Redefining Violet

I'm changing, my darlings, and it is hard to put into proper words what that change is, let alone what it means. I've spent some time reading through my past via the postings from two summers ago, etcetera. There is a conclusion to which I have now come to about the two aspects of greatest similarity during each period of extreme weight loss: controlled and miserable.


Yes, I seemed happy when those beautiful size 5 demin shorty shorts fit perfectly on my hips without so much as a slight caress on my thighs. But that happiness faded as I continued to worry about each and every thing I ate, feeling as though I was literally expanding with every mouthful of excess calories. When I became thin, all I wanted was to be thinner. The only things I relied on to make my day worthwhile were the lowest possible calories consumed, the size of my pants, and the number on the scale written down twice a day. That isn't happiness...it's misery. I had so much power in controlling to an extreme what I ate. It felt like such a good thing. Instead, it was a constant reminder that perfection meant a number and how far up my arm I could encircle with my thumb and middle finger.
I'm so different from what I was then. No longer am I ana's little bitch, sad and alone, wishing for perfection through a "life style".
I think I knew I could make this change the right way after my ass was thoroughly kicked, then handed back to me full of a strength I didn't know I could possess. Six days a week, I drag myself out of bed and head downstairs. Within the concrete walls of my basement, I do cardio, lift weights, squat, and every other physical activity meant to build strength. All of my preconceived notions have been officially stripped away. Maybe my pants size does not reflect it, but I have shed something to reveal a new form of myself. I think this me is here to stay.
Once, I was afraid that my calves would become even bigger if I focused on them (they have always been strong from cheerleading). Now, they are slimmer than ever and I no longer fear the effort of tugging the legs of my skinny jeans over them. At the beginning of the summer, I was in a size medium unisex shirt. Now, my size smalls are becoming too large and the idea of stretching them out in any area, even the bust, seems utterly preposterous. The bras whose cups could easily cover a friend's face (she demonstrated it once and we all had a good laugh...at my expense) are now only 3/4 full of my breasts. The rest of my body is changing right along with it. Every morning I look in the mirror and can see it. My stomach is tightening up and the only lines that appear are the beginnings of defined abdominals.
But these changes, although wonderful, are not the most important.
I am happy.
Truly and deeply I feel happy. There is a renewed energy about me that is nearly palpable to my family and friends that I see (even through Skype).
I think it's here to stay.
Tomorrow, I'm running. Before, I always told myself that I would never try to run until I was skinny enough to look good doing it. Tomorrow will be my second time.
I'm getting stronger.
I'm happier.
But better yet, I think I am truly becoming me.

The "S" Words

There are two of them really, or at least two that I am currently thinking of. Want to know what they are? We'll get to that in a bit.

I've definitely been going through reasons why I'm trying to lose so much weight. For one, I'm craving that confiendence that is stored so deeply within my layers of fat that I simply must shed them all in order to uncover it once more. However, that is a "c" word, so we're not there with.
Relationships. Well, let's just say I really haven't had more than rediculous high school freshmen type "love" and a summer fling with a guy that I really just loved as a friend. I think my problem goes back to being not confident enough and never thinking that a guy could actually like me. Sure, I do allow myself to have the occasional fantasy that some incredibly attractive man is giving me a good, sexy look over. There is this one guy in Best Buy that I've made this sexy sort of eye contact with on several different visits. I'm sure he's just looking around the room, but I endure these illusions of gradeur anyway. Besides, he's incredibly attractive: perfect facial hair that doesn't give off the yeah-I'm-a-douche vibe, honest eyes, and very muscular.
Now this leads to the "s" that you've all been waiting for (doubtful, yes, but again...grandeur).

Sex.

I haven't done it. I'm twenty years old and I have yet to be with a guy in that manner. Sure, maybe it's something that I should be proud of since much of America seems to encourage nonsensical shows like "Teen Mom" that idolize horrid parenting by teenagers (my apologies if any of you like the show, or even have similar circumstances...no judgment here, promise!).

But I want it.

Which leads me to my goal and other "s" word: skinny. Despite how much I want it, I don't think I would have the courage to allow any garments to be removed without my body being the way I want it to be: skinny.
And so I continue to get up at rediculous hours...okay for summer, 7:00am is qualified as such...to work out excessively.
Thus, it is possible that one of my resulting goals is that I am working out for sex.
Interesting proposition, no? I think my dear Mr. Freud would be so proud. Another part of me hopes that attractive Best Buy man would be willing....

xo, Violet

An Ode to the Pink Shorts

I must confess, I have fallen into the college trend of Nike/sports shorts. They're comfy and a great alternative for days when I don't feel like dressing up whatsoever. I found this adorable pair of pink shorts on sale at Target a few weeks ago. To my dismay, they had ever size except the large that I needed. Instead of walking away, I thought to myself "I sure as hell am not going to get bigger, nor do I want to stay the same....so buy the medium!". And so I did. Every three days or so I get out the shorts to see if they fit. They're not nearly as tight as they used to be, but I still have many more pounds to go before I will look amazing in those beautiful pink shorts.

My last few posts have been incredibly brief and I apologize profusly for such neglect. I have come to understand that I failed last time because I relied solely on restricted eating to achieve the size I wanted. It worked....for a while and at a price. For one, it took longer than it should have to attain the sunken stomach appearance, and two, once I began to eat again I couldn't stop.

The lowest point I had this year was when I came home in May and finally stepped on the scale. Instead of reading the weight that I had started out with before bouts with ana, it read 171 lbs. On a 5' 2" frame this weight is horrendous! My younger brother began to kick me into shape with intense workouts and weight lifting.

I began changing....

Much of my life I have feared looking like one of those over-muscled women who appear to be men if you cover up the face. Wrongfully, I believed that lifting weights and doing any physical activity besides running would do that to my body. However, women do not have the proper hormones to build so much muscle. Instead, we are able to burn more fat and calories through weight-lifting. In lifting weights, one may weigh 130 lbs, but look like she is less than 120 lbs and a size 2. I found this incredible tumblr here that shows all of these amazing, beautiful, and strong women. Once I opened the page, I knew that the body I am truly supposed to have is featured among the scrolling pictures.

I now try to work out five days a week. Sometimes I don't always succeed, but when I do I feel amazing.

In the morning, I do not avoid the mirror when I am naked. Instead, I look at myself from each angle, deciding on what has changed and what still needs a large amount of work...my entire body falls into the latter of the two categories. But I have changed. Instead of bursting out of the size small unisex tees in my drawers, I now can put them on without stretching the shirt excessively beforehand. Now the only area that is tight is my chest. During my weight gain, my breasts jumped up to a 36DDD. Holy....boobs. I think I've always had breasts on the large size, but I couldn't believe the actual measurement! The good news, however, is that my bras are much looser now, which hopefully means that natural reduction is occurring.

In truth, I think my whole idea of body image is changing. I want to be strong. Not only do I want to be small enough to be lifted up by a guy, but also strong enough to be a bit of a challenge wrestling (the kind with the clothes on....I want to be moreso exciting in the kind without clothes, if you know what I mean...). I can still be entirely small and confident, yet still have well-toned muscles.

Perhaps I'm lazy. I haven't been counting calories like a proper lady should. I'm still working on that part. All I know is that I seek comfort in the knowledge that if I work, then I can be who I truly am supposed to be- beautiful.

Becoming: Extraordinary

That word- extraordinary- has been such an emotional word for me. Above all things in life, I desire most to be that word. At times it can reduce me to tears, whereas other times it makes me push just a bit harder against my own percieved limits.

I'm getting stronger.

Witty Title Here ----->

Things have been going well so far. I am still afraid to weigh myself; one more reminder of how wrong my thinking has become. I had a mini panic attack the other day. I had planned on consuming 500 calories or less, but my friends (whom I haven't seen for nearly a year) suggested we go out to Cold Stone for dessert and girl talk. I was okay with that, telling myself that I would just get a kid's sized single flavor with sprinkles. Then, of course, mom made cheeseburgers for lunch again (400 cal) after I had eaten homemade oatmeal for breakfast (100 cal). Fearful, I decided to look up the calories of Cold Stone ice cream. There wasn't a single item on the menu that was less that 300 calories! I panicked. My stomach clenched, my sight became narrowed, and I suddenly wanted to fake being sick so I wouldn't have to go. I went any way. But it got worse: between the three of us, we shared four "Love It" sized servings (it was college night "2 for $5 Love It" special). I failed so miserably. Even thinking about it now makes me want to throw up anything that I have ingested today.

But I can't focus on the past so much. My stomach is growling and I love it. So far, I have had 12 dark chocolate (powder, not dipped) almonds (80 cal). This morning I got up around 7:00 and went to the basement to work out. I completed four circuits of cardio from the Insanity Workout ( I got the idea from the Self magazine website here). I also did seven intense minutes of abs. By the end of the twenty-five minutes, I was pouring sweat. I didn't have enough time to do my weight training on the Bowflex, but tomorrow I will. Theoretically, I should be also to just count off the calories I burned, but 1) I don't actually know how many nor how to calculate them, and 2) I will eat less believing that I haven't burned anything off.

Speaking of burns....I have second degree sunburn on my lower breasts. I was an idiot and took a fantastic book outside to read for half an hour without putting on sunscreen. Before I realized it, two whole hours had passed. It's been about a week and a half since that happened and I can finally sleep on my stomach without severe pain. Needless to say, I will now be content to be pale for the rest of my life so long as I never have to have a bad sunburn like this again.

To keep some brevity, I shall bid you lovelies adieu. Stay strong and be beautiful!

xo Violet

The Return of Violet

It's been another year of ups and downs- a whirlwind of imperfection and desperation. 

I tried to push ana away and embrace myself, curves and all. It worked for a little while...and then I went up another jeans size and began fearing the warm weather that winter suddenly brought with it.

My friends tried an "intervention" with me during my embrace-myself time. You'd think that they'd have the common sense to know that I was definitely not starving myself during that period. They had a meeting with my Resident Director. It was embarrassing. It made me want to start starving once more.

But that didn't work. Finals came, and with stress came the need for more coffee. With the need for more coffee came calorie-loaded drinks with triple shots of espresso. With those calorie-loaded drinks came another five pounds and size medium t-shirts.

I'm embarrassed to say the weight that my short frame now carries. I don't think I have the courage to post it quite yet. But I can promise that this is a new beginning.When August comes around again and I head back to campus, I will no longer be the shy girl who walked with her head down and was noticed by no one. I won't be the automatic friend-zone. I will turn heads. I will have an opinion that is clearly heard. I will finally be the me that I feel is hidden deep within the confines of my fatten stomach. I refuse to be held back any longer.

I'm finally back, dear ones, and I don't think I'll be leaving any time soon.