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.

Sweet Dreams are Made of These....

So much has happened, my dear lovely skinnys. I don't have much time to write about it this morning, but hopefully I shall indulge you all in a long post to get my adventures up to date. For now, my biggest thinspiration picture of the day, perhaps even the week...or month!

The Perks of Being Incredibly Ill...

I don't know what I had, but I was so sick. Yesterday was the first day I was actually out of my hall/dorm- it was to go to the doctor then pick up some antibiotics.

Symptoms? The first time I actually ate something Sunday night, I ran to the bathroom and shit it out only 15 minutes later. (sorry for the graphic...you probably didn't need to know that whatsoever and I appologize immensely). So I was super dizzy, nearly blacked out once. I've been coughing up endless tons of crap from my lungs. I finally had the decent sense to get my butt to the local clinic on campus after missing 5 days of classes and not coming out of my room except to use the bathroom for nearly a week.

Diagnoses? Severe viral/bacterial infection in my lungs. Constant sinus/nasal drainage. Both ears red and slightly infected. On the verge of phenumonia. Again, I really am stupid for not getting to the doctor sooner. So now I'm on antibiotics that should clear out my lungs and prevent any possible infections, as well as heal whatever is messed up in my colon. I salute thee, modern medicine.

But of course, there really have been perks to being this severely sick. Naturally, I've increased my list of movies watched by at least 15 (what else do you do in bed when sick?). I also had plenty of time to get assignments done and exams studied for. But the best part of being sick? I've pretty much eaten nothing this entire week. The only thing that didn't make me run to the bathroom after finishing it was toast with a little bit of peanut butter (150 calories). So my maximum calories per day ranged from 300 to 450. Not bad at all! I look quite a bit thinner and my collar bones are now much easier to see and my ribs have begun to emerge. I was a bit frightened that I was too sick when my nails turned blue and my eyes became sunken, so I gave in and bought a bunch of Powerade (some zero calories, others regular 200). Obviously I was super dehydrated. My dark circles have nearly disappeared and my nails are beginning to turn back to a purply-pink color. 

I had a dream last night that I was standing in front of a mirror without any clothes on. I sucked in my stomach and suddenly all my ribs and other bones all over my body appeared. But my stomach kept on closing in until it was pressing on my lungs.....    I woke up gasping for breath. Part of me was horrified at my dream, but another larger part of me felt envy- I want those bones!

I can't wait to get back to the gym on Monday. I am so anxious and jittery to get back to working out long and hard with the weights and cardio machines. I don't want to wait until the weekend is over, but I don't want to risk getting sicker again and pushing back working out even further because of it. I've come to realize that I really am addicted to exercise. Both of my parents and another friend commented not to get "too obessed" or "go too far" with the gym thing. Instead of making me worried, it makes me feel a bit of pride and a strong desire to work even harder. Maybe my mind is more twisted than I thought. 

Sorry for the endless post. It just feels like I haven't been on in a really long time. Days seem to drag when all you do is watch movies and sleep for hours on end. I've really missed blogging and all of you. I'm going to take some time today to catch up where you all are at- and I'm looking forward to it.

I hope you're all kicking off a great start to the weekend to have someone sweet to cuddle with during a movie (I need me one of those).

Love, Violet

At Least I'm Not Hungry....

Well, this darn cold won't let go. I'm starting to think that it might be more than just a virus. I sprinted down the hall to the bathroom about 6 times last night and finally got a solid amount of sleep around 8:30am, which only amounted to probably a total of 4 complete hours of sleep. What makes it worse? One of my friends, C, is being a total bitch, claiming I got her sick from when we hung out before I even had any symptoms. She's the only one that hasn't told me to "feel better". Not that I need people to say that or anything, I just don't want her complaining to me that she is sick too. Big fucking deal. Everyone gets sick. I'm not going to hunt down the person that gave this to me and yell at them. Nope. And what makes it worse? I am always taking care of C and her roommate when they get sick, bring them lunch and whatnot. Maybe I'm just pissy when I'm sick...who knows. I just need to feel better and get back to the gym (I think I'm actually addicted to exercise now).

An Apple Should Haven Been the Only Thing I Ate Per Day

Sorry, darlings, that I have not posted for so long. I woke up on Friday and felt like I had been knocked over by a sledge hammer. Every gland in my neck was swollen, I could only hear out of one ear, and my nose was doing a stupid clog-unclog act. All in all, I really felt like total and complete crap. And I have continued to feel like this since then. Except now it has moved to my colon...I race to the toilet every 15 minutes if you catch my drift....and I have a hacking cough that leaves me dizzy and unable to think for a few seconds.

I really hate being sick. I hate feeling my body grow weak and not having any energy to work out (or at least enough common sense not to drag myself to the gym...sometimes I wish I didn't have that common sense). I wouldn't mind so much if I had the stomach flu, at least then I would be losing weight and my profs would be much more sympathetic to my case. And if I had the stomach flu, I wouldn't have the strength to get out of bed and eat something, let alone keep it in my stomach for too long. Nope. No luck there. Instead I have a simple, stupid, draining virus. Nothing I can do about it. I just feel like crap all day, don't have the energy to concentrate on any of my work, but still find the energy to eat something. Hell, I've had enough energy to cook oatmeal and lean pockets two different times each. Oatmeal wasn't so bad, but I'm ready to shoot myself over those lean pockets (for those of you who aren't familiar, lean pockets are a "less fatty" version of hot pockets). I feel like a pig. 

I still feel sick enough not to go to class tomorrow, but I need to get to the gym and get my chapel credits in (I go to a Christian college, so chapel attendance is mandatory...not sure if I really agree with that...it takes the purpose out of worshipping if you're forced to go by the school system). I could just work out, go to chapel, and then not go to the rest of my classes, but someone will probably see me. Plus, I'd need my RA to email my profs this time for proof that I'm still sick and she definitely would not agree with me working out. It's still a possibility to get out my 10-minute dance video- I'm in love with it...I use the video every time I need an extra boost to my workout.

Decisions, decisions. I really just feel like crap now and am behind in so much school work (at least it seems that way). I don't know if it would be worth it to miss class or not. Plus, I have to host a tutoring session and have a book meeting tomorrow night. Too much to do!

Shoot me some luck, darlings. I think I'm going to work up the nerve to weigh myself again towards the end of this week. I'm going to try to limit my intake to 600 calories max, that way I am always burning off all that I eat for an intake of 0 every day. I'm still playing with the idea of eating only 300 on the days I work out just once, but we'll see. I'll figure it out tomorrow, along with my options of whether or not to stay in bed all day again.

Beware the Rant About a Bitch

There's this girl. 

And there's this boy.

The boy, I like.

The girl...she's a fake bitch....

Well the boy, M., is a really good friend of mine and I really had quite a large crush on him for a large portion of this year. I was pretty dang sure he liked me too. But then we went to E's house (the other bitch) and he met E's friend, Am (the one mentioned above). Pretty sure she could tell that M and I had something between us, so she used the only weapon she had against me...she was hospitalized with Ana. Execpt that the damn thing happened 3 years ago (not that I'm saying it isn't a big deal or anything, but it is NOT something you use. Ever.). So anyway, the two kept texting and she always talked about her "problems" and how she wanted to be Ana again and all this shit. Of course, M. is the type of guy who is so sweet and tries to fix everyone's problems for them. Of course, he'd fall for her, the poor little girl with the eating disorder, not the fat nice friend on the side (me). Did I mention she just turned 16 and he is 19? Well, yeah. And believe me, she is not mature...more like she has the maturity level of a 12-year-old (seriously). and not to be mean, but she is much much bigger than I am, and I am rather fat...at least I was moreso at the time....

Ahh! I'm just so pissed off tonight! M said that it "wouldn't work" between him and Am anyway, but it still makes me angry. I don't really like him anymore. And I've promised myself that I will never ever use Ana to make someone feel bad for or like me. It is my secret and mine alone. I probably will never tell him. 

Why is it that the fake, nasty, mean bitches get the sweet and loving guy? I don't understand. I really don't get it and it makes me sad.

Something else that's sad? I like to pretend the guys at the gym glance at me occasionally. I'm pretty sure they never do. But it makes me work harder and feel kind of better about myself (even if I know in the back of my mind that it is not true). 

I hope tomorrow is better. It is a Zumba and abs workout night!

(Today's favorite before-and-after)