crying children and parents that didn't even describe me as a person, just telling the children to look away. I was never warned or even mentally prepared for the excruciating zoo effect in that country and it triggered a downward spiral and self-realization that has changed my outlook on life and the way I see the world forever.

Yes, this was when I started to eat only plain egg-fried rice (really, the Chinese kind that is nothing but day-old white rice, egg, scallions, and a little oil) and drink strawberry milk. I left my apartment once a day, if even, would bring the food back to my room, eat alone and then violently vomit back out alone as well. If I lost weight, I don't know. I didn't have a scale and had limited contact with anyone. This was between semesters and I saw one old classmate several weeks after the 1st semester had ended in passing in the lobby of our hotel. I remember her saying "you lost so much weight!" but I don't remember ever looking or feeling noticeably thinner. I smiled a tight-lipped smile, hugged her petite self and returned  to my room to cry or sleep. Probably both.

But that was a brief period of purging in my life. I came back to the States and started binge eating and felt serious guilt. Always under the recommended caloric amount but damn, I was such a fat pig anyway, did I need that much? I wasn't running marathons or on a sports team, I should be able to eat so much less, right? Why was I even eating at all? I could have a bowl of cereal all day and be good. Why eat any more? I had unknowingly been restricting all my life and now that I wasn't, I was out of whack. With my depression getting worse and being forced to take pills with a list of side-effects longer than the Illiyad, my weight went up. I was still "healthy" but was so disappointed that I was no longer comfortably underweight. Meanwhile, my depression had come to define me and I was losing control of my life...

Now I'm pretty much at rock bottom, I guess. My lifetime nemesis - the Thunder-Thigh Twins - have become unbearable. I can't wear anything without seeing them taunting me and ruining an outfit and protruding everywhere. They've cost me so many jobs that I wanted and ruin my chances at ever being small or light or slender. Each one alone has 5 pounds of fat and that seriously disgusts me. So, I began to purge again. This last week has been exhausting, a cycle of fasting, minimal eating, repetitive purging, and the weakness that follows. I've moved the scale enough to where I wanted to be, but of course it's not enough. I need to keep going because I'm too close to the edge - it can always creep back up and my hard work will be gone in an instant.

But really, the number doesn't matter. My thighs might never even shrink. I can only eat so little and purge so much and neither will undo the hurt and erase the pain. I can try an avoid triggering images and ignorant people and become asexual so the pain of rejection over things I can't control doesn't hurt as much but that leaves me very alone. These feelings are bound to me forever. Try as hard as I can I can't expel them from my mind and I know they've tainted my soul .

Why Must I Eat Once It's Dark Out?

I think it's because I really really can't stand to eat with/around other people so I wait until I'm really alone and just go to town. I also don't like sleeping on an empty stomach, for some reason. I like the feeling of being full and drifting off to sleep. At the same time, I hate the feeling because with me, it's either all or nothing. I won't eat all day or I'll eat way too much.

Take the last 30 hours or so: Ate too much (well, wasn't hungry and ate an unnecessary 400 calories or so of food anyway) and then spent all of Friday drinking water only. Skipped weigh in because I felt disgusting, and knew that the scale would only make me feel worse. Plus, I knew I had an event that I was hired to model at tonight, and I have this fucking lower belly that seems more pronounced these days - am I retaining too much liquid?

Anyway, I just checked to see if I was lighter at all, and low and behold, after pissing the day away (literally) I am down 4 pounds from Thursday. Great, right? Of course not. I have a fucking sub laying about 10 feet away that I want to devour but I know the inevitable regret that will be waiting for me after I finish the last bite.

Why or why can't I just keep my mouth shut and stick to water? How am I going to lose weight and keep it off if I keep eating like a normal person?