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.