Do Not Feed The Animals

Just got an award from my sista from another motha Cinnamon.

Thanks sugar, I really am undeserving of this, but I accept it as a token of your sweetness.

Am I supposed to give it to other ten people or what? I suck at things.

So, I am at work now, after a weekend in my hometown with parents and stuff.

 I am not going to talk about the massive eating involved, a phenomenon that seems to occur specifically in that geographical region.

Update on funny things: Mich, that security word made me crack up and roll on the floor laughing (yes, I am not going to use the acronym)! Possibly that’s a sign.

Boss and I had drinks Friday after work too. Funny, didn’t try to kiss me or anything awkward at all, nice time. In the end he told me, since he is on holiday starting this week, to text him sometime here and there if I feel like. And then he asked me what are my plans for the weekend when he comes back (19^th Aug) and suggested we could spend the aforementioned couple days together. 

Mh. ‘Kay.

Dunno. I was kinda taken aback, but I think in the end I will probably go. The odds of me having sex with him have changed now they lead 3 to 2 against me being a serious and wise employee and not opening anything to anyone.

As announced  I am on meds again. Finally told my mom and she went to my old doc to get me some Lexotan in pills. Popped one yesterday at 8 pm and slept all the way thru 2 am, then I started to wake up every  hour to check what time it was and get back to sleep again.

I left the dog at my mom’s back at home, so right now I am kinda free, and also lonely.

I figured I will have to give him away since my tenants have complained twice last week  about the barking and stuff, and it’s becoming a burden I can’t face by myself. I love him very much and he is the baby god doesn’t want me to have, but I cannot bear this situation nor should he be forced to. I feel lousy. So for the moment, just to take some time, my mom is making an extra effort and taking care of him.

Last post pretty much told everything. I stood there on my bed listening to Exit Music For A Film by Radiohead for almost 90 minutes  seriously thinking I was gonna kill myself. It was just too much. I was at that point where you realize that this is it and you just feel sorry for having made your mind up.

I can’t stop thinking about him, whether it’s hatred or just disbelief, or even anger at myself or flat old disappointment. Lately the most persistent feeling is hatred. I hate him so much for going on with his life without t a problem, for having fun and such. I snooped thru some facebook pages and found a picture of him, dated last week, where he is at this climbing thing in Austria. I posted it on my page, if you are curious. I just wanted to puke with anger. He is there smiling and totally careless, while that same night (I am convinced so) I gave myself a scar all along my wrist just below his name as the next best thing after suicide.

It just isn’t fair, that’s all.

This week will be boring as fuck. Great. Luckily I have my sleeping thingies. I can sleep my pain misery and loneliness off.

In other news: I am still a fatso.

XXX

Exit Music For A Film

When is it that you have to choose between life and death. You can do it everyday when you wake up.
Or you could do it now.
I could choose now.
Don't know what I want. Don't know if down this path there's anything else for me. I might just be over with. Whatever it is that lies beneath might be welcome when you feel you're over and out.
I can't do this.
I know I will be desperately sorry when I choose.

When and if the day comes I will be sorry.
Sorry for everything. For them. For me. For the end. For the future.
So very desperately sorry.

I Am Not Material for a Sexual Harassment Lawsuit. At Least Not at Work.

So, this morning I was 111.

Which is a relief. Imagine that: 111 a relief. That only goes to show how fuckin much I have managed to gain over the last month or so, since the other day (Sun) I did the very idiotic thing of stepping onto my scale after a two days binge fest- I was 115.7.

Ok, unfollow me now. I wanted to kill myself, but the thought of leaving such an ugly and fat corpse made me regain my senses and start restricting aka stop eating like Godzilla.

So, right now I am  at work and there’s not much to do around here for a change, so I am posting instead. It feel s better than helping people scan stuff or serving coffee or translating my ass off.

I actually had another date with my boss. We went for drinks after work on Monday. So now he has my phone number. I can’t quite understand the situation. Nothing happened, if you’re wondering, and he certainly would like to do me, but I have mixed feelings. Let me be analytical about this.

1.       I don’t like older men, usually. He’s 13 years my senior. I like young(er) guys, I am into that early twenty freshness. But this is the first time that I think I might actually have sex with someone that older. Weird. I mean, he doesn’t look like Jason Staham or something, but he has that kind of attitude that intrigues me. Oh, he is Cancer like the bastard Sergio. Go figure.

2.       That being said, I don’t know if I wanna actually do something with him. Like being touched and stuff. I am getting really weird about being touched. Like ew don’t touch me. I instinctively move away, like I don’t even think about it, I just do. It used to be a little better, but it’s gotten worse over time. Mh. I am kinda afraid it will  get even  worse than this. So, I am not sure that I really want to and thus I am not sure about what signals I should give. I don’t certainly wanna be an easy lay. I am not going to be the young easy to fuck  secretary. I might become, but not THAT easy.

3.       After I have solved the matter of point 2. I will have to figure out how this plays out at work. I don’t want things to get weird or anything. But I know I can fake anything. So even if things turn out in an unexpected way, I know I can pretend and look like everything’s perfectly normal.

4.       I kinda feel like a whore, but whatever.

5.       What if it is a lousy fuck and it gets weird in that sense??? Oh gosh. That just came up to me. The Bastard (that is his new name from now on) was every terrible and horrible thing a man can manage to be, but he was also the best fuck ever. I am sorry for the choice of words, but he was. Like oh my god good. And had an amazing body and beautiful soft skin. Ok, I just made myself miss him and horny at the same time. Great. So, that is to say that on this topic I am quite spoiled. And I think through things way too much. For instance, what if I feel grossed out? Gosh. Ok, I am having a panic attack. Breathe.

6.       Since supposedly we are going for drinks again tonite after work I might have to figure all this out before 6 pm.

In other news I managed to give myself some pretty conspicuous scars on my forearm. Great. I am a genius. They are little, but they have a pattern. I made five of them one perfectly above the other. So it’s pretty much clear that they are not casual.

I am sleeping like shit recently. Like the last two three days. I might need something to calm me down and rest a little. I have some drops (I hate them, I am an old fashioned pill popper for Christ sake!) of something my mom used against migraines, but it actually is an anti-anxiety med. It works, but since I am not used anymore I get completely stoned and slowed down afterwards. So I am afraid that if I will use it to sleep the morning after I may look like I just smoked my breakfast from a crackpipe.

What I would really like to try is Adderall, but here that kind of drug is hard to find. There would have to be some doctor’s prescription and it is unbearably hard to get, not to mention the fact that my mom would at some point notice.

I gotta go to the toilet now and pretend to work.

Finally, thank you ladies for the comments  (Cinnamon, Evelyn and Mich- gonna do that tattoo artist thing-) and thanks to Cordelia for signing in with me. I am two followers away from 20! Yay! Someone likes me!!

Also, I have made (wink wink to Cinnamon) a fake FB account, here’s  the link. You’re kindly requested to friend me. J

XoXo

Twenty Days to Gain them Back

...and I am fatter again.
And finally single. And a working person. And a fucked up mess cutting again. With shorter haircut.
Haven't been blogging for so many different reasons, mostly because I am fucking depressed again, as I now notice from my own last post.
A childhood friend of mine died last week. He was 27. 16 days younger than me. A car crash. His girlfriend is 8 months pregnant. His mom is my mom's bestie.
A fucked up story. It happened the last day I heard from my dear ex boyfriend. I wanted to die too. But then my mom tells me he actually died. And for some time I had a different feeling about suicide.
Like, really? I don't know. I have always been a major advocate for suicide: if you feel like it then it's right. But then. I don't know.
And then yesterday dies Amy Winehouse. Ok, not a fan. But I started having this feeling that this year might be my last too. She was born an exact month before me, my friend died a week before her and I am now 27.


I am scaring myself because this might be the proof that I am going crazy.
This is what you call a delirious thought.

So I figured the best thing was cutting again. So I did quite in plain view, right above the tattoo that spells the former love of my life's name. Gotta decide what to do with that as well.
I really feel like not erasing it. I want it. I want it to still be somehow visible or there, only in another context. I dunno, might have some kind of flower or something like that tattooed around it. You gals have any idea?
I have to wait until summer's over, cos it's pretty dumb to have tattoos made during beach and sun time, so I have some time to figure it out.
Ok, decided this second to post a pic of it. There we go.

Notice the HelloKitty stickers that cover my entire laptop. I am a grown woman for christ sake!
Anyhow. That is his name. I hope he dies in a sea of sorrow and loneliness as he deserves.

And I have been eating like there's no tomorrow. I pretty much gained back like 8 lbs.
I have no retain as I am so fuckin depressed and have the lowest self esteem ever.
If I think about dating again or showing my body to someone else I may faint. I feel more and more disgusting and increasingly fat. Still no period. Since it's not weight related my only supposition is that god doesn't actually want me to raise one of his children. I really don't get his point, after all I am an adjusted happy and positive bitch, ain't I?

Work is ok. Ok, Gotta admit in this private and protected place that I might have a girl crush on my boss which is 41. You do the math.
He took me to lunch in the same place where this happened. Must say I was kinda panicking but then forgot about it and had a good time.

As of lately I would like to be on meds again. That tells it all.
I am waiting for the darkness to walk poor little Fidel. I cannot bear to show myself in daylight.


Love to you all, darlings.
I will try and be a better blogger person.

And a thank you goes to my two (two!) latest followers: Tiny Bones and Evelyn. Girls, you just made my Sunday :-)

XXX

07.08

Never trust.

Never trust someone else. never trust yourself. never trust your istinct or your heart. 

never trust your words. never trust a relationship. never trust a promise, never trust a thought.

never trust me. never trust him. never trust the ability to hurt. never trust the desperation and the sorrow. 

never trust them or their voices.

never trust a moment, never trust a stream of happiness. never trust the will to believe. never trust your faith. 

just never trust.

never believe that you will be able to stop yourself from being human. 

never for  a moment think that you will have the skills to be smarter. 

never trust me.

never trust yourself and your pale faible soul. never believe that their words are for you.

never.

never believe in the arms of another being. 

never believe in the arms of your emptiness.

never believe in the trust someone may give you. you are not worth it.

just. don't trust anything.

don't trust this.

don't trust the hurt and the bad. 

don't trust my sorrow, it will lead you nowhere.

don't trust your hopelessness.

just don't.

The weight of hopelessness

Fourth day of work.
I am already ready to throw in the towel. On something. On trying to stop being a fatass, on the dog, on the having a house by myself or on the job itself.
Last couple of days have been hideous. And as usual I am up like crazy. Like 112. 
I ate like a pig on saturday though Monday. Yesterday I ate nothing all day long then went to the Brazilian restaurant and stuffed my face.
I am bloated and grumpy. 
And still my period is missing. Of course it is not because of the weight. It may be because of my crazed hormones. So, I am still not willing to get checked it out because they could actually make me go on some kind of birth control or hormone pill. That would mean retained water and shitload of cellulite=gain again. 
So, no deal.
Plus, I am sadly not trying to have a baby now, so it is perfectly useless.
Today has been bad too. 
Behaved at the office, then bought some things at a supermarket that sells all this biological stuff near my office (I think I have already mentioned it) and ended up buying some drinkable chai yogurt (that I had for lunch), some mini cinnamon rice cakes (that I finished right this second) soy yogurt (my dinner:57 cals) and some other stuff. 
This is what I ate today.
Too much for someone that ate like a con before the injection.

Sometimes all this crap, these calories, the keeping a journal and a close controlling eye on what I consume feels way too much. It feels stupid. Boring. And something to be glad it's not there.
But then, after some time of not thinking about it and ignoring it (but actually not behaving normally though) the need to have it back creeps in.
I can't explain it myself. I don't know. I just have to have it back. To live a diseased food relationship the way it gives me more hope of happiness: thinking that probably I will be able to starve myself long enough to reach the weight and shape that I want.
Because that's what it is. Hope.
That things will change. By restricting or starving. Giving up hope is bingeing. And that is why I can't take it for long.
Hope is the only thing that gets me going.


Love darlings,
Not so cheerful or energetic tonite.

<3

Desperate Housewives Go To Work

I just noticed I forgot an 's in the last post's title.
Jeeerk.

So, tomorrow I am starting the new job. I have so many issues.
First: I am supposed to dress somehow formal. Like being the person that welcomes people in, I need not to be shabby or looking like I escaped from Woodstock, which is actually the look I try to go for as of recently.
That is why I also need to lose these freaking pounds: I wanna pull off the "casual rock n roll chick circa 1970" look. Like I like her. A lot.

I know. I am a moderate loser for watching 90210. But I got addicted to it and now I can't stop. They're all so beautiful and thin it enrages me and mesmerizes me at the same time.
So, where was I?
Yes, I don't know how to dress myself. Like I literally have no clothing options. I have lots of fancy high heeled shoes, but nothing semi formal to put them under.
I'll figure it out tomorrow.

Second: I am gonna be working from 9 to 5.30 with half an hour of lunch break. Yay slavery!
But that is not the point, I welcome every activity that can keep me from eating.
The problem is my beloved, always present dog. He is gonna be staying in my studio for these eight hours.Luckily I managed to talk the future boss into giving me an extra 15 minutes break so that I can run home and feed him and possibly walk him.
But I am very worried about how things are gonna go.
Quite frankly, if this arrangement doesn't work out, I'll have to give him away. I cannot make him suffer.
So, for now, I'll try the best that I can: I'll wake up at 7, walk him for like an hour, get ready and go to work, then come back at lunch feed him, go back to work, come back around 6 and walk him again for another hour. Then have dinner (?) and briefly walk him again.

Third: I am quite curious about my eating schedule. I mean. I will not be able to have lunch, quite evidently. And I will not be snacking, actually I usually don't, but just in case. I am afraid that at dinner I will turn into a devouring monster. Like have dinner. Normally.
I figured I could bring to work some home made chai tea latte and sip it through the morning. Or a diet coke. But I have to but a proper thing to keep it into. And since I have something like 50€ to my name I cannot waste them in such a thing. I will have to wait monday. AKA payday.
So, these two days I will start figuring things out.
And I will try to get a morning run in order to tire the dog out and burn these fat logs I call thighs and muffin top.
I am curious.
And kinda scared.

Still fuzzy about the look tomorrow.

Today, food-wise, hasn't been so bad.
Didn't really count. Just a rough estimate.
<500. Pretty sure even 400.
But right now I am too tired to begin recapping my whole eating day into my head.

Off to bed now.
Wish me luck, lovely ladies.
Will keep you posted. In my usual sloppy way.
(note to self: improve posting)


Hugs and Love from Muffin Top (my secret agent code name)
<3

It raining crap, alleluia!

Hello lovelies. Can I bask in your appreciative words? 
I adore you trusty few followers of mine! Mich, Peanut: you gave me strength. Love you.

So, another lovely day has passed. Oh so lovely.
And entirely covered in Shite.
Seriously. It's so funny in all its traumatic stupidity that I don't even know how to label it right now.
Either under most stupid accidents of all time or the idiot fight (might as well be upgraded to breakup) of 2011.
I guess it's in-between.

Remember yesterday's post? The I am in mountainland la la la I am going to binge post?
Ok. So I binged at dinner. But that's not even the worst part. We had a lovely dinner, ate amazingly well and chatted about our love. How he loves me and such.

After that, we went back home.
I drove S's car. He was sleeping because as a marathon cycling champion was devastated, so I did the driving. I got into his garage where my car was parked. In order to put his in I had to move mine. So, instead of waiting, the inpatient sucker jumps off the car and goes inside.

At this point I grab the dog, shove it in my car that I had moved and close the door to put his car in. While I do this, the little son of a whore steps, while trying to jump outside, on the locking button.
The dog is now locked inside my running car with my purse. I have no cell phone, no home keys, no money. And the dog is locked inside my car.

(note: I had had a bottle of wine, a whole one with dinner. I was tipsy. But it is not a crucial factor. It's just for you to imagine the scene with all the elements)

So, I start panicking.
Of course. I start screaming at the dog, trying to make him step again on the lock, try to open the door with my whole body and such amenities.
Then I go up to S apartment in order to get the spare keys of my place I gave him, go home with his car, get the second pair of car keys I have at home, come back and save the dog. And the car.

I find him under the shower. I start panicking with him about the situation and he starts mocking me. Then splashing water on me when I tell him that I am livid (quite fuzzy memory but pretty sure it happened like that). So I start getting mad. 
He then tells me that he doesn't have them (false:had gotten into my apartment a couple of months ago with them). Then he makes the vain attempt of looking into a drawer and tells me he doesn't know where they are. I start getting madder, like how the f*** do you store my home keys, idiot, and he tells me I'm a psycho, I am crazy and such.
At this moment, I scream that I don't want his lousy help, tell him to eff off, slam his door and go back to the dog.

I try for half an hour to shock my brain into sobriety, open the car with the utensils I found lying around in his garage, but no luck.
By now I am totally into breakdown mode, like almost pulling my hair out and punching the car.
At one am I decide to break into my own car. I break the window.

Glass everywhere. The dog has peed on the seat for the scare. And pooped on the floor for some other reason.
Of course I am madder than before. I start picking up pieces of glass as big as confetti for fifteen minutes. 
Then I finally stuck his goddamn car into his garage (actually also managed to scrape it a little against the wall, but in the haziness it seemed almost invisible) and take off.
I call him like ten times, he doesn't answer. I get home. The dog manages to escape the leash and flees into the yard of the building. I am in horrid condition. I have my make up messed up, my hair is a sweaty knot and a crazed stare.
I manage to find the only neighbor that is walking the dog at that hour. 
He looks me weird and lazily helps me catching the dog.
I finally enter my apartment at 1.30 am.
At 1.40 while finally in bed I text him telling something like:
Thanks for the mess you made nothing to avoid from happening. Go on and behave like this. Your keys are in the car. Bye. Take care.

No answer.
And today, no sign from him. He doesn't call. Doesn't text. Nothing. I could've cut my arm while smashing the window and I would've died alone.
And today he plays it rough???
You know what?  
Fuck off. There. I said it.
Screw you. 

And in all that I was wearing flip flops. 

So now I am in my hometown (ate again as a cow) waiting for tomorrow to have the new car. 
The sadness is starting to creep in.
This is all so sad.
This is a funny way to lose a relationship.
Just as funny as the way we met.

All in all today was a shitty 24 hours. Now I am in bed. My stomach is full and round. It hurts. Not a crazy binge, more like a good dinner. But feel disguising nonetheless.
And no laxies. Fuck.

Ladies, enjoy your life while you can, because at one point it starts raining shit.


LoveLoveLove
<3<3<3

The Sunday Post

Firstly, thanks to my fifteenth follower Shauna Nicholson! Yay! Hope you'll appreciate my sporadic posts! 

Long time no post.
I have been commenting but not posting=lazyass.

This next segment will be called "this is why you shouldn't trust people".
It is a cautionary tale of disrespect and idiocy, so ladies and gents beware and remember my words!

Tuesday night I went out to dinner with S. He finally took me to a place near my house that is one of the best Chinese restaurants in my town. Fancy and stuff. Not like all the Chinese in the world: greasy and crowded. Super cool. Well distanced tables and perfectly fried food. 
So, we went.

As usual I started worrying about it around 7pm Monday. Like: what am I eating? Am I eating? Oh god I don't wanna binge. Please control yourself. But I have been wanting to go for so long! You're already fat (official current weight 111)(.........), what can one night do?
And so forth.
So when I got into the restaurant, sat down and open the menu my mind was already set into panic mode.
I was on the very thin line: binge or starve that Mich described (http://s1ckb1tch.blogspot.com/2011/06/do-not-take-me-for-some-conjurer-of.html)(sorry for the crummy link but I am currently using the phone to post and dunno how to proper link stuff).

I said I would have a seaweed salad (I love seaweed salad. Like regular person love).
He said "why bother, you're fat. Get whatever you want".
Ugh.
Then I thought I could open up and try to reach him through my discomfort. I talked about my Ed (ok, not officially diagnosed, but pretty sure it's there), the obsession and how I miss the normal eating life.

Around the end of dinner, he states:
"I don't get it. How come you're so fat if you say you have this thing? If you're controlling and counting how come you binge sometimes? Why are you overweight? [I am disordered ok, but I can still see that for the rest of humanity 5'5 and 111 (!) is not considered fat or particularly overweight].
Maybe you should just try harder. The girls I have known that had an Ed had a pretty rockin body. I mean, I can stand their whining and controlling, but yours is not justified".

Yes. He said that.
I was petrified.
I have had during my entire life the fear of sharing my psychological issues, fearing people couldn't understand. I laugh it off when someone asks me about my scars and never mention my depression or else. 
And he, my boyfriend, tells me I should get worse. That if he can't see it it's not there. Tells me to dig deeper. 
It's already what I am trying to do,  fucker. But I know it's not the right thing to do. I would never want my mom to know, since she thinks I am finally fine. I could never give her some more pain.
And he, my boyfriend, tells me to go on and starve more.

So we got into a fight, of course.

[the following day he stated that he was joking. Mh. Yeah. F**k off anyways]

This may teach you that some people are rude undeserving arseholes that would make Freud's happiness. Some people are masochistic suckers that like to hurt to feel powerful and untouchable.
This may teach you to choose wisely before being thrown back in the arms of your disease more messed up than before by some loser that has no human decency.
Think twice. But DO share.

Anyhow.
Today I have a seven hour patch to cover in some mountain venue. I am alone, with the car and the dog.
And I am on bingeing mode already.
That's what I do when I am bored and on the road. I EAT.
So far (11 am) had a croissant (best ever!) and small (1.5x1.5 inch) piece of cake. Don't know how's it called but it's pretty basic: no cream, chocolate and filling. Just the cake.
And now the bakery I bought them in is obsessing me. I am incessantly thinking about going there again and eat the last hours off.

THAT IS WHY I DESERVE TO BE FAT.

I have just realized I am a weekend blogger. 
Aka Lady Lazy Ass.


Lotta Love Ladies
<3

Can't even think of a decent title.

Peanut, thanks for signing in! Most appreciated. Hope you enjoy my ramblings.

So, still at home. Hometown. Still ate.
This is my only outlet for my persisting anxiety. I do not have any laxatives, I searched the cabinet like a cop on a drug bust, but nothing. I feel my stomach so disgustingly full and protruding I would drink poison to get rid of it.
Today I had, so far:
70 cal non fat yogurt
packet of crackers 110
an egg white 30
some crisps 50
a little bread 50
two slices of toast 65
300ish sooo much.

I have no excuse. I feel the anxiety grow.
Sorry if my post is gonna be short and crazy (-er than usual) but I need to vent.
We will go on a walk now. Hopefully I'll burn something.

Although what is driving me crazy is the fullness I feel. And I am a little tipsy from the glass of wine I had.

I HATE that I cannot make myself throw up.

Will update later.

Hugs <3

Update 12 hours later
Or less. I dunno.
I am back home. And feel safer.
Of course I ate dinner tonite, a regular one. Salad, some soft cheese a couple slices of toast bread and some ice cream thingies.
All in all, it sucked.
So as soon as I set foot into my own apartment, as promised, I took some laxies.
Hopefully they will work. Right now I don't care much about my possible diseased colon, the only thing that is going thru my brain is that I weighed myself (clothes and all) and I was 115. One fifteen.
I wanna DIE.
How the fuck is it even possible?? I don't even wanna do the math from the last weigh in or from my lowest. It's just ridiculous. I am a joke and deserve to be fat and self conscious.

God oh god. I realized on the drive home that I will avoid as much as possible going out to dinner (or lunch).
It has always kinda made my day, but the creeping anxiety reached an historically high level and I realized that knowing exactly the caloric value of every piece of useless food I decide to shove down my throat is essential. Pre packaged stuff it is. Mini sized portions. Yes.

One one five.
1 1 5.
One fifteen. ONE FIFTEEN.

Reset.

Finally, Starving Artist, thanks for signing in!! I must say I really like your blog, girl! Keep up the good work and hang in there...

Play some XBox, kill myself and then sleep.


Some random craziness and anxious love to you gals
<3

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy

To Cinnamon: thanks for the worried comment, girl. I really apprecitate it. Gonna go get checked tomorrow. And I am so impressed by how you are doing this 30 day thing! You go girl!!! <3


So, I am home. Like hometown home. Like at home with my mom. Like OMG.
This morning I came down to see the car I now know I am going to buy. This one.

The pic kinda sucks, but I took it from the dealer's ad and cropped it. It took me about 15 minutes to upload the photo. Yay me!
Anyhow, I am pretty excited with the car.
Not so much for my daily intake. It has been beyond horrid.

Right now I am sitting at my mom's desk writing on my old Mac. The keyboard is old and the keys are hard to press, so it takes me a lot to type in at a decent speed rate without typos.
No one is in. I am alone with the two cats and my mom is out with the dog.
It is crazy how this place can change me in fifteen minutes. The minute I moved out and to another town, this house became something different. It became some kind of haunted manor.
I come down here and I am powerless. My self control goes out the window and I get lazy, moody and a fucking overeater. It is unbeliveable.
I cannot live here more than a few days, this place turns me into a fat piece of lazy ass.
And it's not because of some evident reason, like my mom is not a total nuts or a cat lady nor the house is as creepy as the Overlook Hotel in Shining.

I guess this place brings back the old me, the worst part of me. The part that sets the bar at "Wtf I am gonna eat my boredom out " and keeps going until it's too hard to turn back. 

I cannot even begin to tell you what I have been eating today. I feel gross and senseless. And a Jerk because I don't want to mess up my intestines any more. 

I haven't had any other episodes like the one I had yesterday. Luckily. But I have had some cramps and overall anxiety about it. 

I think it is likely that I have either this or this. Please do not watch the pages because it is graphic. Like nasty graphic.

Yes, I also am an hypochondriac, but on this I think I am somehow right.

I am scared that tomorrow's gonna be as bad as today.

I made my mom buy me some ginseng extract, those things that are supposed to get you active and going, because lately I am quite lethargic. 

So tomorrrow morning I am gonna get up fairly early, get a shower, drink one of those things and walk for at least an hour with the dog.

It will not shed the calories I have inhaled today, but it will be a step in the right direction of not wasting my days when I am here in my hometown. Then, mid-afternoon, I am gonna head back home.

If I start thinking of all the calories from fat and carbs I had today I am gonna have a panic attack. Seriously. Hopefully the ipecac syrup is on its way. I swore to myself (and to you, please feel free to chase me with pitchforks and fire if I don't) that I WILL USE IT WISELY, AND NOT RANDOMLY. ONLY IN CASE OF EXTREME NECESSITY. Like now. I would kill to have some. 

Then again I don't know if it would be a good idea with my unknown nasty disease.

A couple hours ago I went into my old room and started reading a few of my old psychology books. I came to the part about EDs and it said that in subjects with EDNOS the binges mainly occoured when alone, while in company the patients tend to restrict more.

Man I am totally the opposite. When there's people around is when I feel entitled to have some food and enjoy the company. Is when I am alone that I feel like I have no excuse to eat, likeI don't deserve it, so I restrict or plain starve.

Weird.

So, off to something else (some more food? no please god give me the strength) because I am on my mom's computer and even though she is totally tech retarded I am afraid the more I write the more likely it is she will find out what I wrote. Totally illogic.

Be stronger than me, ladies, and turn my failure into your example

Hugs and some lazy crazy love <3

Gonna have a panic attack in the privacy of my brain

P.S.
yes, I changed the blog title. It was floating around in my head for awhile, so I decided to actually change it. I like it a lot better. Hope you do too.

Rosemary's Baby in Red

So, the  other day I posted. Or at least I thought. Because the stupid iPhone app use to post cancelled the post. It wasn't published and I can't recover it. I was actually very proud of my post about an anorexic Mia Farrow in Rosemary's baby. 

In other news, I gained. Right now I am 110.5.
It sucks. Basically it is because I have been eating like a normal person and eating when drunk. No actually it's basically the craving carbs when wasted or just sipping a glass of wine at dinner thing.
It's pretty nasty. I start drinking and since I have no carbs during the day (eat veggies fruits and yogurt) I feel like I am legitimated to have them when drinking, otherwise I would be totally wasted and puking my entrails in no time.
So it starts with a bite of something, a couple of crisps, then, since I have a slight tendency towards compulsion, it escalates into grabbing everything in sight and ordering a couple more cocktails. Eventually by the time I get home I am totally drunk, stuffed with carbs and crave something sweet. So I usually plan on stuffing my face with whatever I have at home that can remotely be resemblant to a dessert. 
But since nothing of that kind usually sits in my cupboard, I then plan on buying something on the way home. An ice cream, cannoli, a cupcake, whatever.
At that point I am totally disgusted with myself and head home, in despair.

So you can see why I gained.
And today I haven't been a good girl either.
Tonight I ate at my boyfriend's and had a lot (some meat, four meatballs, enchilada-just the bread wrapping- then came home and had four chips ahoy! cookies and some soy milk). Bad.
And today has been bad at lunch too.

But it was another story.
A graphic one.
So, I am officially warning you, don't read: graphic post ahead.

Today, around one pm, I was in the bathroom, going #2.
I stand up to flush and see a bloodbath. I think to myself "hey, I finally got my period!" (actually not entirely happily).
Then, a second later, I realize that no, it was not where the blood came from. Yes, it came not from where you should expect it coming every thirty days. Nope.
You got it right. 
Yes.
There.

So, I start to panic.
Like oh my god I am dying. 
Like why the heck it is not stopping.
Then I call my mom and she tells me it's kinda ok, it happens blah blah blah.

But I am not calm. I am still scared as shit. So I start browsing the net, and I start thinking about the way I have been eating. It's all over the place. I am either starving with diet coke and juice or stuffing my face for one day, then I am back to my regular diet of salad, apples, peaches and yogurt and some occasional tuna.
And then I find this Crohn's disease page. It's a chronic inflammation of the colon (in most cases) that, even though not deadly, is not completely curable.
I have a lot of its symptoms.

So I got scared and thought it would not be a bad idea to have a decent meal, drop the coke and call the liquid fast off.
My lunch then consisted in:
Some green salad and some tuna (water) 70
a yogurt (110)
1 oz fat free cottage cheese (33)
2 special k mini breaks (99 each)

A fuckload. 
Plus dinner.
This is one of those days. Those 1000cals days.
But I am pretty scared. I know I have always had problem with my intestines, fine. But this is actually not a pretty outcome and I seriously doubt that malnutrition can help it.


Gonna play some Xbox and then sleep.

Hugs and some crazy love <3

Follow up

So.
A few days have passed. Like a lot. Like it's happened a lot. Like me and S are back together. Like he started crying and telling me that he loved me. Like I crumbled and gave into my instincts.
I have passed the last weeks thinking about this. You see, you girls are not the only ones that consider this character a bad human being and a lousy boyfriend. Pretty much everyone that I know told me how effing lucky I was that he had left me. That I needed to move forward and build a better life.
I feel like I have let everybody down. And you too. I don't know where to put this, where to shelf this thing I have going on with him. This circle of sorrow and lust and hopes and shattered self esteem. I don't know why this happens. I am not like that.

So, I spent the last week and a half dreading the moment where I had to explain to people that yes we're back together. And that includes you. So, to the bunch of lovelies that follow me, sorry for the lack of posts. But I was kinda in a limbo.

Not that I am much better now. Actually I feel like a beast.
I went down to 107.8. My lowest in a LOT.
And now I just weighed in: 114.

It is sickening. I come from a two days non stop fucking binge and now I am about to go to dinner out with friends.
It amazes me how much I can eat.

You must know that here in Italy (yep, ladies, Italy) carbs are like Jesus. Like this crazy almighty element that is everywhere. There's bread. There's focaccia (look it up if you don't know it). And flavored focaccia. And croissants. And pasta. And cakes. And a lot of fucking carbs. So, when I go back home, my parents start feeding me. When I am home I restrict, eat no carbs and rarely eat over 500 cals.

But when I am either with S or my family my rules pretty much go out of the window. I eat. I can't bring myself to tell you what I have eaten so far, and it's 8.18 PM.
2 crackers
Like a slice of a typical cake (almond and hazelnuts)
A croissant
Slice of focaccia
Little slice of pizza
Some home made fries
A little piece of fruit cake, like little little
2 packets of crackers
A 100 cal chocolate bar
Half a kitkat

And that is today.
Yesterday was as good. I had TWO ice creams (220+180) and a shitload of stuff.
I feel like a monster. Like I could've eaten carbs and normal people meals all week and totaled the same amount of calories this week.

When I am home I am some kind of eating-sleeping-monster.
[insert awesome Mich's style pic]
Right now I feel so intoxicated by the food I ingested. The toxins and the calories turned my tongue to a dry sponge-like salty monstrosity.
And in all this mess I have not been able to get my hands on the bloody ipecac syrup. I have tried with a friend of mine that works in a pharmacy, but so far had no reply.
Fuck.

I really really hope the 114 madness goes down. Or I'll have to kill myself.


Finally:
Thanks to the ladies who commented: I really really really appreciate, even if I let you down by not following your words.
Cinnamon, your advice and motto is simply brilliant. When I'll be able to live by it, I will be a blissful person.

Love girls,
Gotta go out and eat some more.

Like blood they fall

It happened.

 After the last post, that now seems such a prediction, S left me.
HE left ME. which in itself is a plain nonsense.

So, he came back from miami yesterday, we met quickly for a coffee after he landed and at dinner I went eating at his place (with his mom).

I have to explain a few things now. As I mentioned in the previous post, I moved 7 months ago to his hometown, causing me to have to pay for the rent and looking for a job that could allow me to survive.

Around one year and a half ago he decided to start designing bags: he saw one that had a particular style to it, and decided to copy it and improve it. So, with the help of his friend that is into the fashion business, he started designing bags. Actually it was mainly the friend that managed the whole thing, so when this guy moved to Brazil I started helping him.
I was making phone calls, sending emails (not a full time thing, every now and then). And, when I moved here he told me I could be a sales rep (basically going from one city to another trying to find stores that would purchase the bags) and that he would pay me. I said yes.

Basically he never paid me. 
Partially because I went to only a couple of places and partially because he never bothered to realize that a big part of the job was not going around like a jerk, but working from the computer and the phone and doing other stuff. So I did these things and he never realized that I was actually working. 
The biggest deal though, was that he couldn't give a shit about the whole project.
 It was a past time that soon annoyed him since it required too much effort and time. So he never did anything, not even a phone call. It was all up to me, and when I needed him he wouldn't mind about it or try to postpone the problem.

It now happens that I really have to start earning some cash, since my parents are cutting me off.
The other day I got an offer for this receptionist job (for a firm, not a hotel) quite well paid. I went to the interview and they loved me. They offered the job as they told me yesterday.

So, after dinner I told him. That I was thinking about taking it cos I am having money issues and that I could still help doing the job with the motherf*cking bags.

He went crazy. How dare I? I had taken a commitment with him! I promised to do a job for him but never did anything! I fooled him! I am a bitch that tried to screw him over! I am not to be trusted! I am a whore!
I tried explaining him that I NEED TO PAY THE FUCKING RENT AND THE FEW THINGS THAT I EAT but he wasn't even listening.
He then told me to leave and that didn't want to see me again.
He ironically wished me good luck. Told me that i should never call him again and that I am a fake bitch.

I went home bawling.
Tried to sleep while he sent me a last text telling me how big a delusion I was. 

And after today, I feel in such a weird place.
Between a binge and the will to starve to death.

I am anesthetized. Numb. I wanna cut so badly. But I know that when I will go back home I will be watched upon. 
He even called me today to ask me if I had registered him to a bike race. I had forgotten, cos I have a lot of things to do. 
He found nice telling  me once more that I am not reliable.

I don't know what to do. Everyone tells me that I am lucky he left me cos he is toxic. I know. I hate him.

But right now all I would like to do is sleep and not dream and to cut out the tattoo that spells his name on my arm.



Hugs girls,
Thanx for the comments on the last post. Apparently you were right.

Alpha Dog

So, one week later.

Again, I suck at posting frequently. Actually it has been a hectic week. You see, living alone is a blessing and a pain in the ass. I literally have no time to do anything that is not essential: I wake up, clean dog's poop/pee, feed him, go out, drive to work, work, come back somewhere around 4 PM, take the dog out for an hour or so, buy something, clean some more, if it's a gym day I go to the gym, eat and finally sleep.

And of course, since I live away form my family I have no one to ask to do these things for me. There's no one that can take care of the dog, no one that can help me clean and I certainly do not have the money (at least right now) to pay someone to do it. Sure I have an unemployed boyfriend that COULD do it, or at least help me once in awhile, but he's way too spoiled and narcissistic to care about someone that isn't himself, so it's like I'm here alone.


I said  someday I would be talking about this boyfriend (ok, I'll call him S) and I think I want to do it now.
It's been three years since we started going out. When I met him (totally random thing, like in a movie-a really cheesy one) I thought I couldn't be so lucky. Me!
He is handsome [he looks like Emile Hirsch, taller with a hotter body], rich, funny, smart and a great f...lover. So I couldn't believe that he was actually interested in me, poor little me. Me with my average everything, except my low self esteem.

So, we began dating and I fell madly in love with him.
Turns out he's a cheater, a keen cheater. Turns out he's a sadist, a subtle sadist. Turns out he has a problem with rage, nothing dangerous, but he gets mad like that. Turns out in life he just wants to have fun. Turns out he constantly reminds me of how fat I am, of how I should lose 20 pounds to be acceptable.
Turns out he tells me he loves me and that he wants to marry me someday. Turns out he's hurt and incredibly sweet and needy. Turns out with him I discovered I actually wanted children, a family and everything else. Turns out I would do anything to please him and to keep him with me.

He has caused me to spiral back into old ways and new fashions to hurt myself. And I moved from my hometown to be closer to him. I now live alone, he never asked me to move in.

Writing this down is really heavy. It lets me see what kind of a relationship I'm in. Everyone told me I should just fuck the bastard off and go on with my life, but I can't. Not right now.
He's crawled under my skin and into my mind so deep I don't know if I want him out, even if he hurts me.
Of course, not everything and every day with him is awful. We have great moments and we get along like no one I've ever seen. The ups match the downs in magnitude, but not in frequency.
I often realize that I can't let him hurt me like this, that I'm smart enough to see that he doesn't actually love me. But I can't seem to let him go. I have sacrificed so much at this point it would be stupid to give up.
I'm like that. I like to hurt myself.

Right now he's in Miami and I'm home with the dog he presented me with for our three years anniversary.
Most of the times the little sucker's a liability, but I love him (the little sucker is the dog, wasn't too clear).
Once a day he calls me (at improper hours, seen the time difference) and he tells me about these properties he wants to buy the square footage, the exposition, the millions, the investment, the girls he met ("But I didn't do anything, I swear!"), how they are hotter, skinnier and have bigger fake boobs than me.

And I'm here, in my little studio, with the dog, with 600 $ to my name, not buying pants I need cos I can't afford them, and I feel like we're a million miles apart.
We're in such different places. He has nothing to do in life, he doesn't have to work and his life is all fun and games, and in three years I haven't seen him change a bit. He's still the same, does the same shit and still behaves, from time to time, as if I don't exist.
He's going back to Miami in a month or so, after a little trip with his friends at the beginning of June. I am not invited to any of these activities, of course. I can't afford it. He could pay for it, but doesn't want to.
Poor little me could take advantage of him, you know.


It's liberating to say these things with no censorship. I mean, my mom and friends know everything, but it still feels good to share this with some people I don't even know.

I won't talk about food, it's been a mess last weekend, so I basically am at the same weight if not 1/3 pound higher. Fuck. And I also started working out again.




Ok I will talk about food. Had 580 cals today, walked an hour with the dog so net should be 420 or so. Not
satisfied. By the end of next week wanna be below 108 at least.
Gonna go finish watching Alpha Dog with my lookalike boyfirend-movie's quite good, but I'm watching it now because it reminds me of S- and probably have a sip of something. Almond flavored soy milk. Or Light Coke. Or white Jasmin tea.

Finally one big huge thanks to Bones, parisienne.love, Danae and Elara.
You surely made my day and I hope you appreciate my writing. My love goes out to you and good luck for whatever you're up to right now. 

Hugs and lots of love- 

Wake me up before you GoGo

So, I weighed in today.

Actually I weigh myself more or less 3/4 times a day, but whatever. I lost 2 pounds- I am now 108.9.
Heaven knows how. I haven't been going to the gym in a month, haven't gone running and the only activity that had a physical quality to it has been walking the dog for an hour everyday.
I have been eating the usual safe stuff:

green apples
cereal soup
tuna canned in water
green salad
yogurt
zymil milk
soy milk (recently discovered the chocolate one, sooo good and sooo many useless calories on one box)
soy yogurt
bananas
pickles
oh, and LOTS of cinnamon everywhere (you name it and I've put cinnamon on it)
candies (ok, I am a kid and sometimes I like my candies. I know it's a bad idea but I can't resist them)

That's pretty much what I have in my house food wise. It's kinda sad when someone happens (quite rarely indeed) to come to my house and asks for food. I kinda really have nothing to prepare a decent meal with, except the pasta in the cabinet. That shall remain uncooked until guest's request.
But I feel comfortable without the carbs. I usually had a lot of them. I mean, a biscuit here, a cracker there, a loaf of bread and so forth.
But last month I ran out of these things and decided not to buy them again and, surprisingly I now don't miss them. Really, it's like a detox process. I can live without that. It's not necessary. And I have also managed not to binge in a proper way during this month (or actually it's more than one month, maybe one and a half).
The last binge I remember was on Monday, I got mad at the boyfriend (I have to find a name for him, cos it's way too generic and 90s) and binged on three chocolates (50x3) and a yogurt (145). Coulda been worse.
Before that I don't even remember. The truth is that now, when I am alone I cannot seem to force myself to eat what is not included in my previous list. I usually indulged when I was with other people, kinda like this-is-a-social-occasion-you-can-do-it-and-enjoy-it, but right now I am always keeping on the safe side. We go for a pizza, I have a salad.
And when I am alone and have to eat something for some reason, it's a big deal. I have been craving a pizza for awhile (as you might remember). And have gone out eating with friends a few time but, after a silent struggle, have always ordered the salad.
The only person I feel like can convince me, that can allow me to have something else is the boyfriend.
I shall discuss this matter in the next post, because there's a lot to talk about there.

In other news, here is hot as hell and sticky as shit, so I am quite displeased with the day. Right now I am laying on my bed, dog under my legs, typing the evening away.
And since I have been drinking a lot yesterday and the day before, I kinda need a night alone sober. I really hate people and social occasions. Like I am supposed to be interesting or interested or cute and funny. Recently I am depressed, useless and have little interest in making myself look hot when I think I am not. But I cannot resist an invitation, so I usually say yes, apart from tonite. That I remain alone and sober, deciding what to watch on TV.

Also, today was a 550 cal day. Way too much. But yesterday had no food, except for one yogurt around 6. But I don't even know why I bother to count calories: they always could've been less.

Full stop.

Why can’t I seem to post on a regular basis? Man, do I have to get a grip on that.

First things first: thanx  to my two brand new followers Heather and Black Angel. Thank you for the interest.

And thank to Ms. Cinnamon Brown for mentioning me in her last post. I deeply appreciate the compliments, man I don’t think I deserve them. But really, even if I don’t know you IRL, I think you are someone that deserves happiness in life because you’re one of the last positive and caring people out there.

So, I need advice girls.

Please help me. Here’s the situation. I have (as I posted before) stopped taking the pill two months ago for various reasons: wanting to lose weight and at the moment I was on a break with my boyfriend and the thought of being reminded everyday that I had to live without him by that pill gave me the chills. So, I stopped taking it.

Another fact: my period’s always been a royal mess. Months skipped and always massively late when I am not on the pill. So I was quite prepared for some post-pill madness.

I had my last (pill) monthly bleeding in February, 27^th. By now I should’ve already had two periods but I have had none.

I know I am not pregnant. I am positively sure about it, I took a test and in the meanwhile got blood tested (the results came out a bit all over the place, pointing towards anemia, but managed not to show them to the doctor) and everything came out negative.

But now my mom (who thank god lives in another town) is kinda worried and wants me to take tests and shit. I know I have lost some weight, but not that much to justify this. But I really don’t know. Is it imputable to a wrong eating pattern or what? Do you girls (who of course happen to read this blog) have any idea? Does it vary from person to person? Do you have insights and experiences you want to share?

I would be much grateful.

LoveLoveLove

Memories. (like the corners of my mind)

Why can’t I seem to post on a regular basis? Man, do I have to get a grip on that.

Anyhow, pretty regular weekend. A friend of mine came over from my home town and we got out on Saturday nite and I drank like there’s no tomorrow- also ate quite a few carbs that always seem to find their way down my throat when I’m drunk.

Then Sunday I managed to keep it as usual.

Monday was totally depressing. I cut. Again.

I started when I was 16 and went on for 4 years more or less. 

Then I gave myself a cut so bad it needed stitches. I had to call my parents (it was night) while dripping blood on the floor. I had my wrist open, the cut was an inch and a half wide. And I really didn’t want to hurt myself that much. It was a mere mistake. I was reading and dragging the blade on my skin, then I figured I could do a slash motion and when I turned I saw a fucking crack on my arm four fingers wide. Fuck, I thought. Then blood started dripping like teardrops on the floor and I started panicking.

Then all the routine, hospital, doctors asking how did I do it and so forth. 
When I entered the ER this male nurse started asking me the usual questions, my name, age, where I lived, and how the heck it happened. I stood silent for five seconds.
I was ashamed and afraid. I  hoped they wouldn't send me to the psych ward.
So I told him it was confidential. He glared back to the paper where he was writing down all the details and his pen froze halfway between the self inflicted and the accidental boxes.

He eventually ticked the accidental one.

Figuring that that one act of humanity saved me from all the shite that would come next (psych ward, more meds, incompetent psychiatrists and so on) I realized I had to stop. 
I didn’t want to live my life like that. Between hospitals, on meds, wasting time and all my energies. So I quit.

And stood clear of it for eight goddamn years.

Then, last summer I did it again.

With a different perspective: I had the right to do it. I had  been thinking about it, talking about it (in therapy) and studying it (I have a degree in psychology) but I came to the conclusion that it was (is) my right to do it. Very clear, no drama about it. Just I am an adult and have all the means to decide how to handle my life and how to cope with problems. That’s just my way. Therapy can make me feel less hopeless and can give me an idea of a way out, but if at some point I decide to kill myself, that’s just my choice. I am smart, adult and wise.

Writing these things down is either a mistake or a really arguable idea. I hope my words will not trigger or touch anyone too much. It’s just ramblings, nothing more. 

Just a thought

Hey Mich, thanks for following and commenting. I seriously adore your blog and your take on things. Oh, and the pics. I am honored.

Anyway, I was looking around blogs, comments and stuff-took a look at mine, so new and still immature- and I had a thought. I really like this community.

Sometimes in life you have the distinct feeling that the biggest part of  mankind sucks. You encounter all kinds of people (friends, relatives, teachers, lovers, random strangers) and more than once one or more of them will hurt you. They will show low moral standards and virtues, no empathy, understanding and even lack of any decency.
I have thought mankind sucked so many times. Because of so many people.
But reading these pages, the comments, and the support and kindness that revolves around our stories made me change my mind.
Around here there's always a kind and empathic word, there's always unconditioned support and affection. No one knows no one in real life, I don't know any of you, I might meet you and I wouldn't know it.  But the affection is true.
We learn to know and care for each other not only because we share the same (more or less) issues with food. But because we put it out there. Because we open ourselves and share.
Society teaches us to look strong, to never show weakness or ask for help. That's exactly what we do here. We share and ask for support.
And that's exactly why we care and genuinely support each other, like I have rarely seen in real life.

Kudos to you girls-
Hugs and Love

The Dog

Today i've been eating like a pig:

two yogurts (activia- natural and cereals- 250 total)

cereal soup (half a bowl- 80 )

fuckin 4 chocolates (the same my boyfriend bought me, mentioned in the first post- 200 )

super skimmed milk (60 cals)

And it's 5.10 in the afternoon.

And  feel like I need an ice cream. I am afraid I'm going to get one while i walk the dog in a few minutes.

Ok, it's not so much, like in the real world. But f*ck me it's an awful lot to me. Like terribly terrlbly wrong. 

Because when I'm on this path it usually boils down to me devouring everything in sight like some kind of monster, thank god I don't have ready to eat carbs.

Ind thank god I can't make myself throw up. I just can't, I tried so many times, seriously like a lot of times, staying in the bathroom 20 minutes at a time but never succeeding. I just stand there halfway crouched on the toilet with almost my entire arm down my throat, and nothing. All I get is saliva and a cough. 

But rationally, I am seriously glad. because I know, I am sure that by now I would be doing it twenty times a day and I would be even more f*cked up. 

Five hours later-

I interrupted writing because I had to walk the dog.

So, I walked him (as depicted above) and came back home. Walked in the park, usual stuff, picking up poop etc. Came home and thought about food (of course) and since I was supposed to go out I thought I should eat something to fill me up in order not to binge on junk while drinking out.

So i had a can of tuna canned in water (50) and a banana (90). 

Then things started to turn badly. I realized I was not eventually going out and I started stress eating. Like "if I'm not going out I should at least pleasure myself with food". 

I ate a kiwi cereal activia yogurt (you know, that yogurt that supposedly wakes up your bowels) and a miniature pizza. Right this moment, as I am typing, there's another one of those things cooking in the oven and  thank god I only had two in the freezer. So today was more like a 1000 cal day. I don't even wanna count exactly.

I am officialy a jerk. I already feel like shit (after those three yogurts my intestines are having a party and everything i had to eat in the past days is invited) and nauseous, but I'm here waiting for that stupid thing to be done. Then i will sit on the bed and eat it. I am such an idiot. 

Ate it now. Not quite as good as I had planned. 

Since I have this cute little dog (4 months old) and he is constantly eating plastic, paper, wood, chalk, you name it and hiccuping like crazy all the time, I have a plan. 

I am going to the vet and have him prescribe the infamous ipecac syrup for the dog- aka in case of terrible emergency when I feel too much of a guilty and fat moron to walk on earth and have eaten too much. 

I know it's poisonous, so I am not going to use it on a daily basis. Just once in a while, in case of emergency. like today. 

All in all, today was a stupid day.

Cheers

Tamponless

first of all, thanx to my new two followers Elly and Jen Jen. Man, I am truly honored! thank you and I hope you will enjoy whatever I am writing. <3

So, today I was looking around my page in Myfitnesspal (you should totally get it!Sooo incredibly and disturbingly useful-I am impressed that no one has bothered accusing it of helping people developing EDs) and was checking out my progress when I realized I have lost 10 pounds in 6 months.
It's nothing near much but i was impressed. i also lost 2 inches around my waist and one and a half on my thighs and hips. Not much again, but i am impressed. I am impressed by the fact that i feel kinda equally fat.

I mean, i feel like i have 10 more pounds to go (ideal weight 100 lbs). So, does this mean that back in November i had 20 f*cking pounds of fat on me to lose??It kinda flips my brain out. Like, do I really have that bad perception of my own body? Okay, right now I feel a little skinnier and am kinda happy that the jeans that used to be god awful tight or off limits are now baggy. But other than that I feel not near my goal at all. I know that these 10 more pounds will be harder to shed even though I am still losing, but I am beginning to really feel the illusion behind this.
I'm halfway through and i feel so not accomplished at all.
I feel like i might get back to where I was overnight. That I might wake up tomorrow and be 120 again.

In the past three weeks or so I have not been attending the gym. Actually it was for a number of reasons (my knee acting up, other things to do etc) more than just plain laziness. For the past four months I have been taking this boxing class and it is incredibly hardcore workout as it is funny. So totally it's 3 times a week and 1 hour 30 each time: more or less 4 hours a week. I really started to see my body change after I begun this class, since I have always been the laziest b*tch on the planet and my body was rewarding my final effort to stay in shape.
I feel like shite for not going all this time, essentially because I was afraid that my metabolism would totally be slowed down again by the lack of workout.
Instead I am losing. despite the fact that the past weekend I have eaten like a pig and also the weekend before that. I don't seriously know how it is possible. Probably it is perfectly normal and logical and I'm just so f*cked up I don't get it.
I mean, I weigh myself after one of these uber caloric meals and I am seriously 3 pounds heavier. 36 hours later I am at the weight I was before, and a day later I am even a pound lighter.

Probably it is also because I decided to go off the pill. That shit makes you gain like crazy. Ok, the upside to that is that you are sure that you're getting your goddamn period on time and each and every month but when I started it I gained something like 6 pounds that I hadn't been able to shake off.
So, I stopped taking those pills two months ago. and now it seems like the second month I won't have to use tampons.
Hurray for that but darn it to the eternal doubt of being pregnant. Meh.
Win some, lose some.

Pizza.

OH boy do I want a pizza.
Don't really know why but I literally have to chew my own legs off not to go out and get one from the place in front of my building. It is curious how things can become something else.How food can become something much more meaningful than just mere feeding.

That is why ED are never beaten: once you start seeing food as something more, as a problem, as a solution, as an evil presence or saving grace, there is no turning back. It becomes this obsession, and regardless of your diagnosis or physical condition, all you want to do at some point is to go back. Go back at a moment when IT WAS NOT A PROBLEM. I remember once upon a time when the craving for pizza would not be an issue: I would just get one and that would be it. No guilt trip, no drama, no nothing, just a good old fucking stimulus-response case.
That's what I wondered today, as I was walking the dog, passing by a waiter with a plate full of chips and beers: I would like to go back to that moment when food was just food and not a threat or a binge related activity. That is why, again, ED are always there, because you will always have to deal with food and once your perception is fucked up it's like a dog that's been beaten all his life: it will inevitably stay that way because it's used to.

Now, reading this you might wonder (as I do when I read other people's blogs, it's awful I know but I like to have all the details) how am I. Incredibly thin, super fat, moderately overweight and such. I'm 5'5 and 110 lbs. Perfectly average overweight. Ok, I might also be 111, today I haven't weighed myself cos I feel too fat.

Second post about another kind of food: if I keep up like this I can go on for 4657 posts.

And to my first and only follower Cinnamon Brown goes ALL my love and best wishes for everything you're up to. I will try my best not to let you down girl!

cheers

1h 20 min later-
just ate 2 chocolates (50 cals each). When will I learn, when will I learn??
Way to go, this sets me at 580 for the day. a freaking lot. but none of them in carbs, since I have developped the very sane custom of having not one carb in my kitchen (I live alone). So if I wanna snack it's either fruit or milk or a yogurt. Or the chocolates my boyfriend gave me.

First. Post. (Ever)

Ok. First post here. First post ever in my existence. This is hard and weird. How am i supposed to write something interesting to people that ignore everything about me? I mean, i don't even find myself interesting to people who DO know me.

I have been eating lots of chocolate as of today and yesterday and the day before that. Usual Easter madness. I get so caught up in the sugar induced bliss that I am like some kind of drug addict. Seriously. I know I have issues managing my food intake and choosing what to actually put into my body and how much of it, but I am firmly convinced that chocolate is like heroin. Pure goddamn heroin. Like Sid Vicious heroin, like back in the eighties heroin. I know and have studied all of the scientific reasons of it, but they really seem to fail explaining the craze and pure joy I get from eating a little bit of chocolate. There's the pure happiness of that moment, the few seconds when it melts in your mouth, and then I want MORE. Not like "let's have another teeny bit" but more like Godzilla tearing buildings shredding cars eating people crave.
And now I am fighting myself not to go into the kitchen and fetch another chocolate. Because I'm just like that, I like hurting myself.
I have been doing it in many different ways on and off for a lot of years, but foodwise I have just recently come to the conclusion that instead of hurting myself in a straightforward way (i.e. not eating) most of the times I really LOVE hurting myself in a sneakier and much more effective way. If I do not eat I will be hurting myself because my body needs to be fed and so forth, but I will feel (and also be) skinnier, that is a pro. If I eat (read binge on junk) i will hurt myself in TWO ways! I will have my wonderful ED related issue AND I will get (and feel) fatter. So that's just better if you wish to hurt yourself. But again, that's just me, I like to take care of things in a serious way.


And now I cannot believe I have made my first post ever about chocolate. Wise and pertinent choice. Man, have I got a problem. Also, I really hope someone reads this.
If it happens, and someone DOES read it, all my love goes out to you.