Day 2

140.0 again this morning, wah wah :( I'm not too fussed about it though, I know what did it - when I got home last night my mum offered me some mac and cheese she'd made for her and her boyfriend and... well, my discipline went straight out the window. It was like 1 o'clock in the morning as well :/. Ahh so 0.2 of a lb isn't that bad, and no one else will be able to see it on me... still, I would've liked to be 139 for going out today :( Just a mental thing you know?

I'm gonna stay positive. Had a big healthy breakfast full of goodness and today in Camden, all I will allow myself will be an iced non-fat mocha frappuccino from Starbucks (96 calories of icy, creamy glory) and cigarettes. And holy diet coke. 

Also, I'm definitely going to be wearing my skinny jeans again, because the weather is not quite up to it today :( Cry cry. I was hoping it would be lovely and hot and sunny, but right now it looks a bit cloudy and cold, which is not what we want... maybe the sun will come out later? Here's hoping.

/EDIT: Aghhh! My resolve seems to crumble whenever I am out with friends. I must do better :( AAh well. Had a lovely day. I bought a wind-up clock necklace, a bluey-grey lacey summer dress that will be perfect for holiday next week, and this super cool cigarette tin that lights and dispenses. 

OK, so I have a little plan in my head for the next few weeks. I'm going to stick to 1500 calories a day, made up of three 500 cal meals. That's what the French do right? They don't snack like us lazy English bastards with our finger food and chocolate bars. They eat at tables three times a day and they ENJOY their meals because they've WAITED for them. So, that is exactly what I shall do. B-500 L-500 D-500. Breakfast 9-11 a.m., lunch 1-3 p.m., and dinner 6-8 p.m. I did a little shop for my French diet. Cheese, veggies, probiotic blueberry yogurt, coleslaw, fruit smoothie, thin sausages and wholemeal bread rolls. Yummy!

When we go to stay by the sea at the end of next week, my meal times might be a little different (ie. brunches instead of separate breakfast and lunch because of waking up late, ice cream replacing meals and very late suppers!) But it should be OK if I stick to 1500 in my head and don't drink too much wine on the beach with my sister. We're planning on smuggling her hip flask and a shitload of cigarettes down there, so we can sneak off to the sea late at night and play music and drink :P Tut tut.

If any of you have had bad Marches, like I have - fear not, tomorrow is the start of a new month. April will be so much better. I promise.

Day 1

So today has been going well so far. I got up late and started work straight away (thanks to my new-found French discipline). So far I have eaten: Apricot cheese-300 3 slices banana malt loaf-200 Butter-100 Vanilla yogurt-120 Goji berries-60 Banana and mango smoothie-100. Right now, I'm off to babysitting :) Earn me some cash! I need money to buy new clothes.

<-- This is what I am wearing today. It's not a very good picture, but you get the idea. Black stretchy skinny jeans, white cotton long-sleeved top under a long black cardigan.  Am feeling in quite a chirpy mood. Tomorrow a bunch of us are going to Camden. I used to go there when I was fourteen or fifteen ALL the time, back when I was skinny, and I thought it was so cool there. It just encompassed everything I wanted to be, and I loved the freedom and diversity of the place; how you were instantly accepted no matter what you looked like. I haven't been there for over a year at least so I'm sure it'll be fun.

I don't know what I'm gonna wear. I really do have a serious shortage of clothes. Probably jeans again and some kind of shirt or top with a cardi. Maybe a blazer if I can dig one out.

Oh and I was 139.8 lbs this morning - out of the 140s, thank fuck. 

My guy friend Ginger (not his real name but close enough) might be coming tomorrow. He was in love with me for about 2 years and I led him on horribly (partly unintentionally, but mostly because I was in a fucked up place and craved the attention). We're still friends but I stopped seeing him after last summer because he kept trying to leap on me. Now I feel kind of bad because he didn't get into uni and basically has no friends. So I'm thinking of inviting him if the others are cool with it. They find him kind of annoying and clingy (as I do sometimes) but I explained that I'd rather see him amongst other people so there's no way he can make any awkward advances on me if we're on our own. Anyway, when I told him we were going up there on Saturday he said that he wanted to take me to this modelling agency that is in the area. I was like 'haha no, they'll turn me away at the door' and he was like 'bullshit. You're gorgeous and you need to realise it. I insist on checking it out with you'. Meh. Whatever. I'll just get to prove him wrong when they laugh in my (fat) face.

/EDIT: 8pm. So I have just put the Swedish oompa loompa to sleep and am sitting in the Swedies' kitchen, their house is so beautiful. People from Sweden have great taste. So the husband (who reminds me of Alex Skarsgard a little, omfg) made us supper after we collected her from the nursery - pesto tagliatelle, steamed veggies and this weird Polish sausage thing that I'd never seen before. Right now I am sitting here with a piece of parmesan, a glass of organic grapefruit juice, a tiny square of dark chocolate and two plums - they have very healthy food here. I had a naughty fridge raid... mostly because he said 'help yourself to anything you like'. Sigh, I wish.

They have no internet here, so I will publish this later at midnight when I will be +£45 oh yes!

Frenchie

Posting twice in one day to make up for neglecting this blog since Monday!

I'm so proud of myself - I got so much work done today! Over 1,000 words on my essay! I haven't been able to write a word since last Thursday so this makes me a very happy bunny :) 

Weight and food wise, however, I'm not feeling so happy... I allowed myself 1700 calories today, but I've just gone over by eating some cheese and crispbread :( I really didn't need it, and now my intake is probably around 1900. That's really not what I want. Far too close to 2,000 for my liking. I need to make a plan of sorts.

I've decided I want to look, dress, behave, and eat like a beautiful refined French woman. Mysterious and delicate with the utmost elegance. I will indulge in small amounts of rich healthy foods and become fabulously slender. I want this to be a lifestyle change, and by no means some fad I won't keep up for longer than a few days or weeks. I don't think I need a personality overhaul, but I'd like to become more elegant for sure. I have quite a sophisticated mind but I want the body and poise to match. Not to mention the wardrobe, and the eating habits.

Sweet Parisian dreams

So it's been a couple of days, a lot's been going on. On Monday night I went to stay the night at my friend Tina's. We had a great time, but I pretty much binged, not going to even try to cover that one up. Comforting Tina seemed to equal buying 2 large pizzas and a big bag of crisps, and proceeding to devour them in front of a chick flick. I had over 2,000 calories that day and it didn't feel good at all. Amazingly, I didn't feel as if I'd gained much weight the next day judging from how flat my stomach looked, but it still made me uneasy that I couldn't weigh myself that morning, and I started making all these panic-y plans to do a juice fast, or a raw food diet, or God forbid start restricting again - just something to wipe out the binge. Luckily I convinced myself that the best and healthiest thing for me, physically and mentally, was to just get back into normal routine. That's what I did.

Then I went straight from her house to meet my sister, and we went back to my dad's. We ended up staying up late again and I ate some Easter eggs and half of this caramelised onion and goats cheese tart with potato salad, which I regretted, especially because there was only about an hour between eating them and falling asleep. The next morning (Wednesday) I came home, only to briefly unpack my stuff, have a piece of toast, get changed and whisk back out of the house to the station. Went to go and meet my other friends in Central, and we lazed around all afternoon and evening in the park until it got properly dark and cold. It stayed light for ages though.

And so, here I am, at home finally. And actually knuckling down to some work. I've been in such a bad headspace about it, especially with my mum being in her weird up and down moods so it's been hard to get stuff done or convince myself I deserve to do well this year. I weighed myself this morning, and I was 140.2 - a little depressing but it could be much worse than a mere 1 lb's weight gain, considering how much I have eaten over the last few days.

Next week my dad and his girlfriend are booking a holiday cottage near the sea, from Friday to the following Monday - so 4 days. He wants me and my sister to come down. I was reluctant for two reasons - one, the obvious weirdness of being on holiday with his girlfriend and how my mum might feel about that; but more importantly, my work. Also, my sister is reluctant because she's a party girl and is worried about missing out on things if she leaves London. I'm sort of coming round to the idea, mostly because there's no guarantee I will work even if I do stay here in London. But also because I think the sea air will do me some good. If my sister goes, I think I will definitely go, because I haven't been out of the city for a year.

But this does pose the obvious question of: should I go batshit with my diet over the next week and try to drop, say, 5 lbs by the time I go away? 

I'm going to continue with what I'm doing, which is basic calorie control, and decreasing cals by 100 for every lb I lose. After all, I don't want to get there, eat myself into a frenzy, and gain it all back. Maybe by some miracle of God I'll make 136 by then (please? please?) But I'm winging it.

More cheerful post, finally.

I have this urge to go swimming in the ocean. Deep and far and away. To float underwater, sun dappling my skin, feet sinking into sand. To feel light and weightless, like the sea is carrying me. To be able to breathe underwater, and let my curiosity carry me to the darkest depths of the earth, as far away from light as it is possible to get. Just to touch the bottom of the world. Then to soar upwards and break the surface and take in fresh salty air.

There's a little bit of summer escapism for you.

Thank you so much, sweet girls, for the comments on my last few miserable posts. I guess I've just been in the shit recently about everything - my weight, my work, my mum, what's going to happen this year - everything, as I say. The hard thing is, all of my fears are very real ones. Any of them could happen. It's not like I can tell myself to buck up because I'm thinking irrationally: I'm not. I could very easily have to stay behind next year if I can't pull through and get the grades I need to go away. I am mostly scared of myself - that if I stay here, I'll just sink into a deep depression and not be able to pull myself out. Even worse, my mum seems to have this fear too, which she constantly reminds me of on a daily basis. It's kind of hard when all you want is someone to just believe in you, and tell you everything's gonna be OK - but all the adults whose beliefs and opinions you put faith in, are simply validating and confirming your worst fears by admitting they're scared too. I've just been feeling very confused and upset and worried over the last week, and now I feel a bit more settled. It's mostly because I called up my dad, and he calmed me down massively. Sometimes you just need that straight-forward paternal voice in your head telling you to chill the fuck out, because things will work out in the end. My own logic wasn't really doing the job all of last week, but my dad sorted me out in 30 minutes.

I met the Swedish couple properly - they are gorgeous. And their kid is so sweet! She's three with the chubbiest cheeks. She looks like a little Swedish angel. I'm going to be charging £6 an hour, and they'll probably want me over there at least once a week, so I'd say that clocks up to around £80-100 a month. Yay for extra money! I know it's not much, but for me it's a lot - I'm pretty broke most of the time, and I have to pay for a lot of stuff myself. So that's great :)

My sister wants me to buy her one of those bralet things. You know, the cropped bodice-type ones that are really fashionable right now. I find the idea of me trying to pull one off hilarious - they are made for waifs with tits, like my sister. Maybe if I was Edie-skinny, I'd be able to wear one under an open shirt, or something... but still. I'd feel self-conscious even then, about having my stomach out or my arms showing... I don't know how people wear these things and feel comfortable. The same applies for people who can wear hot pants with no tights underneath in the middle of March. (Yep, I've seen about 10 people on the streets recently wearing them, and they haven't exactly been the slimmest of people, shall we say.) Camel toes for the win.

There's a Tatler modelling competition on at the moment, that I read about on La Petite Anglaise. I actually pointed my friend Charlie (old readers might remember her from early posts) towards it, because she is perfect model material. She's half an inch shorter than me, but about 20 lbs lighter.

And I am, of course, jealous. She looks exactly how I want to look. I pointed her towards the modelling gig because I thought she genuinely had a good shot, and I know that in her gap year she will probably go in for some sort of modelling work anyway. She got all excited when I sent her it, and was like 'We should go in together, double our chances' etc. Yeah - if I was two stone lighter, maybe. But it just made me realise how ordinary - plain, even - I felt, next to her. Now she's at a different school I haven't had to compare myself to her all the time, but literally, she is exactly what I want to be. And there's no way I'm going to get any kind of modelling job if she can't.

Standard competitive friendships, but the worst kind, when neither party wants to admit they're competing, and there's just this sort of awkward passive aggressive undertone in every conversation about weight or appearance.

And, lastly, I'm going out to see Tina this evening for a coffee and a cig (woo) on her high street. She's really depressed at the moment - maybe even more depressed than me, which is saying something, considering the state I was in all of last week. Poor thing is going through some bad stuff at home, and she's also pretty confused about university herself - whether or not she wants to go. Last night on the phone I said to her 'Yes, it's shit now, but it's not going to be shit forever'. I think I need to remind myself of this. It actually makes logical sense.

OK, that's all folks. Hope you beauties are well, and lapping up the hot weather, if you're this side of the globe.

139.6

Last night was fairly awful. I went for a walk to try to feel better; it worked while I was out, but the minute I was back in the house I felt like shit again. I had a talk with my mum (who, for the record, is back to 'normal' - she's stopped going batshit cray cray on me). She completely understands what I was going through. When she was my age, she was in an almost identical circumstance. She had glandular fever, and they were trying to stop her from going to university. She had issues with her eating too. From what she's described I wouldn't be surprised if it was some mild form of an eating disorder, actually. After taking her A levels (and doing pretty badly) she had to take a year out, and proceeded to get even more ill. When she finally went to uni, they wanted to kick her out because she was still unwell and didn't ever turn up to her lectures. Things improved for her, though. It's just nice to know she went through virtually the same thing as me, even though we're fairly different people.

After we stopped talking, though, my mood just plummeted and I ended up crying myself to sleep. This morning I was back to 139.6 lbs which should make me feel happy, and it does on one hand, but it's still not good enough. My face looks horrible from all the crying, and I'm meant to be meeting my new neighbours as they want me to babysit their kid. A nice Swedish couple who don't have any problems and are very attractive. The woman is pregnant with 2nd child. I do want babysitting work - I need the money - but I wish I wasn't going to meet them the morning after I'd just had a minor breakdown. Oh well. Guess that's what make-up's for, right?

Plan for today: 1600 calories.

Tears

I'm in tears. At 9.30 in the morning, on this beautiful summery day, I am on my bed, feeling absolutely revolting. I do not understand my body. I weighed 141.6 lbs this morning. What the hell did I do yesterday to gain 1.2 lbs?! I didn't even binge! I kept way under 2000 calories, was walking around all afternoon in the hot sun with my friends, and everything I ate was basically very healthy. And it's not my scales going psycho on me - I stepped on them about 10 times just to make sure.

I feel so depressed. I hate gaining after I've binged, but at least I know why I've gained, at least I can own that gain. This is completely ridiculous. And it's not water weight, either, because I'm off my period (that was virtually non-existent and only lasted about 3.5 days) and I am drinking shit loads of water, and as a result peeing like a racehorse. The only thing I can seem to deduce from the past few days' slow creep up into higher numbers is that - fml - my metabolism is slowing down. For whatever reason. Maybe my metabolism was only high because I was really ill? Fuck knows. But a few weeks ago I was at 135, and not being anywhere near that makes me want to die.

The insane, eating disordered part of my brain is screaming, 'FUCK! YOU FAT PIG, DON'T YOU DARE LET THAT AWFUL NUMBER GET A CRACK HIGHER! RESTRICTION, STARTING NOW!' And, yep, I have to fucking ignore it, as always. But I am so tempted right now.

So, 1700 calories for me again today (supposedly 300 cals UNDER my BMR) and if I gain again in the morning, things will be re-assessed.

Yesterday, on the other hand, was absolutely exquisite. I don't know if any of you are in London - or nearby - but the weather was just... it was just heavenly. Normally I hate hot weather. I hate sweating, being on public transport when it's hot, having to wear shorts and skirts and show off my legs, etc. But yesterday was a dream. I went into school for a meeting about "my future" (basic rundown: I'm taking all my exams, because I'm stubborn, but my teachers, whilst willing to support any decision I make, don't seem to think I'll get the grades I want, and are worried I'll damage my health in the process of working towards unrealistic goals). Then I caught up with Caro and Tina. We went to the green and vegged out for about 4 hours in the sun, before doing a bit of window shopping and buying cigs and natural frozen yogurt. Perfect afternoon, if you ask me.

Last thing: I got back my blood test results, and everything that was wrong before hospital (platelets, liver function, etc) is back to normal. Except for my white blood cells (neutrophil) which are still low, but not dangerously so. They are still waiting to see if I can get my tonsils out this holiday, or if they need to do 'other tests' to check out why my WBC have dropped since I've been out of hospital.

Right, that's it. I'm off to sulk. I don't feel like going out today.

Ranty ranty rant

(Warning: Long post that goes into boring ranty detail. Read at your own peril.)

Still at 140. Being at this number is making me really miserable, especially since I was in the 130s at the beginning of this week. Guess I need to start eating less again.

I had my sister over for supper. It was good to see her, as always, and I was thrilled to see she'd dyed her hair back to her natural colour, which is a sort of mousy-auburny brown. She'd been going round with horrific frazzled-looking bleach blonde/orangey hair for weeks so I'm glad she's finally seen sense! We sat on the green and I had (tut tut) a naughty cigarette with her, and a non-fat mocha frappuccino. Those things are God, I swear. They only have about 130 calories but make you feel like you've drunk a litre of chocolate milkshake. Best diet food (drink?) ever.

Then we had some supper with my mum and finally drove her back in the evening. I always feel such an intense mixture of sadness and happiness whenever she comes over. Mainly because I know everyone is treading on eggshells when she's here - she only bothers to come about once or twice a month, and we're so cautious not to fuck it up by causing any accidental arguments (she's very easily provoked by things and when that happens... well, she turns into a bitch, to say the least). So the effect of that, sometimes, is that it feels fake. Like we're all trying to be happy in this bleak situation, and failing at it. I also feel sad because I know it'll be a while until I see her again. She is crap at sticking to things, rarely makes the effort to see my mum and usually I have to travel to see her, not the other way round. She's my fifteen year old sister and sometimes, all I want, is to have her living with me. Like a normal family. Even if we argued every day, at least I would feel like we were part of the same unit. My whole family is scattered... I don't even know if I have one any more.

To make matters worse, my mother is in a really weird mood. Last night when she got back from work she wouldn't stop crying, and kept telling me to go away when I tried to comfort her and ask her what was wrong. All of today, she was bitter and aggressive about everything, made sarcastic comments whenever I was with her, tried to pick fights with me at every opportunity and was generally just very difficult to be around. I understand how upsetting her situation is: the man she was with for 30 years has now gone off and had a baby with someone he hardly knows, and is now living with that woman and my sister, who didn't know any better than to go and live with him in order to spite my mum. Yes, we've both been through a load of shit, and this is just the tip of the ice berg. But I feel like she completely disregards all the good things in her life. She is dating a really nice guy who is nothing like my father; she is working at the moment and earning a bit of money - and she has at least one daughter who will stick by her side no matter what, always be there to talk to her and cheer her up, and who loves her to pieces (that's me, in case you didn't get that).

I feel like a total hypocrite, because I know from first-hand experience that sometimes it doesn't matter if things are going right. If you're depressed, you're depressed, whether it's circumstantial or not. But over the past few days she has taken so much out on me, been so nasty and hurtful towards me for no reason, and made me feel completely unwanted.

Some examples of things she's said to me since yesterday:

Her: What your father has done to this family is appalling. He's corrupting your sister. He probably encouraged her to start smoking as well.

Me: Mum, that's ridiculous, he didn't encourage her to start smoking. He hates that she smokes.

Her: Oh, so you're defending him now? Is that right? Well, why don't you just go and pack your bags and live with him then? I'm sure you'd love that. Oh, and you can become best friends with his girlfriend while you're at it, how about that?

Me: Mum, I really hate the way you're talking to me. If you're upset we can talk about it but please don't take it out on me like this, I don't deserve it.

Her: Stop talking to me in that stupid sanctimonious way. You're not superior to me, stop acting like it.

Her: You never fucking wash up. Why? You live here too, you're an adult, why do I have to do everything? You live in this house too. It's costing me a fortune to rent. And I wouldn't be having to shell out all this money to live here if you didn't live with me.

Me: So you're making me feel guilty for living with you? Thanks. In case you haven't noticed, I'm still a teenager under your primary care, and I'm in full time education. What do you want me to do, support myself?

Her: I just think everything that's happened with you is really doing me in. All the time, it's a drama. First you won't get out of bed because you're depressed, waste me and your father's money by not going into school, then you get ill, now you probably won't be able to take exams, and what will happen then? You'll be living here for another year, lying in bed all the time, you won't get a job... Why is everything in my life so shit? I don't deserve this...

And it goes on, and on, and on. When I ate a handful of dried goji berries as a snack, she told me I should stop eating all day long because I 'didn't want to gain weight, did I?'. When I got into the car to go to the surgery for my blood test results, she told me I was wearing 'far too much make-up' even though I was wearing less than I usually do. After my appointment, when we were near the pharmacy, she said she wanted to go in alone and didn't want me to 'follow' her. When I asked her why, she told me to fuck off and that it was none of my business. When she decided to call her friend on the phone, she came into my bedroom and asked me to shut my door, because she didn't want me to hear what she was saying. When I came downstairs during her phonecall to get a glass of water and my laptop charger, she immediately went upstairs to her room. When I went back up to my room, she took the phone downstairs again. Et cetera.

The list of difficult things she's done and said goes on. I want to mention that my mother is not a total a-hole; she's had a tough time and can get hysterical occasionally, but she is not normally like this with me. Tonight on the way back from dropping off my sister, she literally ranted at me (at full volume) about every topic under the sun that was irritating her - about me, my dad, money, my A levels, my sister - for twenty minutes straight. I had a headache at the end of it. Now she's in her room in some sort of adolescent sulk, and I just feel terribly lonely and sad and dreadful. It's like trying to deal with a totally unreasonable person. Everything I say, she takes it the wrong way and jumps down my throat. If I ask if she's OK, I'm being patronising. If I mention my father, I'm automatically 'on his side', or 'against' her. Paranoia, to the max.

Jesus. Sorry. I had to get that all out. 

I am going to sleep now. I feel so rubbish. I emailed my English teacher everything I had done (about 1500 words of abstract, mish-mash ideas and ground I want to cover in my essay). He sent me one back saying he was extremely pleased I'd got anything done at all. (Secretly expecting me to fail?) He also gave me a list of points to reinforce my essay plan. He said he thinks I will be able to produce a strong final draft by the deadline of April 17th.

More work, now. Art and language and this essay. Coursework galore.

My life is not over

(The picture is totally unrelated to this post. I just thought it was really cool)

I GOT AN OFFER FROM MY TOP UNIVERSITY LAST NIGHT!!! Finally, something to look forward to.

My weight is still shit - 140.2. I really hate this number. It had better not go up anymore. I want to be back in the 130s ASAP. I bought wholemeal pitta bread, low fat hoummous and lots of lettuce, so I am going to have those for lunch. Also some mixed berry muffins that seem fairly innocent. I had one for breakfast with a non fat yogurt, it was delicious. I have been eating around 2000 calories so today I am going to drop to 1800. I think this is sensible if I want to lose weight.

Again, today the weather is astounding, but I have to stay indoors and work :( Maybe this afternoon if I feel like it, I will take one of my poetry books and go and sit in the sun and read. The green looks so beautiful in this light.

Well, another short blast of a post, but it's better than me rambling on for half an hour about nothing! I hope in the next few days I'll have more exciting things to update you on. Ie. finishing my coursework, seeing people, going out a bit more etc. I'm still a recluse at the moment. 

Fuck up

I don't know what is going on with my head at the moment. The idea of coursework, writing, piecing together information, is a notion so ridiculous and removed from me that I cannot even comprehend how I will meet the Thursday afternoon deadline. I can't even write a decent sentence, let alone a 3,000 word essay. I am freaking out. I've also completely neglected my English language work, which I should have a draft for in by Friday. Right. Because that's totally going to happen.

I hate that I had to get ill. I didn't deserve it, and it's fucked everything up for me.

So my weight is up to 140.4. Disgusting. I was crying as I stepped off the scales. I think I'm out of the 140s for good, then it comes back to bite me in the ass. Fuck. I can't believe I was at 135 a few weeks ago.

I think my op is going to be on April 1st. There was some talk about it being before that, but I doubt that will actually be the case. So, by the end of March, my goal is to weigh 134 lbs. MAXIMUM. I hope I can do this.

General grief

All in all, my day was shit. I have failed in all areas. Today started off badly. I had to wake up at the crack of dawn for a blood test at the surgery. It seriously traumatised me for some reason. It didn't even hurt that much, and after all those blood tests in hospital I'm virtually immune to the pain of it. I don't even care about needles any more. But it really upset me and I just started crying uncontrollably in the doctor's office. Starting to think about hospital and hospital beds and pain and IV drips and... it was too much. I walked out with my mum looking like a wreck and clutching my arm even though it didn't hurt one bit.

Then I came home and found that I had no energy all of a sudden. I had some food hoping that would get my brain working and it didn't. I couldn't face my coursework, even walking around felt taxing despite the fact that today was absolutely beautiful. Sunny and warm and a big blue cloudless sky. I didn't do a scrap of work until about 6 this evening, when the caffeine I'd had from about a litre of diet coke finally hit me. Then, I managed to write only two sentences before breaking down and crying.

I called my mother, who was at work, and I told her how frightened I was that I wouldn't get the coursework essay completed by Thursday night. Then we got onto the whole 'Should you really be taking your A levels in this state of health' conversation. That upset me even more. She said I needed to realise there were other options and there was no pressure or expectation for me to take my exams if I didn't feel up to it.

She doesn't understand, not fully, anyway. There is an expectation: my own. I need to take my exams for my own sanity. She doesn't understand how degrading it will feel for me to give up now and have to repeat a year in London. Alternately, she doesn't get how degrading it will feel to expend a ton of energy on taking my exams, and then failing and having to do retakes and a gap year anyway. I do not want to go back to school in September. I either want university, or I want a year of freedom, a job, maybe a bit of travelling and a lot of writing and being with people. I don't want to re-do school. The thought of it depresses me more than words can say.

So... I didn't get any work done today, which leaves me with 2.5 days to write 3000 words. Fuck my actual life.

Oh, and fuck it even more, because I binged. That's right. I'm a big fat failure who can't make herself work and can't even stick to her already ridiculously large calorie allowance for the day. I genuinely had finished eating by 7 and I was thinking, work didn't happen today, but at least I'll have the small victory of waking up thinner. But no. I go and stuff myself with an extra 1000 calories worth of food. Because I really needed that, at 10 pm right before I'm supposed to sleep.

Idiot.

I'm sorry. I just hate myself so much right now. I'll probably weigh 140 or something ghastly tomorrow morning. Should I even look on the scales? No, it will just depress me further, but I'll do it anyway. I fucked it. How can I guarantee I'll find work easier tomorrow? I can't. Can I guarantee making it through this summer? I can't stand the unpredictability of things.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Sorry for being so depressing and fat. I'll try to do better.

I love you all. Don't know what I would do without you girls. x

What I want

What I want...

Sometimes, I want to be grounded. I want to eat well, stay away from junk food, exercise, and be healthy. I want a nice stable social life, good grades, a good work ethic, a solid and wholesome relationship with my body, maybe a boyfriend or a girlfriend, and a warm winter jacket.

But then there are these other times, where all I want to do is wreck myself. Get drunk and smash things up. Take out my rage. Go around town in ripped tights smoking myself silly. Kissing people, leading them on, but never letting anyone get too close; playing the game. I want to starve and starve and have my bones sticking out. I want to be dizzy from morning to night. I want to live on lollipops and cigarettes, and diet coke. I want to mess everything up for myself because I don't deserve any of it and nothing is real anyway, so what's the point.

I want to be the skinny girl with a ridiculous metabolism. I want a BMI of 18.5, with the ability to eat whatever I want without putting on a pound. I want other girls to look at me ask 'where does she put it?' - I want guys to look at me and think, 'finally, a chick who isn't on some stupid diet.' I want to be able to roll my eyes at what I once was.

But other times, all I want is to be a pixie like Edie, with the grace of a long-limbed spider and the appetite of a sylph. I want boy short hair and big luscious eyes you could drown in. I want to be a fascinating creature who never eats and never sleeps and is unbreakable, yet so, so fragile.

I'm so confused.

2319

Yesterday, I ate 2319 calories. Go ahead and make your faces of revolt. But what I do not understand is, a few months ago, this quantity of food would have made me gain 3 lbs. Possibly 4. This morning, I'm back at 138.6. Granted, it's a gain, but a miniscule one compared to what I was expecting. Welcome back, child's metabolism.

Work is... not going well, at all :/ I can't seem to knuckle down even though I only have 4 more days to complete two sets of English coursework. What is wrong with me? I am just eating and eating and procrastinating and getting nowhere. My aim for today is to eat 1900 calories, pick out 6 poems from each anthology that refer to the transcendent vs. the mundane, and then make a list of analytical points for each poem with reference to appropriate lines. Then, tomorrow I should have a good base to work with, and I can get cracking on the novel (which I still haven't finished reading yet... I am a terrible student.)

I picked the title, by the way. Transcendence from the mundane... sound familiar?

:P Oh also, I found out that the lit essay is only 3,000 words, not 6,000. My bad. Makes things a tad more manageable...   

So, last night, and I don't know what on earth possessed me, but I put a streak of colour in my hair. I must have been way more manic than I remember, because when I was walking around at 6pm, after I'd bought a diet coke and flitted round the few shops that were still open, I was suddenly drawn in by the bright neon lights of a pharmacy, and faced with an inexplicable urge to buy hair dye. (NB: I have never dyed my hair, or any part of my hair, in my life. I am such a fail teenager. I also do not have any piercings, have not had sex with a boy, haven't any tattoos, and have never taken club drugs. Virtually the opposite of my younger sister, who is light-years ahead of me in all above respects.)

I swanned into the shop in a trance and decided that I would put an electric blue streak in my hair. My logic was, 'it would look kind of cool, and I'm not at school so no one can tell me off.' I know, I'm such a rebel...

7pm found me leaning over a sink with a line of bleach blonde in my hair. I didn't get round to putting the blue in after I'd pre-lightened it (I have very dark, almost black hair) because my mum came home. My mum actually likes it. How awful is that? I try to commit a rebellious act and my mother approves? Cry. But I do find this rather amusing. I'm saving the blue to put in another time. Maybe when I get bored of the blonde.

Sat morning

So, at long last my weight has settled at 138.0 lbs, which, whilst not perfect, is a damn lot better than 138.6. Bring on 137! It's also 'that' time of the month. Bleh. Luckily I never bloat or gain weight on my period, but it just makes me feel crap mood-wise. Before today, I hadn't actually got it for about two months. Maybe even more - long before I went into hospital. Not that I missed it. I can't wait till I get down to the 126-130 lb range, where (strangely) my periods are virtually non-existant. I really don't need them buggering my life up this summer, either.

OK well this is a very boring post. Today I plan to work, work, work. I hate my life at the moment. But when it's over on Friday I'll be able to go out to see friends again. 

Misery is a butterfly

I'm being a terrible blogger at the moment. I have basically nothing to update you beautiful people on, and I have hardly caught up on anyone's blogs D: I'm sorry! I do read most of your posts though, even if I'm not commenting. Sometimes I'm just not in the right mindset to give anyone advice or cheer them up :(

I sound depressed... I'm not really, just anxious. I have a really big coursework deadline for next Thursday: my English literature essay, which must clock up 6000 words. Yikes. I also have to do half my English language coursework, and make a start on my new art book. My interview went well and I think I stand a good chance at being offered, but I'm terrified I won't get the grades, and will have to spend the next year in London feeling like a big fat failure. I will not be able to hack it. Life will just become a black hole. I know it will. University will be my one escape.

I'm bored with this weight, too. 138-139 lbs is not a bad weight to stabilise at in my books, but it's really starting to piss me off. I've been 138.something for a week now. I'd like to at least see a new number. And all I'd need to do is just drop 100 calories or so, and I'd see some changes, but honestly, I'm getting way too used to these high intakes. I feel like it can't be real, like one day I'll wake up and it'll all have been a trick... I will have put on 5 pounds overnight like a huge slap in the face.

I have way too many fears at the moment. But there is one good thing looming on the horizon, which is surgery. It may be feasible to have my tonsils out a week on Monday, which would mean that all the nasty illness/hospital/pain stuff will be out the way by the end of Easter. I am terrified, of pain and of being back in hospital, but at the same time I'm secretly thrilled sick at all the weight I'm going to lose. I wish I wasn't. It makes me feel like my ED still has a grip on me. But I can't help it. Besides the inevitable weight loss, I'm also looking forward to being able to get on with my life without worrying that I'll have an acute attack of tonsillitis at any random moment. It really has been miserable; I will be so much happier once they are out. Imagine having to go through that at uni!

Food, food, food... I love being able to eat this much, and I love that my metabolism is back to normal. But, oh how I'm scared at how long it'll take to get this back after surgery. I won't be able to snap back into it. Scrupulous building-up of calories will have to ensue. 50 cals extra each day. Boring boring boring. I hate how difficult this has to be.

I'm going to crawl into bed. Knackered. Up tomorrow morning to begin work on The Essay Of Death. x

Brand shiny new metabolism machine

Thank you for the good luck messages, You girls are so lovely, honestly. Well, the interview went well! (I think!) We got to do a workshop before, which I was seriously thankful for, because it got all of my horrible adrenaline jitters out the window. The task was to interpret and re-enact an abstract dialogue from a play. I haven't acted in years, let alone in front of other people (and lecturers) so it was totally nerve wracking. But I did it, and everyone loved our piece. It was such a confidence boost that I didn't run out crying or something pathetic like that. Afterwards, the interview went pretty smoothly. It was a nice day :)

Oh and if I haven't said before, the course is a writing and directing course for theatre, film and television, but it has a performance element to it. Theatre has somewhat been my 'blind spot', and I've been much more into my script-writing and filmmaking. So I'm intrigued and excited at the prospect of learning about directing productions for the stage, and learning how to write play scripts too. I want to broaden my horizons and find out something I don't know.

This is a course I really, REALLY want to get on. If I do get a place (and the grades to go there) I will be absolutely over the moon. But I need to go and see more theatre! I have no excuse not to go, living in London.

So... food. What this blog is supposed to be about. My metabolism is back up to scratch... like, exactly where it's supposed to be. I can't believe it. Yesterday morning, I weighed 138.4 before I left to get the train. I had about 2,000 calories yesterday (on my feet all afternoon, needed the energy, ended up eating more when I got home etc). This morning, after all that frigging food, I weighed... ta-da, 138.4 lbs! I can't believe it. I could genuinely keep eating this amount and stay at this weight, for... like... ever. The good news is, I'll be able to lose on 1500-1800 now. And no one (eg. therapists) can tell me off for not eating enough. I am eating plenty.

Well, I'm over to my sister's this afternoon for supper and to stay the night ,

PS. I miss smoking.

Pre-interview stress

I have my interview tomorrow and I can't tell you how scared I am. It's like... the rest of my life rests on this one day and how well I do. I know that's not entirely true, but that's how it is in my mind. I was 138.6 lbs this morning, so only a .2 of a lb down from yesterday, but hell it's better than gaining. And I'm thinking of this as 'maintaining' rather than a plateau. I have all the time in the world to lose weight, and I'll probably drop about 5 lbs straight after my surgery anyway. Nothing to worry about. I'm not gonna make 136 for tomorrow but it's not a big deal to me right now.

I'm managing to wean myself off the sweets though which is good. I'm mostly eating very healthy foods. Most of my carbs are whole grain or whole wheat, I'm having lots of lean protein (chicken, tuna), and snacking on fresh and dried fruit, raw vegan bars, rice cakes, and fat free yogurt. I made the best stir fry last night - red lentils, mixed stir fry veg, green beans, beansprouts, spring onions and hoi sin sauce. It was fucking beautiful you should have seen it.

This is just a short post as I've got a bit more work to do, and then I'm going for a long walk to clear my head, de-stress before tomorrow, and enjoy the weather. Hope you are all well girls.

Hallelujah

So yesterday was a lot of fun, but fuck me, I ate a lot! Like, picture cake, on top of more cake, on top of more cake, and then fish and chips... seriously, why does my father insist on buying every single type of cake there is?! I had a normal breakfast, then got lunch with Charlie (fruit smoothies, vegan Nakd bars and dried fruit). Then we turned up and all the cousins were there, so we had 'nibbles' (crisps, nuts etc). I didn't have too many because I was already full from lunch, but then me and Charlie shared a slice of Victoria sponge, 2 slices of coffee cake, and a slice of cherry and almond cake. Then later when the cousins cleared out and I put Charlie on a bus home, my sister came back and we all got fish and chips. Ooft. Luckily my sister and I shared a portion, and we left most of the chips. Plus neither of us like cod so we got a saveloy instead (no fatty batter, less calories). I was so bloated afterwards though. Jesus. Anyway, the whole day came to about 1700 - I worked it out. I was expecting to be at least 140 lbs this morning, and I woke up feeling full of dread for the number I would see on the scales. But (hallelujah) by some miracle of God, all that food only made me gain .4 of a lb, putting me at 138.8 lbs.

You know what this means? IT MEANS MY METABOLISM IS BACK UP TO SCRATCH.

A few months ago, this amount would have made me gain about 3 lbs. Minimum. So, I'm taking advantage of this, and I'm going to aim to eat 1500 calories today. Yes, intentionally. If I can manage it without overeating, undereating, or gaining, then I will be a very happy bunny.

Most of the sweets in my house are gone, which means I can finally eat healthily. I'm excited :) I can't believe I could actually start eating a 'normal' amount and not put on weight. It's like a dream come true. I am going to make a big noodle and veg stir-fry for dinner and NOT feel guilty about it :)

The good old days

138.4 this morning. My weight is just creeping up and up? I hate it. I'm going to meet Charlie in an hour, then we'll go to my dad's for tea and to see the baby :) I think my cousins might be there too so it'll be a full house! There will be cake. Yikes. I guess I will just have to estimate calories.

I found some old food diaries from a few years ago and I can't believe how high my metabolism was back then. I used to lose weight on 1800 calories a day! Insane. I wish I could build back up to that level.

My short-term goal right now is to be back at 136 lbs by my interview on Wednesday. My other goal is to be 133 lbs by the time I have my surgery. I know it sounds stupid, to be a certain weight by the time I go into hospital, but I have my reasoning for it. After my tonsillectomy, I won't be able to eat solid food for up to 10 days, which means - you guessed it - weight loss. It'll probably plummet me into the 120s, but that's OK, because it allows for some 'rebound' weight gain once I start eating normally again. Then, hopefully, even if I do gain weight, I won't go any higher than my 130 lb goal. After that, I will maintain until the summer, when I will probably end up doing some kind of faddy weight-loss diet (like Special K challenge) for holiday bikini times :) But, as always, no going under 1000 calories intentionally.

And wow, just noticed... 20 followers. Where did you all come from?? Please do comment. Comments make me happy :)

Things are always better in the morning

Don't you love that naive sort of serenity that washes over you when you're coming out of sleep? Naturally, of course - you don't feel serene if an alarm wakes you up, or if someone shouts at you to get out of bed. But this morning, I woke up in my sheets, with a cold pure light filtering into my room through the blinds, and I was perfectly content, just for a second.

Stepped on the scales, shattered the perfect illusion. I'm back up to 138 lbs. Cry.

But, I made a plan last night (of sorts). I'm going to take advantage of the metabolism boost of last night's mini-binge, and set myself up a little weight loss schedule. 40-60 mins exercise every day (dancing, calisthenics, yoga, crunches etc) and I am also aiming to 'get out of the house' every day for a minimum of half an hour - even if it's just walking round the block a few times. I think exercise will help to regulate my weight and stop it from erratically going up if I eat a few calories over what i was supposed to. Secondly, I'm going to try to hit a solid 1200 kcal every day, at least until I'm back under 136. Might as well, seeing as yesterday's total clocked up 1700 kcal +... ew. Also - two weeks on, my stomach is now completely back to normal. (I think - I don't want to jinx it). About time to... hallelujah. It's amazing how much taking a normal shit can cheer you up. (I still don't think 138 lbs is my actual weight... I had 3 days' worth of food sitting inside me. Yum.)

I have to start my English literature coursework today, and then tomorrow I'm going to see my dad and sisters with Charlie :) She's never met my dad and she has a present for the baby, so it should be a nice day. I will try to estimate everything I eat as accurately as I can.

Things are happening :) Social things! Just seeing my friends for a few hours yesterday was the nicest thing that's happened to me in the last 3 weeks. The small things, huh? Bring on 130.

Fuck.

Well, today was a complete write-off. Food wise, I mean. Seeing my friends was so, so great. Charlie has a new boyfriend. He's kind of awkward but seems like a nice guy (more decent than the last one, at any rate). They kept kissing in front of us. Tina dyed her hair red. Seemed like a lot had changed but I couldn't keep thinking that it was all only an illusion, me being there with them, us all hanging out. It was like I knew it was going to end soon, so I preserved every microscopic detail in my head. To treasure until the next time I'm allowed out of this 2D world I've built in my head. The cut-out paper bedroom I've been living in.

Everything was all fine and dandy until I got home and realised how bloated I was. I didn't understand. I'd thought my stomach looked acceptable - flat, even - before I'd left the house. I put it down to the diet coke I had and lay down for a while, waiting for it to go away. It didn't.

Then I went to the bathroom to look in the mirror, and my stomach was just... swollen. Like, the way it looks after a binge. I realised this was because I've been stopped up for 3 days and haven't been able to 'go' as it were since I had that bug and was on the toilet every other hour. Rebound constipation - gotta love it. So that fucking depressed me. So I went to go and drink a load of water, which only ended up making me pee like a race horse.

Here, we get to the bad bit. At 7 pm I stepped on the scales and saw 141.8 flash up at me. I nearly had a motherfucking heart attack. I mean, WHAT. THE. FUCK? I was 136.6 this morning! How is this happening?

Then I started hearing the voice of that woman from the eating disorders centre in my head, saying I wasn't eating enough. So I went downstairs and, to add insult to injury, promptly gorged on a piece of toast with butter, 4 pieces of orange chocolate, 3 mini chocolate caramel eggs, a handful of sweets, and a tablespoon of peanut butter. Great work, Gabby. You can wave bye-bye to a good intake of 1,200 calories, and say hello to 1,600, your new, revolting, best friend.

...Why do I even bother doing it to myself? Seriously. I thought I was OVER the bingeing thing. I thought this was all old news. And the part that really sucks? I will probably be 139 lbs in the morning, even though it wasn't a proper bloody binge. I watch as all my hard work goes unravelled. Yawn. This story never ends. It's on freak repeat mode.

And, one more thing. Why do I feel the need to ruin a perfectly good day by fucking up like this? Maybe I feel like I didn't deserve to be this happy, I don't know. And now all I want to do is starve, starve, starve. But I can't. I have to be good. I have to sit in my disastrously fat body all weekend and pretend I'm OK with it. I can't take a bunch of laxatives like I normally would. I can't fast until Monday. I have to carry on, chugging away, eating machine, nah nah nah. Fuck this.

PLAN:

-1000-1500 kcal a day (if you have a slightly higher day, try to balance it with a slightly lower day afterwards)

-40 min workout every day

It's all I can do, until I reach 130. Excuse me while I go away and cry myself to sleep.

Lucid, at last-?

Just a quick update as I have to go and get dressed -

-I went to the eating disorders centre for my appointment. The psychotherapist I talked to was genuinely one of the loveliest women. She made me feel so comfortable and safe and we were also able to have a good conversation about things. I'm half way through an assessment with her, and I'm going back for another session at the beginning of April to finish. (It's a long, protracted process with the NHS).

-I decided, after the meeting, to change my goals a little bit. When I told her how much I'd been eating, she said it wasn't nearly enough for someone my height. I already knew this, of course, but hearing someone else - a professional - putting it into context for me, kind of changed my perspective a little. So I'm settled on 130-133 lbs as a 'goal weight range', and my calorie allowance is going to be less strict from now on: 1000-1500 calories. This will give me the scope to eat a bit more on days where I'm seeing people (like going over to my dad's for dinner), and then to follow it up with a slightly lower day so I balance out and don't feel guilty. I'm going to take my time. As long as I stay in the 130s, I'm happy for now.

-I have to drop some money into school and my mum went into the gallery for work today, so she couldn't do it. So, I am going to be dropping it in myself (and using public transport for the first time in a month) - which is a little nerve-wracking but also very exciting, because I'm going to see some of my friends for the first time since hospital! Eek!

I shall write a proper post later, but right now I must go and hop into my bath :)

So today has been a little whack. I managed to get all my artwork sent off, and I was satisfied (not pleased, satisfied) with what I completed. I finished the essay and did 2 more studies, which I feel was a bit more substantial than what I was going to send in pre-extension. Happy on the art front.

However, then I got a text from the CAMHS eating disorders team. So to recap, before Christmas I went to an NHS psychiatrist about coming off Citalopram. She basically sussed out I had a lot of issues with food and referred me to an outpatient eating disorders clinic. As I'm a legal adult and not about to drop dead from starvation, the process took rather a long time as I was placed on a NHS slush pile lengthy waiting list. I was told they would get in touch with me in January, and it's now March, so the text I received caught me off guard. They told me I needed to ring up and confirm an appointment they could offer tomorrow morning.

I don't want to see anyone and I don't think I'm sick enough to see anyone.
Ugh. 

Sometimes I honestly feel like I'm battling with my body more than I battle with my emotionally derailed brain. 136 lbs. Back to square fucking one. It's shit like this that makes me want to return to old behaviours.

11 more pounds? If you say so

Thanks 'Weight Loss Resources'! 125 lbs it is then.

They didn't consider what kind of a message this could send out to younger, perhaps more naive readers. Idiots.

On the plus side, my weight was 135.4 this morning. Going down, slowly but surely. 

I miss going into coffee shops with my friends and having a cigarette outside afterwards. I miss long chats, and writing and laughing. I miss winding down at the end of the week with a drink and people I care about. I miss walking around and it not tiring me out.

I'm trying to write this art essay and I'm just terrified I won't be able to get all my work done by the Tuesday deadline. My 'work' brain has been dormant for almost an entire month. Suddenly trying to get it back in gear is proving to be exponentially difficult. I'm finding it hard to string sentences together and concentrate on anything I'm writing. All I want to do is curl up in bed with a film or just go to sleep. I'm bored and unhappy and stressed all at the same time.

Sorry, this is such a depressing post. But I feel so terrible at the moment. Weighed and I'm still at 136.6 lbs.

Intake: 1100 cals

A few clarifications

I really do give up trying to call this recovery. I think it's counterproductive and isn't doing me any favours. When I started 'recovery', I wasn't setting out to drop weight like this. Of course I still wanted to, but a big part of it was learning to feel comfortable and happy and the weight I was at because I thought I'd stay there forever without being able to turn to starvation. However, now I know I can drop weight and still eat, I feel like I can't possibly call myself 'someone in recovery from an eating disorder'. I feel like I'm a cheat, having one foot in each pool. I honestly don't believe you can lose weight with a totally healthy mindset ever again once you've had an ED. Perhaps years and years afterwards, but not 3 months after you've decided to recover. 'Partial' recovery is not an option.

So, without further ado, I am going clarify a few essential truths, about this blog and about me.

I am *not* in recovery. I need to stop lying to myself about this. I will recover when I feel comfortable and steady enough with my weight that I can stop counting calories, and looking at the scale, and forming dysfunctional ideas about how numbers equate to happiness and freedom.

And whether or not my current eating habits are disordered, my main interest in this blog is to lose weight and feel happier (and healthier). I may not be going about it in a completely 'normal' way - but this is as normal as I can muster right now, and it's a lot less dangerous than the way I was going before.

If you're trying to recover and for any reason find this triggering (and no longer want to read this blog), you're welcome to step away now. This is the way my head is at the moment, and there's not much I can do about it I'm afraid.

So, *breather* all that having been said - I stepped on the scales this morning, and I weighed 136.6. I have not been this weight since I was 15. Things appear to be progressing.

138.0 lbs. Still. Plateau? Fuck. I know I said I'd be OK with maintaining this weight for a while, but that was then. This is now.

It's ok. Healthy foods won't make me feel guilty, and maybe if I keep telling myself that food is OK as long as it's not sugary sweet crap, I'll start to believe it.