Rushes

167.6 lbs. Don't know how I've managed to gain, but I have, so I have to deal with it. As soon as humanly possible. I actually hit 156 pounds earlier this term. Granted, I was sick but still. It was a start. Oh well, it's gone now. So I have to get my act together. Start restricting like the good old days. I don't know what my plan is yet. I suppose the plan is just to toughen the fuck up, eat well (and vegan), and count every calorie meticulously. That's what worked last time, right? I don't even know anymore. I don't remember what it feels like to be thin. Or anything less than bursting out of my old favourite jeans.

My eating schedule is weird because of filming, but I could learn to work around it. It gives me a license to not eat all day, subsist off of an olive here and a diet coke there, but my problem is that I automatically pig out the minute I get home in the evening. Like today: all I consumed during the day was half a sandwich, three crackers, a spoonful of couscous, a slice of watermelon, and a shit ton of caffeine. I wasn't even physically hungry, because I get such a high off shooting days and appetite goes out the window. But then I came home and my resolve flew out of the window. I don't know. Today's been a weird day. Ranging from kind of amazing in some parts (we're making a movie, isn't this cool?) to terrible in others (my dad is interested in someone new. It's been exactly a year since his last relationship ended and in my selfish, sad way, like any child of a broken home, I still don't want him to like anyone besides my mum. I don't want to know about the hot new girl he's after who, might I add, is only seven years older than me.)

We also got the apartment. It's very central and very nice (and very f*cking expensive but we will cross that bridge when we come to it). Though I think it works out to slightly less than what we're paying now, so that's good. I have a job set up for next year now, too, which will make rent less scary an issue and also afford me some nice furniture that I want (an unfurnished flat? A blank canvas!). I mean, technically, everything's going well. I guess when I watched the rushes back I realised I am just so far off where I want to be. I prayed so hard that this weight would be off by now, by the time we started shooting. Everyone is saying I look great on film. I don't know. I looked at myself on the screen and thought I looked more bloated than anyone I know.

One weird thing that happened this week was that our flatmate tried to kill herself, I guess, and Lina and I were involved. Everyone was involved, including her boyfriend, and the RAs after we found that she'd locked herself in her flat and no one had a key. She'd written a suicide note and everything. But she was just sitting in the shower naked and crying. It reminded me of me, before I took the medication, and it scared the shit out of me.

I think the reason I feel bad is that something's missing from this puzzle picture. Everything else is going well. I finished the year on a high. I got a 2:1 overall with a first in my presentation. Blah blah. We're making a film. We're going to live in a beautiful apartment next year. We have - good Lord - friends.

Blah, blah. Still fat.