French Connections

Hello, darlings! Sorry I've been away for a while. I don't have much time to write at the moment, but I promise a nice update tomorrow and to be overall more competent at blogging much more frequently. So for now, I will share with you some of my greatest thinspirations....anything and (nearly) everything FRENCH. I'm studying abroad there the Fall of 2012 and so I absolutely must be thin, beautiful, and confident by that time. Even though it's a whole year away, that is what keeps me going and pushing onwards towards my weight loss goals.

Stay strong and enjoy some thinspo! 

(Admittedly, they're not all French or from the area of France. I guess I just naturally associate thin and beautiful with that country)

xo, Violet

My Gift To You

In thanks for all of your lovely comments and just being overall more dedicated/kind/amazing than I actually deserve, I thought I'd share a bit of my favorite thinspo with you. One thing you should know, Japan is one of my obsessions. I love the culture, food, sights, and most of all I love the beautiful people! So without further delay, I present to you all my favorite Japan-style thinspo. Enjoy.

Day 1- Nothing Like a Competition to Liven the Family Bonds

Hello, ladies! It's been a while, but I am finally back home and all settled in. Finals went pretty well. Of course, the exam I thought I failed, I aced, whereas the exam I thought I aced turned out to be a 76%. Oh well, that's how life goes sometimes, isn't it? Overall, 3 As, 1 A- (hopefully participation grade and extra credit will bump it up to a solid A), and 1  B. Not bad for my second semester of college. But I am glad to be home again.

Before I start, I should probably say that I really really do love my mum. We have our arguments here and there, but we pretty much get along about everything....except weight. That is where we come into the most conflicts. I know she just wants her daughter to find love and happiness in the world. She just forgot that it is just as good to find love and happiness in one's self as well. I love her, but she really messed me up. I haven't gone a single day since 6th grade that I haven't thought about my weight or going on a diet. Most mothers tell daughters to love themselves just the way you are....my mum laughed when I told her that's what I wanted to be able to do. 

But anyway, mum has lost weight. Mind you, she's still much heavier than me. Still, I couldn't help but be jealous of her weightloss, especially when I mentioned she had lost weight and she said nothing to me (I know I've lost weight already, I can see it in pictures between Easter and Mother's Day). So mum came up with this "brilliant" plan to basically pay me to lose weight. Great, huh? I haven't quite determined if I'm happy or just peeved that she wants to pay me money. She's trying to lose weight too. The vain part of me refuses to let her see my weight until I'm around the 140 marker again, but for now I'll create my own little weightloss chart to show her once I've lost quite a bit (who knows...maybe she'll still pay me!). A little extra coin can go a long way for a college student. So basically, we're competing to see who can become the thinnest/lose the most weight. It's almost amusing to try to out-health each other when it comes to eating. Of coruse she doesn't realize that I don't eat breakfast and eat very little for lunch. Or maybe she just doesn't care.

It's just a hunch, but I'm pretty sure my mom was anorexic at some point in her life or might even be now. For some reason, I don't think it would suprise me. All of her actions towards her own body and mine would definitely be more understandable. I just hope I never ever act like this towards my daughters some day. My mum raised me wonderfully in everything else except in  issues of  body image and the like.

So other news. I decided to start ABC diet again. This is definitely going to be my summer for change! Today went wonderfully (500 cal or less day). I had a granola bar (90), light frappe from Starbucks (160), and a small pita from the great Pita Pit (250). Not bad, not bad. I had this weird feeling of fear when I was looking for the ABC diet outline on the web. I was just suddenly afraid of how dangerous it could be. But then I remembered that being overweight is dangerous too. Plus, I'd rather die of thinness than obesity...as morbid as a preference of death is.

Well, sorry for my lack of brevity darlings. My thoughts are feeling a bit scattered today. I have an interview for a job at a daycare on Thursday. Not a fantastic job by any means, but compared to my other options of the grocery store or the bar (mum wouldn't allow me to be around alcohol anyway), it looks pretty dang good. So shoot me a bit of luck. I'm contemplating whether or not to take two online classes this summer. Decisions decisions....

Tonight, I'm just going to relax and sip my tea....maybe watch a new episode of Firefly.

Permanence is Entirely Objective

Sometimes I like to excuse my gluttony and say that it's in my genetics- I am destined to be fat for the rest of my life. Often I trick myself to believe that my body is permanent. My stretch marks running across the space where my tighs used to barely touch are permanent. My jiggly tummy is permanent. My chubby cheeks that I've been cursed with for so long are most certainly permanent.

It is when I begin to think things like that, that I resort to a nice hard slap to the face via my own hand. I wake up. Permanence is what you make of it. You can be permantently fat or permanently thin. You can either permanently eat whatever shit you want or you can permanently watch every morsel that passes your eager lips. Etcetera etcetera etcetera.

My favorite past time is looking my own genetics in the "eye" and saying "fuck you".

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I'm sorry for being away for so long. College has gotten a bit hectic. I'm done finally on Wednesday, but before I can drive off into the methaphorical sunset, I have to get through two finals, two papers, and a speech. Not bad, but still frustrating enough to keep my nose in the books and my fingers away from the keyboard. 

I'm getting better, darlings. Not in the recovery sense, but in the fact that I have now placed a door mat welcoming Ana back into my life. I'm down to pretty much one meal a day: supper. There's plenty of places to find that either don't allow food or don't have any. For the first time all semester, I have spent hours in the confines of the cushioned couches of the library.

I love the feeling of hunger seeping in and I love the way my stomach growls as I imagine it shrinking in the process. I'm eating just enough to focus on my studies, which often is far more than what I would like to ingest. I can tell this summer will be a good time for weight loss. There will be no one to invite me to dinner and I can spend most of the day working. 

I'm sorry this isn't as good of an update as you all deserve, but it is the best I can give right now. I'm trying to finish that stupid paper tonight and maybe create a study guide for one class. Wish me luck, darlings! I shall give you a much better post on Thursday.

All my love,

 Violet

Promises

Sorry I haven't posted in so long darlings! I promise there will be a nice big update tonight. The college year is winding down and I'm getting plauged with preparations for finals. Have no fear, I'll keep my promise tonight!

xo
Violet

Sometimes You Die By the Drop

I sit and see four familiar walls. Not my dorm room, but a sun room. The irony is that it is the sun room in my house. I'm back home once more after that long dreadful post about my pantry adventures. But this time it's been different. Now that I understand what triggers me into a binge, I can avoid it. My best way to stay out of the kitchen? Do my homework in here- the sunroom. I have the French doors shut. The whole house is quite except for the slight tick of the fan above me. So peaceful and silent. Too bad the voice in my head can't remain quite too...

During the week I ripped my favorite pair of jeans. In truth they're my favorite simply because they are the only jeans that properly fit me. And so lo and behold, I have worn a hole right through them. Where? Between my massive thighs. Stupid stupid stupid. My thighs are always rubbing, never parting, and haunting my every step. It figures that after I begin to ignore them they leave another more permanent reminder. I have this horrible fear of telling my mum things that will make her see how fat I've become. I tried to explain to her that I just wore them far too much. She pointed that it was just my thigh area it ripped in. When I made the comment that plenty of girls' jeans rip there because hardly anyone has a space between their thighs, she gave me "that look" and said bluntly "Plenty of girls' thighs don't touch...your's do". Sometimes I fear my mom. She's always been the one too look at me with eyes that tell me I'm fat. I won't blame her for my obvious disordered eatings, but I'm sure one of the causes stemmed from her constant watching during my whole life. I don't think there was ever a time that I didn't have to ask for permission for seconds at the dinner table. Not because it was the last piece of something, but to see if mum would allow me to simply have more than what she had served me.

Anyway. So I ripped the jeans. Sad day....but it gets worse. I tried on my pair of "fat jeans" I had left in my closet at home when I went to college. I could barely get them over my ass. Great. I wanted to scream at the whole world. Instead, I did something I haven't done since Freshmen year of high school when my ED was at its worse- I slapped myself...thighs, belly, then face. Hard. It left a mark.

I've come to the point where I can no longer blame a self-made recovery for making me fat. I have long past my previous high weight by about 15 lbs. It's sick and disgusting. From now on, it is all my own fault. I have caused my severe weight gain, my stretch marks, my cellulite. No one else is to blame, just me. It's a depressing feeling, and yet a liberating one. If I want to become someone who can walk down the street and turn heads, wear the prettiest clothes in the store, or disappear between shadows, then I must be the one to work for it. I determine who I will be and what I will look like. 

I'm ready to run. Literally. I have a new plan, and I think it is going to work this time. Even though it kills my knees every time I do it, I am going to start running. I've been searching the internet for a good plan to work my way up to a 5K, then hopefully a 10K. Of course, I can't really even run a mile so it will take a lot of work. I've also decided that I will not eat until after I work out. Usually I don't have time until after class, so that means no breakfast or lunch. If I don't work out at all during the day, then I simply won't eat. I'm going to start studying in the library where there is no food...and bonus: I'll have an easier time getting ready for finals when I'm not so distracted. First thing I'm going to do when I get back to college is throw out all of my food (or just put it on the community table for anyone to take). I'll keep the ceral, but that is totally it.

It's up to me now. I want to be beautiful again.

The Truth About Empty

It has been a very long time and so I must apologize to you all.

I have discovered something. I'm not sure if I like it at all. There is a side of emptiness that no one had told me about before. I sought after empty for so long and embraced it like a long lost friend on the days I felt down the most. Emptiness lifted me up on bubbly clouds and dreams of empty spaces between my thighs.

But there is a dark side, a secret part of emptiness. I am now forever empty. It doesn't matter what I have or have not eaten, I am empty. My stomach is a bottomless pit. I can binge as much as I want and never feel full. I can drown myself in water and coffee, yet I still can have more. I want more. I am empty.

I wished for emptiness and I recieved it. And now I do not want it. My heart is empty. I cannot find the drive to move forward, to run until I pass out, or to sneer at the sight of my untouched food. That emptiness in my stomach has expanded and consumed me like a cancer. I did not heed the warning: be careful what you wish for. It was my own stupidity that drove me to this point.

It started during my visit home. I am not placing blame on that house, on my family, but there is something there that triggers me and suddenly I find myself standing in the pantry shoving as much cookies into my mouth as I can. It is like I am in a trance. I cannot remember how I got there or what I ate, I just find the empty wrappers in my hands, feel the guilty tastes of leftover crumbs on my tongue. I scold myself, hide all the wrappers in a napkin, and then go back for more. What is it about that house that drives me to such a great insanity? What is it about being home that makes the emptiness so unbearable?

I want to give up. But I don't want to give up. I know now that I will always be empty inside. Whether I am 200 pounds or a mere 90 pounds, I will always feel empty, hollow, nothing but a shadow. All I have to do is decide what type of empty I want- which is the lesser of two darknesses? Which should I be tempted and consumed by? Shall I consume food or let it consume me? 

Summer is approaching so quickly and I am afraid. I am not yet ready. Is it wrong to ask for more time? I need more time. I walk and try to ignore my thighs that never leave each other. I try to ignore the way my chest expands and my arms sag. I try to be normal and feel happy about the way I look. But I can't. I avoid the mirror again and again  each day. Trying to find some sort of beauty hidden beneath the layers of chub, cellulite, and double chin. I want to be beautiful.


I think I've made a decision. I just pray that I can carry it through. Food is the enemy- that is a fact that will remain true no matter what I choose. I suppose that I would rather avoid an enemy than allow it to conquer me in a slew of clinking forks and oversized plates. No more. No more food. I have chosen the type of empty I want for myself. Ana beckons and holds out her skeletal hand to me. I take it. I will follow her further into my own emptiness.