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...
Showing posts with label thunder thighs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thunder thighs. Show all posts
Friday, March 8, 2013
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
I Like Having Ultimate Control
I've had so many people use me for their own greed and goals and then toss me like an empty carton to the side and never think twice about me ever again. I can't control them, I can't make them not be an asshole or a bitch or a vapid, slobbering cunt monster only out to make themselves happy. But what I can take charge of is my body. While I'm struggling with it's shape and certain parts - I'm looking at you, Thunder Thighs - overall, it has shrunk in the last 5 weeks. I'm a small on top and bottom, but barely. I don't want to feel like I'm one breath away from bursting out of my clothes, so I push myself just a little harder and walk just a little further to make sure I can go to sleep at night and truthfully said I did everything I could during the day to get a step closer to being dainty.
I met this old dude today at Starbucks - really just a waste of my time. He had crater/pockmarked skin, thinning (teased) hair, was barely my height (I was wearing flip flops for chrissake), and was aggressively in my face with questions. I tried to feign politeness but I was just thinking the whole time, I ended my steam time early for this clown? The only thing worth remembering about the whole sordid affair was that the first thing out of his mouth was: you lost weight! And you look much younger, like you're in high school. Now, at my ripe old age of 24, I don't give two hoots about looking younger. I just want to be treated with some care and respect. I have always had dark circles under my eyes (oh, genetics, how you hate me) so I don't think I ever looked the right age. I think my tired-ass face coupled with my height has always made me appear to be older when I was younger, and now that I'm well into adulthood, hah, and shrinking down to the body or a teenager, I guess I do appear younger.
What it really is my lack of boobs, let's be honest. I've recently stocked up on all those tops that have the built-in bras, so they nicely mask the fact that I have nothing on my chest other than skin and nipples. I've never had cleavage, don't even know what the word means. I'm ok with that, because it allows me to buy smaller tops and never look like a skany whore in low-cut blouses. That's ok, I guess. I wish the fat would start coming from my thighs, but they are just so goddam stubborn! The new underwear I loaded up on is actually too big - once I put a pair on, they start to stretch and bunch and they are hanging on. Gross. I'll have to just suck it up until they start falling off though, because I don't know if I can exchange them. Who does that anyway? Return underwear? Yuck! If I wait until I really lose, maybe I can get down to a size 3.
Anyway, nosy bitches are looking over my shoulder and pretending to be cleaning up or whatever, so I guess I'll end this here. Haven't eaten yet today and really don't feel like it, knowing I'm going to have to yak it all up right after anyway. But I know I will feel even more exhausted come tomorrow morning, and I need above all to keep my spirits up and energy pumping enough to keep the scale moving in my favor. That fasting shit just isn't an option now - it makes you weak, which makes you start craving crazy shit, and the body has a way of over-ruling even the most determined mind. The last thing I need is to eat like a cow and then gain 6 pounds and feel miserable and know I set myself back 1/2 a month because I really wanted some fucking fried rice. Um, no, I'll pass, thanks.
I met this old dude today at Starbucks - really just a waste of my time. He had crater/pockmarked skin, thinning (teased) hair, was barely my height (I was wearing flip flops for chrissake), and was aggressively in my face with questions. I tried to feign politeness but I was just thinking the whole time, I ended my steam time early for this clown? The only thing worth remembering about the whole sordid affair was that the first thing out of his mouth was: you lost weight! And you look much younger, like you're in high school. Now, at my ripe old age of 24, I don't give two hoots about looking younger. I just want to be treated with some care and respect. I have always had dark circles under my eyes (oh, genetics, how you hate me) so I don't think I ever looked the right age. I think my tired-ass face coupled with my height has always made me appear to be older when I was younger, and now that I'm well into adulthood, hah, and shrinking down to the body or a teenager, I guess I do appear younger.
What it really is my lack of boobs, let's be honest. I've recently stocked up on all those tops that have the built-in bras, so they nicely mask the fact that I have nothing on my chest other than skin and nipples. I've never had cleavage, don't even know what the word means. I'm ok with that, because it allows me to buy smaller tops and never look like a skany whore in low-cut blouses. That's ok, I guess. I wish the fat would start coming from my thighs, but they are just so goddam stubborn! The new underwear I loaded up on is actually too big - once I put a pair on, they start to stretch and bunch and they are hanging on. Gross. I'll have to just suck it up until they start falling off though, because I don't know if I can exchange them. Who does that anyway? Return underwear? Yuck! If I wait until I really lose, maybe I can get down to a size 3.
Anyway, nosy bitches are looking over my shoulder and pretending to be cleaning up or whatever, so I guess I'll end this here. Haven't eaten yet today and really don't feel like it, knowing I'm going to have to yak it all up right after anyway. But I know I will feel even more exhausted come tomorrow morning, and I need above all to keep my spirits up and energy pumping enough to keep the scale moving in my favor. That fasting shit just isn't an option now - it makes you weak, which makes you start craving crazy shit, and the body has a way of over-ruling even the most determined mind. The last thing I need is to eat like a cow and then gain 6 pounds and feel miserable and know I set myself back 1/2 a month because I really wanted some fucking fried rice. Um, no, I'll pass, thanks.
Friday, July 1, 2011
July's Here! Skinny or Die (or Both)
June was about re-training my mind to stop looking for food every 2 hours when I was bored or doing something monotonous to pass the time and keep my hands and mouth busy. Wrong, wrong, wrong. What I needed to be doing was getting my ass up and doing jumping jacks or running up and down stairs or something. Anyway, that's in the past because I caved in and wasted money that could be going to some bills on a lousy membership to this lousy sports "club" (read: safe haven for the out of shape and elderly).
I haven't been getting up as early as I'd like to walk my 5 miles before driving the SO off to his office and heading back to sweat out some more (it's been more like wake up too late, feel guilty, stay in bed for an hour longer than I should, then go to the steam room, will myself lighter, weigh in, feel the heavy shame of failure, then put in a couple of defeated hours of poor cardio before I weigh in again and again and again). I absolutely don't care what any of the staff thinks that I'm in there for 4 hours at a time, weighing in on my scale and the gym's scale too. One manager is pregnant (but not really) and ready to explode fat everywhere, and the rest of the staff is lumpy, stumpy, and rounder than a doughnut. The cleaning staff too! (Do they get free memberships?) So if they think I'm neurotic or obsessed, they are right and get a gold star for seeing the obvious.
I haven't made an effort to write on here because after reaching my GW of 130, I foolishly ate like it was going out of style and apparently was lazy with my purge. I gained 2 pounds back (this is after throwing up enough to still feed a family of 4) and was so dejected. Instead of not eating anything the next day, what did I do? Binge and repeat, of course! I was hovering around 132 and going bonkers. I had to gain control of the situation and last night ate very little, but made sure to purge, purge, purge. Took another 5 fiber pills (apparently 1 dose does jack) and finally shat out the saddest little shit ever (TMI, sorry). Whatever, I woke up to 131.8 today and after wasting the afternoon in the gym, the scale did its usual cunty shit and bounced betweene 129.8 and 130.0 so I'll just go with 129 to make myself feel better. Yes I'm a cheater.
I'm also a big fat loser because I'm heading *back* to the gym to play basketball with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. I'm not going to be all lazy tonight either - I'm kicking ass and taking names and I will sit in that goddam steam room for another 30 minutes even if I want to scream and cry and drink up the entire Pacific Ocean. I can't keep setting myself up for failure - if I'm not fainting, I'm not in trouble and I can push a little harder. Because of my freaking Invisalign, I don't think I'll be able to do the lemonade cleanse until the end of the year, but that's ok, by then I'll be so skinny (wishful thinking) that I'll need drastic measures to keep from eating. I'm strong enough to keep eating and puking, so by golly I'll keep going until I choke. Just gotta limit it to once a day and no breads/rice/noodles/carbs/greasy shit because that stuff is such a bitch coming back up!
Oh, one other annoying thing: I don't even begin to fill out my 34B anymore...and it was already a stretch back when I was chubby. I wanted to go shopping today for probably a 32A, but first thing's first! Gotta round out my nights with some bball to get a full body workout and kick my ass in gear. I can always make myself cry with my flat chest tomorrow, what's the rush, right? Sadly, my thighs are still like 2 large loaves of bread. Refusing to give up any of the fat they are so desperately clinging to. That's fine, though. I will break them down in the end, they can't stay jiggly forever!
I haven't been getting up as early as I'd like to walk my 5 miles before driving the SO off to his office and heading back to sweat out some more (it's been more like wake up too late, feel guilty, stay in bed for an hour longer than I should, then go to the steam room, will myself lighter, weigh in, feel the heavy shame of failure, then put in a couple of defeated hours of poor cardio before I weigh in again and again and again). I absolutely don't care what any of the staff thinks that I'm in there for 4 hours at a time, weighing in on my scale and the gym's scale too. One manager is pregnant (but not really) and ready to explode fat everywhere, and the rest of the staff is lumpy, stumpy, and rounder than a doughnut. The cleaning staff too! (Do they get free memberships?) So if they think I'm neurotic or obsessed, they are right and get a gold star for seeing the obvious.
I haven't made an effort to write on here because after reaching my GW of 130, I foolishly ate like it was going out of style and apparently was lazy with my purge. I gained 2 pounds back (this is after throwing up enough to still feed a family of 4) and was so dejected. Instead of not eating anything the next day, what did I do? Binge and repeat, of course! I was hovering around 132 and going bonkers. I had to gain control of the situation and last night ate very little, but made sure to purge, purge, purge. Took another 5 fiber pills (apparently 1 dose does jack) and finally shat out the saddest little shit ever (TMI, sorry). Whatever, I woke up to 131.8 today and after wasting the afternoon in the gym, the scale did its usual cunty shit and bounced betweene 129.8 and 130.0 so I'll just go with 129 to make myself feel better. Yes I'm a cheater.
I'm also a big fat loser because I'm heading *back* to the gym to play basketball with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. I'm not going to be all lazy tonight either - I'm kicking ass and taking names and I will sit in that goddam steam room for another 30 minutes even if I want to scream and cry and drink up the entire Pacific Ocean. I can't keep setting myself up for failure - if I'm not fainting, I'm not in trouble and I can push a little harder. Because of my freaking Invisalign, I don't think I'll be able to do the lemonade cleanse until the end of the year, but that's ok, by then I'll be so skinny (wishful thinking) that I'll need drastic measures to keep from eating. I'm strong enough to keep eating and puking, so by golly I'll keep going until I choke. Just gotta limit it to once a day and no breads/rice/noodles/carbs/greasy shit because that stuff is such a bitch coming back up!
Oh, one other annoying thing: I don't even begin to fill out my 34B anymore...and it was already a stretch back when I was chubby. I wanted to go shopping today for probably a 32A, but first thing's first! Gotta round out my nights with some bball to get a full body workout and kick my ass in gear. I can always make myself cry with my flat chest tomorrow, what's the rush, right? Sadly, my thighs are still like 2 large loaves of bread. Refusing to give up any of the fat they are so desperately clinging to. That's fine, though. I will break them down in the end, they can't stay jiggly forever!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Feeling Worn Out & Doubtful
It's late, but I wanted to update a little something.
My nose has been bleeding a lot in the last day or two. I think it's unrelated to all the purging - I've had bad nosebleeds since I was really young. Usually because of extreme heat, cold, dry air, pollen and my allergies acting up, or general stress. Well, it's been unusually hot all of a sudden with the air reeking of whatever has been shedding from the trees. I'm sure I'll get over it. I haven't stopped purging and don't plan on stopping until I'm out of the 130s, thank-you-very-much.
Anyway, I don't trust the scale anymore and I'll just chalk that up to another one of my flaws/paranoias/ridiculous shortcomings. Fucking thing loves to dance through every number possible before arbitrarily settling on whatever it feels like for the day, and rarely is it the number I want. I haven't done crunches in 2 days and my flabby, fatty fat lower abdomen isn't hiding the fact for me at all. It's so gross - the way it just sits there. Solid fat. Sticking out and ruining my shape.
If I kind of make my legs tight (flex a little) I have a thigh gap when my feet are together, but I feel like that's cheating. Plus, the meat on my thighs still hangs there like some treat for a pack of hungry wolves, so what does it matter? I'm going to have to start doing something to tone them, but god, I know they will just balloon up and negate all of my hard work. My jeans still aren't baggy or loose and I'm really bummed about that. I was hoping to get some new (smaller) clothes, but I might as well just tattoo a fucking "L" on my ass and be done with it.
When will I ever ever ever get to feel whispy and waifish? Seems like just a wild, sad dream. I'll probably die before I ever get to know the feeling.
My nose has been bleeding a lot in the last day or two. I think it's unrelated to all the purging - I've had bad nosebleeds since I was really young. Usually because of extreme heat, cold, dry air, pollen and my allergies acting up, or general stress. Well, it's been unusually hot all of a sudden with the air reeking of whatever has been shedding from the trees. I'm sure I'll get over it. I haven't stopped purging and don't plan on stopping until I'm out of the 130s, thank-you-very-much.
Anyway, I don't trust the scale anymore and I'll just chalk that up to another one of my flaws/paranoias/ridiculous shortcomings. Fucking thing loves to dance through every number possible before arbitrarily settling on whatever it feels like for the day, and rarely is it the number I want. I haven't done crunches in 2 days and my flabby, fatty fat lower abdomen isn't hiding the fact for me at all. It's so gross - the way it just sits there. Solid fat. Sticking out and ruining my shape.
If I kind of make my legs tight (flex a little) I have a thigh gap when my feet are together, but I feel like that's cheating. Plus, the meat on my thighs still hangs there like some treat for a pack of hungry wolves, so what does it matter? I'm going to have to start doing something to tone them, but god, I know they will just balloon up and negate all of my hard work. My jeans still aren't baggy or loose and I'm really bummed about that. I was hoping to get some new (smaller) clothes, but I might as well just tattoo a fucking "L" on my ass and be done with it.
When will I ever ever ever get to feel whispy and waifish? Seems like just a wild, sad dream. I'll probably die before I ever get to know the feeling.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Feel Like I Still Look the Same
I know I'm down to 136.6 since the beginning of the month, but I feel like you really can't tell. Actually, I *know* you really can't tell. I'm still as wide as I was before, still have a pooch at my lower abdomen, still don't feel like my shirts fit any looser or that my pants look any different. Where is this supposed weight coming from/going? How much do I need to lose until I finally feel like I'm really...feminine? Like, I could actually be swept off my feet and not how I am now? Too large and heavy and ungainly for anyone but the World's Strongest Man to attempt to pick up?
While digging through my computer, I happened upon some pictures of myself in a bikini from last year was it? I was so disgusting. I barely recognize myself - my face just looked like a puffed up mess. And the thighs! Oh those goddamm thighs from hell. They seriously look like hamhocks. How the fuck did I stand myself? I feel embarrassed even seeing these pictures months later, say nothing of when they were current and I was that much heavier. Looking at my fat little self and remembering how much bigger I've always felt throughout life is totally motivation to not slip up, to not miss a moment to purge or to walk just a little bit more and try a little bit harder to shed these pounds.
I can't ever let myself get fat again and go back to how I was. I must must must not let myself down and keep this up. It's getting easier as time goes by. I binge less often and can only eat so much until I seriously feel full enough to vomit without any help. I mean, of course I have to wiggle my finger a little bit but it comes out so easily and forcefully I can't help but feel relieved and, well *good* that I got that shit out. Best of all, my stomach is still expanded and feels full, even though there's nothing really in there.
Anyway, last night, I went out to two clubs in an attempt to finally dance off some more calories and keep myself on track. The first one was jam-packed full of short, obese women. It was weird. I stood out because I am tall and obviously under 200 pounds (no exaggeration) but I felt weird. None of them were dancing anyway, so I went to another club. I fucking hate that other one - better music, but *full* of tiny, little, Asian-looking women. Wearing tube tops for dresses and heels to make their legs look longer and leaner, and they still don't even come up to my shoulders. Flipping their fucking hair and shaking their no asses and lapping up all the attention. Loud and boisterous and falling all over the place, bursting with the knowledge that they are envied and desired and loving every minute.
Meanwhile, I'm as tall as all the other midget men in this town, ignored and feeling out of place. Approached only by the crazy, cock-eyed bathroom attendant who would probably have tried to dance with the potted plant if it was on wheels. Of course I wanted to binge when I got back to the room (bought some funky, flat "cracker" things that are really just over-priced pressed styrofoam for the weight-conscious. 19 equal 1 serving for only 130 calories - how is that possible? What the heck?) but wouldn't you know it? The Laughing Cow cheese wedge I bought had something stuck in it. If that wasn't a sign from the universe telling me to roll my fat ass over and go to sleep, I don't know what would be. So that's exactly what I did - empty stomach, empty heart, full of self-loathing.
At least I woke up early enough to drag myself to walk and appease the Almighty Scale. I just have to stay strong!
While digging through my computer, I happened upon some pictures of myself in a bikini from last year was it? I was so disgusting. I barely recognize myself - my face just looked like a puffed up mess. And the thighs! Oh those goddamm thighs from hell. They seriously look like hamhocks. How the fuck did I stand myself? I feel embarrassed even seeing these pictures months later, say nothing of when they were current and I was that much heavier. Looking at my fat little self and remembering how much bigger I've always felt throughout life is totally motivation to not slip up, to not miss a moment to purge or to walk just a little bit more and try a little bit harder to shed these pounds.
I can't ever let myself get fat again and go back to how I was. I must must must not let myself down and keep this up. It's getting easier as time goes by. I binge less often and can only eat so much until I seriously feel full enough to vomit without any help. I mean, of course I have to wiggle my finger a little bit but it comes out so easily and forcefully I can't help but feel relieved and, well *good* that I got that shit out. Best of all, my stomach is still expanded and feels full, even though there's nothing really in there.
Anyway, last night, I went out to two clubs in an attempt to finally dance off some more calories and keep myself on track. The first one was jam-packed full of short, obese women. It was weird. I stood out because I am tall and obviously under 200 pounds (no exaggeration) but I felt weird. None of them were dancing anyway, so I went to another club. I fucking hate that other one - better music, but *full* of tiny, little, Asian-looking women. Wearing tube tops for dresses and heels to make their legs look longer and leaner, and they still don't even come up to my shoulders. Flipping their fucking hair and shaking their no asses and lapping up all the attention. Loud and boisterous and falling all over the place, bursting with the knowledge that they are envied and desired and loving every minute.
Meanwhile, I'm as tall as all the other midget men in this town, ignored and feeling out of place. Approached only by the crazy, cock-eyed bathroom attendant who would probably have tried to dance with the potted plant if it was on wheels. Of course I wanted to binge when I got back to the room (bought some funky, flat "cracker" things that are really just over-priced pressed styrofoam for the weight-conscious. 19 equal 1 serving for only 130 calories - how is that possible? What the heck?) but wouldn't you know it? The Laughing Cow cheese wedge I bought had something stuck in it. If that wasn't a sign from the universe telling me to roll my fat ass over and go to sleep, I don't know what would be. So that's exactly what I did - empty stomach, empty heart, full of self-loathing.
At least I woke up early enough to drag myself to walk and appease the Almighty Scale. I just have to stay strong!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
1XX Pounds of Self-Loathing
I'm tired of not liking what I see in the mirror.
My mind has an image of what I look like - bigger hair, thinner thighs, flatter stomach, brighter smile - but then I see my reflection and am honestly confused. Who is that huge monster looking back at me? Is this how others really see me?
The main thing that's bugged me is my proportions: my top does not match my bottom at all. Actually, the problem is really just the top of my thighs. They are too big for the rest of me.
I know some people would be content with my shape, but I am not. I can never get pants that fit properly...the waist will be too big if I want my legs to not look like sausage casings, or I'll feel like my thighs are about to explode if I want my pants to not fall down.
Anyway, I'm going to change this. I want to decrease the number on the scale as much as possible. Let me have some control in this stupid little world. I can do anything I put my mind to right?
My mind has an image of what I look like - bigger hair, thinner thighs, flatter stomach, brighter smile - but then I see my reflection and am honestly confused. Who is that huge monster looking back at me? Is this how others really see me?
The main thing that's bugged me is my proportions: my top does not match my bottom at all. Actually, the problem is really just the top of my thighs. They are too big for the rest of me.
I know some people would be content with my shape, but I am not. I can never get pants that fit properly...the waist will be too big if I want my legs to not look like sausage casings, or I'll feel like my thighs are about to explode if I want my pants to not fall down.
Anyway, I'm going to change this. I want to decrease the number on the scale as much as possible. Let me have some control in this stupid little world. I can do anything I put my mind to right?
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