Evening, world

Feeling soooo mellow right now. Last night it was Bash's 18th birthday and I almost didn't go out because I woke up at 4pm and felt so zonked. I skipped the dinner, but irony was I turned up to her house for the 'afterparty' later, and ended up eating a shitload of food anyway... kind of counterproductive :P Then today we just got stoned and lay around her room all day watching TV and talking shit, oh and she made me food. Lots and lots and lots of food. Homemade garlic & chilli refried beans with pitta, hoummous, guacamole and salsa... yogurt... croissant... leftover chocolate cookies and fucking CHEESECAKE. Then her friend Jon, who she goes on about all the time but whom I've never met until now (he's awesome) came over and we picked up again and got even more stoned. Sooo stoned. But now I'm in my own house just sort of chilling and drinking diet coke and coming down, and trying not to binge anymore. Munchies are a more acceptable form of bingeing I think, but eating at 9pm just because you're no longer around others and don't know what to do with yourself, is just tragic. So I'm going to try to curtail my consumption now before I gain 100 million pounds this summer.

I need to go to bed before 2am tonight, wake up at a reasonable hour, and get myself back into some sort of normal non-nocturnal schedule for a while. I also need to jump back on the seemingly very elusive losing-weight wagon, which I currently am not able to stay on for longer than 2 or 3 days before I fuck up. I think it's the eating at night which really screws up my system. I can't (tmi) shit at normal times, and I end up bloated and feeling disgusting at 5pm, not to mention my skin has only JUST recovered from my study-leave breakout, and I don't want it to revert to looking like crap all over again. Lastly, I need to stop chain smoking, which I have been doing every day for the past week, pretty much. I've gone from smoking 2-3 a day to 10 a day and it's making me feel retardedly dependent, which I do not like. So from now on, until I'm off to the US in mid-July, I think I need to set down a few ground rules. Last-ditch attempts to lose 15 lbs in under 3 weeks are usually unsuccessful but I want to make it happen. I am not happy being closer to 145 than 140, and currently that's where I sit, so things have to change.

Now that I've sussed out what my summer is going to be consisting of, I feel fairly qualified to write up a new '60 kilos or less by July 15' plan (honestly, I'd like to see 58, but that seems a little unfeasible at this point. So for now it's 60 or less).

-No eating of food between the hours of 8pm and 8am. Non-fattening alcohol may be consumed during these hours however, ie. vodka with tonic or diet coke, versus wine, beer or creamy liqueurs.
-No more than 1 pack of cigarettes a week, and at least 1 day off smoking per week
-1,000 calorie limit per day, but try to stay as far under this as possible, and alcohol calories do count.
-Curtail diet coke addiction (again)
-Don't eat more than twice a day, and try to keep a diet of around 75% liquids. (eg. homemade soy frappuccinos, orange juice, cocktails, smoothie and of course shitloads of water)
-As for food - go for healthy and light, eg. vegetable sushi; wholegrain crisps; summer soups; fresh fruit and veg; yogurts etc.

The aim is to fit into this pair of shorts Charlie gave me a few months ago. I'd really like to take them to the US seeing as I never have any money, and it would save me shorts shopping... aha... but they're too small for me. I can't actually do them up, although they do fit over my huge ass, which is quite a miracle let me tell you. I reckon it would take about 10 lbs to fit them comfortably so that's pretty much my goal.

Hope you are all OK and not going too crazy now it's the summer :D

Monday night antics

Well, as always I've had a crazy past few days. Yesterday it was my leavers' 'ball' and I'm still waiting for the photos to be put up, so I can show you all a picture of my dress!! I got a ton of compliments and spoke to some girls that I always thought really hated me - this one girl who was in my English class, Lea we'll call her, who is in 'that' group at school, the group who are notorious for being slutty, giving dirty looks and just generally making other peoples' lives miserable, actually came up to me and told me how worried she was after they found out I was in hospital, and 'massive kudos' to me for taking my exams... needless to say I was blown away, but we ended up having a really good chat and a smoke outside the venue, and it turns out she is actually a decent person. I kind of feel bad for having made assumptions, but she was always one of those people I thought had it in for me - guess that was just my high school paranoia.

Some of my teachers were there which was hilarious because most of them were more drunk than us and a few of them were sitting outside the venue having smokes with us... gotta love post-A level teacher-and-student bonding.  

And ohhh my could you feel the tension between Charlie and Alfie. This was the first time they'd seen each other in months, and it was exactly as everyone had cracked it up to be. Alfie, having just finished exams, pretty much wanted to be a free bird and have fun but Charlie had him on a very short leash all night. Hugging him, kissing him every second he turned away from her, hounding him all night long, it was quite embarrassing to watch. And every time we (me and Alfie) got a moment to talk or laugh about something, I could feel Charlie's paranoid eyes boring in the back of my skull, so that wasn't great. At around 1am we cleared off to someone's house, about 9 of us, and I think Alfie was planning on shaking Charlie off but she kept questioning me as to where we were going, and because she is, at the end of the day, my best friend, I couldn't just ditch her, so I told her she could come along. 

One of Alfie's main criticisms of Charlie is, indubitably, how neurotic she is. How she can never just chill the fuck out. Now I love this chick to pieces but she can NOT chill the FUCK OUT. Ever. We walk all the way from the venue to this guy's house, right, at around 2 in the morning. Like a group of us, me, Alfie, Zara, Charlie, Bash, another guy and another girl, so it's not like we're an easy target for any creepy night-time molesters. The whole walk, she's pacing way ahead of us, practically hyperventilating, and Alfie's just rolling his eyes, muttering that she needs to cool down before she gives herself an aneurism.

When we actually get there, and everyone starts rolling and smoking pot, she just gets completely tense and sits away from everyone else, looking absolutely miserable. Literally, I tried talking to her about ten times and she just went 'I'm fine' in this really false breezy voice. There was nothing I could do. Then at about 4am she stormed out of the house and Alfie had to run after her, it was so uncool, and then Zara followed because she's friends with Alfie, and everyone else, despite wanting to join in with the couple's dramarama, was ushered back inside. About half an hour later Charlie came back with Alfie looking slightly happier, and according to Zara, she had to be reassured about ten times over that Alfie didn't 'hate her' before she decided not to go off on her own and find a night bus.

Eventually we put her on a bus home, when we all left around 5am. She clung to Alfie all the way to the bus stop like I used to cling to my dad in a foreign country... it was ridiculous. Then me and Zara and Alfie all washed up in Central for 6am greasy hangover breakfast (ughhh) and were back at mine about half an hour before my mum had to wake up for work. Me and Alfie definitely had a 'moment', kind of when I was putting out duvets for him to sleep on in my attic, and he was like 'come sleep here' and I almost did, but they had to wake up shit early for Zara to go to the airport, and I kind of wanted to sleep until 2pm (which indeed I did!). When I woke up the house was empty and I felt vaguely happy yet sad at the same time and sort of fragmented. Like nothing from the night before had actually happened, and I had this weird conception that Alfie and Charlie were still really happy together, or something. Then 10 minutes after I woke up and came out of this strange half-sleep-paranoia-limbo, I got a text from Alfie being like 'Thank you so much for letting us crash at yours, I wanted to say hi in the morning but you were asleep and I didn't want to disturb you, but I really enjoyed seeing you last night and we have to hang out again soon when I'm not so sleep deprived and tied up in... well, you know, stuff'. 

Paralytic

Needless to say the past couple of days have been a bit crazy. On Friday I went up to North London with Caro and Zara; Zara left early and so me and Caro had good hanging out times in the markets, which we hadn't done in a while. I took two psephys on that day and they kept me from feeling hungry until the effects wore off around 9pm, when Caro dissipated and I went to see Charlie. Now, you know we haven't seen Charlie in months and months. She was looking very slim still, in these tight purple jeans, and had cut off her long dark hair, to reach her shoulders. First time in my life I've had the longer hair out of the two of us. We spent the evening catching up, finally getting drunk in Central, a bottle of vodka between us, several packs of menthols and a box of double chocolate cookies. We discussed things. On one hand I have her telling me she's crazy about Alfie, that she knows she hasn't been the greatest girlfriend over the past few months, but that she's determined to fix things between them this summer, and is hoping things go back to normal very quickly. On the other hand I have Alfie telling me she's fucked it, that she has pushed things too far with him and that he's going to 'have the talk' with her (ie. end things) next week the minute his exams finish. Now here I am, close with both of them, just recently being able to rekindle things with her and unwilling to sabotage that, but, equally, having this lovely boy come into my life at a kind of pivotal point, and for the next few weeks all I can do is hold my breath, and wait for this to play out, and see what happens, and play no part. It's hard looking out for both people at once, sometimes. But at the same time, I wouldn't sacrifice my relationship with either for the other, if that makes sense.

Last night I picked up on the animosity emanating from Zara towards Charlie. Zara's first priority is Alfie - as I've mentioned before, they've been crazy tight for years and Zara hasn't been too happy with the way Charlie's been treating him. She ushered me away in the hotel we were at, a strange big place with lots of black sofas and cream walls and chandeliers, the throb of the party we were attending becoming increasingly distant... her hand grabbed mine and we swerved into an elevator, being taken to another floor: a more commodious space than the one we'd been occupying, but empty, except for tables and stacked chairs. At this point I was very sober and unhappy about several things, one of which was the fact that I hadn't been served, despite presenting a legit ID at the bar in Tina's room, and feeling as if I wasn't going to get a drink all night. Zara, clutching both my hands, told me how much Alfie cared for me and how he feared he would lose me to Charlie; that if they broke up I'd stop talking to him altogether in favour of a rekindled relationship with my old friend. I said, I'm not the sort of girl who fucks off. I stick around. I'm in for the long haul. I pressed these words into her hand and asked her to tell him, from me, that I wasn't going anywhere. She nodded and hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, and we returned to the party.

Not eating all day was a very bad idea. I'd woken up mid afternoon, a result of my late return home on Friday night, and had about an hour to scrape together an outfit and wash, before I had to be out of the door at 5 to scoop up Eliza and travel with her to the party. Later, this bit me in the butt. I got several people to buy me drinks, most of which were fairly weak, and as the adolescent invincibility mindset always goes, I thought I'd be absolutely fine. I talked manically to a whole bunch of people; someone dropped hot cigarette ash on my arm, burning me, but I found that hilarious, and was back on the dance floor in 10 seconds flat. But things moved from bad to worse when I was taken to the bathroom and laid down on my side, and despite initially wondering why the hell I was there, found myself unable to speak properly, and soon after, throwing back up everything I'd drunk at the party, a gaggle of my friends around me. They made me eat crackers and then I heard one of the organisers asking Caro if I needed an ambulance. My arms were slung over the shoulders of two boys, one of which I'd been flirting with, and he went from predatory to caring in a second. Then they wrapped me up in blankets... oh God, I felt so ill I thought I was going to die. I'd never been so wasted or in so much pain in my life. They almost called the ambulance but I was very fixated on the idea of not going back into hospital, and so someone retrieved my phone, a girl with dark red hair and big black eyes, and called my mother, who promptly got in the car to come and get me. Half-passed out I was helped into the front seat and was up sporadically for the whole night, going into sweats, no rest. This morning I feel fucking shit and have had some soup, a full fat coke, and tortilla chips to help settle my stomach.

On the plus side, I weighed myself, and I'm down to 139.2. Guess being paralytically drunk serves some purposes.

I had a Sunday lunch planned with my dad and sister today, but it looks like that one isn't going to happen... which makes me miserable, because I was looking forward to it. My sister also wanted me to help her with her work, a creative writing piece she was having difficulty with. And my dad - well, I don't know when he's going away but it'll be over the next week. There were these caves we used to go to, outside London, with stalagmites and stalactites and boats that you got into with a guide. He said he'd love to go again before he leaves, and it made me sad, as if my childhood was dead, and he was going away forever.

Kit is working in London for the next three days and I offered my place for her to crash at tonight. Once I get in a bath and take a few pills I should be decent, I just have to take it easy. And tomorrow is our 'prom' - oh, did I mention, I finally managed to find a dress? It's a little vintage number that clings to my good parts, maybe I'll photograph it some time. It won't be like anyone else's. I guess that is me all over. I can't wait to see Alfie. I will not be mixing my drinks on an empty stomach tomorrow night, and I'm sure my friends will have their eye on me.

Off for a hot bath, today won't be over 600 calories so maybe I'll see 138 tomorrow. :D

FREEDOM!

OK, so a rundown of the past two days:

1) I took my LAST FREAKING exam! And it actually went really well, fuck knows how, but the minute I got in there I was scribbling away like a mofo... let's hope it paid off! I looked like Road Runner on the way out of school...

2) Zara got tonsillitis and I'm hoping to fucking fuck I didn't catch it because I saw her on Tuesday;

3) My Sudafed arrived in the mail and I took one 10 minutes ago... let's see if this actually works for suppressing my appetite. Either way, I'm not planning on eating a lot today... maybe liquid fasting it. Because...

4) Last night I went over to Tina's and we made mimosas, then ordered 2 huge pizzas when we were drunk. Oh sweet Jesus. I had like... 3 slices of Hawaiian and maybe 3 slices of pepperoni? Maybe more? I don't even remember! And wow I was so bloated at the end of the night... 2,000 calories worth of pizza and alcohol does not look good on me.

So here I am, out of school, two exams having gone pretty well - I hope - and a blank slate in front of me. I will become who I have always dreamt of being, but so, so much better. That girl who wears a simple top and shorts and look ridiculously hot and skinny. The girl who is educated and artful but also down to earth and funny; the girl who everyone wants to be around, and the girl whom people fall in love with.

Oh, last thing: I haven't weighed myself in a couple of days, but I'm assuming I'm around the 140-142 lb region (grim) because I know my body and I know how it looks <140 lbs, and that is definitely not the case right now. I don't know when I'm next gonna weigh, but it won't be until I'm sure I'm out of the Fat Zone.

Nice plans for the rest of June:

Tomorrow- Camden with Caro and maybe Charlie;
23rd- Tina's 18th
24th- Day with my dad and sister
25th- 'Prom' or my school leavers' party - and possible pre-lash before at Bash's
27th- Bash's 18th
29th- Party at pool guy's house

Yep. Life is pretty good right now.

Fuck everythingggggg

Fuck my life. I'm still only halfway through my Twelfth Night notes and it's 11.30pm. I am going to fail this fucking exam. Oh wanna know something else as well? I binged 'cause obviously that's what you do when you have to wake up at 7am and don't have time to sleep the bloat off, or when you're due to see your friend in the evening to eat further amounts of fattening shit. I am not tired. I am not sleepy. I'm not even enticed by the prospect of sleep, in fact I don't want to sleep at all, I think it would be best if I didn't sleep so I could just take this fucking exam in 9 hrs and then fall asleep afterwards. I've had too much fucking caffeine as well as if you couldn't tell. Apologies about the swearing. I went to babysitting and rammed two oat bars down my throat. They didn't even taste good I just needed to feel full... then the minute I felt full I hated myself again, it's just not fair. Oh and then I went home and had two nectarines 3x Toblerone chocolate pieces 3xslices of bread oh and a yogurt, clever clever me. Oh and some fucking crackers and 2 screwdrivers, forgot about those. Fucking orange juice. You are so nice to me in the mornings then in the evenings you just fuck me over. I can't wait till my Sudafed arrive, I need to clamp down on my motherfucking appetite. It's gone through the roof. Voracious hungry greedy girl. I don't deserve anything. Not the pizza or alcohol tomorrow night nor the food the night after that, or the drinks the night after that or anythingggggg

Ugh.

Sun-headache

Today turned out to be better than I'd expected. When I woke up I thought 'oh God' at the idea of having to cram all of this stuff in my head the day before the exam... I had little faith that I'd be able to do a shred of work, but amazingly I powered through (and actually absorbed) all of my Duchess of Malfi notes in about two hours. I did, however, have a little unplanned 'interval' from about 4 to 6 o'clock when Alfie called me out of nowhere and told me that he and Zara were in the vicinity and headed in my direction, determined to 'rescue me from the clutches of revision', which was much appreciated. I didn't feel like seeing anybody, but I love those two and they always cheer me up, so I threw on some clothes and went to meet them on the common. Ridiculously sunny day, and now I have a sun-headache, as well as feeling uncomfortably full from the amount of food I ate with them, but... yeah, it was worth it.

Zara left early and me and Alfie hung out as the sun went in, and he said he just didn't think it was working with Charlie - that all she wanted to do was talk about her problems, and she never asked him how he was feeling about anything. He said they just 'couldn't talk' these days, and it made him sad. But because she gets so neurotic during exams, he didn't want to add unnecessary stress to her life, so he's going to play it by ear and talk to her next week. I said that at the end of the day, I was both their friends and I just wanted them to be happy, so the less messy and emotional the break-up, the better. For everyone in our social circle, actually, because we care about both of them pretty deeply.

Soooo yes. Tomorrow is dee-day. I get to be fucking done with this exam shit and go to Tina's for a celebratory Mimosa (or four). It looks like restricting isn't going to be an option until fucking Friday though... tomorrow I'll have to eat a good breakfast due to my 8.30am death sentence (thanks, exam schedulers), I'll be home by 11 or so, then 5pm I'll go back out again to meet Tina... she wants to order celebratory pizza. Fml. I don't even deserve pizza, it's not like this exam is going to go well... but yeah, I know I won't really have the will to resist after tomorrow morning, so... pizzabinge it is.

As for Thursday, I think I'm going to dinner with my dad and sister. If I don't eat until the evening I might be able to salvage the day but it's not looking good. Friday I'll probably have a drink in the evening if Charlie and Caro are up for coming out, but the likelihood is I won't overeat. As on Saturday it's Tina's 18th and I'm wearing... yep... a leotard. (I'm going as a tightrope walker - it's circus-themed). Don't worry, I'll be wearing gypsy harem pants over the top, but still... upper... half... exposed... cry. Why did I pick this outfit, or an even better question, why the f**k am I not 128 lbs by now.

I'm going out to babysit in an hour so I'd better cram as much work in before that as I can. When I'm over there I just veg out in front of the TV but today I will probably bring my notes and try to do some revision. Then I get back at 10.30 and will have a bath, wash my hair, and go to sleep (haha, or try to at least, it will be a fucking miracle if I drift off before 2am).

Fingers crossed tomorrow goes well... just gonna think of Eliza Dushku to keep me sane...

Dream; bacon; father; drunk.

139 lbs this morning with almost no feasibility of me being there or lower tomorrow morning. Today had no potential to be good. It sucked from the offset. Another bad night of sporadic sleep intervals and tripped out dreams. I dreamt that I was sent away to this weird hospital camp thing and had to pee in a shower/sewer because there were no bathrooms, then all my friends tricked me into believing Alfie was dead - I saw him, lying face down in a pile of dirt - and I was utterly distraught. I was sobbing for hours and hours into my knees. Then in my dream I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and I spun around, and Alfie was standing right there. I didn't understand. So he brought me away from the crowd of my so-called friends, who had been 'consoling' me, and explained to me that it had been a test. I said that when I'd been convinced he was dead, I felt more terrible that I ever thought I would have done, and that I realised how deeply I cared about him. He finally prompted me to admit that I was in love with him.

When I woke up from the dream, I had those three strange, alien words on my lips - I love you - and my whole body ached from tossing and turning. It was sore enough that I almost believed I'd got out of bed and run a marathon during the night. Then I had this rather disturbing interlude of considering whether I might really love this guy. After all, he checks in with me every day. He tells me he's worried about me and that he cares for me deeply despite not having known me long at all.
He may just be the only pure thing in my life. 

I put it down to post-dream hysteria and made myself a soy milkshake, and a bacon sandwich. By four o'clock I'd got no work done and my dad called me up, pretty much with no other intention than to make me feel bad. Up until now he has seemed to understand everything that's been going on with me, but I guess that's him all over. Suddenly he turns. I cried into my knees for forty minutes like I had done in my dream and then I got drunk, in my own bedroom, and swallowed three allergy pills, gulpgulpgulp. I need the proper stuff.

My mum got home later and I poured out all my sorrows to her and had two more drinks. She also brought home these sweet little things... I can't remember what they're called for the life of me, but they're basically little crunchy cheesy corn snacks, shaped like fish. So because I was drunk I poured a ton of them into my salad and mixed it all and engulfed it like some deranged starved maniac. I'm amazed she didn't realise how drunk I was. Maybe I wasn't that drunk. Maybe I just need to get out more. 

I'm officially sick of eating all day long, and not working. Every goddamn day I tell myself, 'Stick to a sensible amount of calories, don't binge, and try to do some work'. Things that should logistically be easy and painless for me, like not exceeding 1200 calories, or reading 2 fucking pages of notes, have become impossible. And I just wish I knew why.

My sleeping habits are fucked. As a result, my coffee and sugar consumption is through the roof, and a certain part of my brain feels it's justified to eat peanut butter sandwiches and chocolate chip biscuits at 10pm. I read a sentence, and I'm exhausted. I smoke way too much even though I know it isn't helping my fatigue, and I seem to have developed a legitimate need to drink alcohol in the evenings - not with the intent of calming down or socialising, which might perhaps be more normal, but, ultimately, to escape from my own thoughts and eventually get drowsy enough to fall asleep. What is happening to me?    

Yeah.

I hate posting twice in one day because I feel like it just annoys everybody. But I have various thoughts floating round my head that refuse to leave unless I write them down so here goes. Firstly I've had three glasses of wine - not my drink of choice, for the record, but all of my local shops have stopped accepting my fucking ID so I couldn't buy any vodka like I wanted to. For some reason they only let us buy it when we're in big groups and already slightly rowdy at like 1 in the morning. Before night time I'm just a child to them, with a card that states a date of birth which may or may not be legit. So fuck them. I need to eat less so I get drunk quicker because I feel just the same as I did an hour ago, except now I have less time to work before sleep. I bought some potato salad because it was cheap and have already had one pot, as well as two mini chocolate bars and a piece of toast; and now I'm sitting here feeling guilty and bloated and like I might as well just go and eat everything in the house because why not, I've already ruined today. I probably won't do it to myself, only for the slight chance I could see 139 tomorrow. Another thing. I'm missing Rebecca, like hell. I miss her because I need someone to tell me what to do, how to handle myself. I miss having someone keep me in check and someone to starve, binge, purge with. It's sick and twisted and unhealthy but I need it so badly right now, I need that intimacy, that closeness, that codependency. Now I have no one in my real life who even knows properly what I'm going through, I don't even have regular therapy anymore, and there's no one who supports me with losing weight, or trying not to binge, that I can just call or text or see to make it all better. Having that in my life was dangerous and addictive but it was also thrilling and wonderful and amazing and I miss it so much it hurts. I miss her. And the worst thing is, I can't even fucking call her. Or text her. Or message her. Scrap that, I just sent her a message on Facebook, it's not like she's even going to reply or take it seriously, but I had to send her a note asking if she was OK. I haven't spoken to her since February when I was in hospital and... God, I need her back so badly right now, I can't even explain it but it's like this hole in my heart, I thought I was OK but I'm really not...

I need to lose weight. I need to get back to 135 lbs. I want 137 by next Wednesday and then 135 by Tina's 18th if I don't get there I will hate myself. Jesus, I wish someone could just staple my stomach or remove the part of my brain which controls overeating, or more accurately doesn't control it... yes, I need a lobotomy, that's it. I need to forget all the shit that has happened to me. I need to just smoke menthols and drink coffee and think of Rebecca until this fucking weight falls off me. I hate the sight of my body so badly, I can't even tell you. I feel like I look 20 lbs heavier than I did at 135. At least then I had some semblance of control, now what do I have, apparently a new-found drinking problem and fat thighs, oh and like 10 effing spots on my face which are probably going to scar. Thanks body.

Sorry for the rambling but yeah I am in a bad place right now and the booze is starting to kick in, probably such a bad idea to get drunk and I will probably be having more straight after I close the laptop but yeah I should do some work.

The return of insomnia

Well this morning hasn’t been a complete disaster but I feel pretty miserable despite yesterday having felt stable for once. Firstly, my good old friend insomnia has apparently decided to waltz back into my life at this crucial time and I didn’t get to sleep until a little before 5am. So that wasn’t great, and then my cat miraculously opened my door 2 hours later and jumped on my bed and kept padding around, and I was too tired to shut her out. Then I fell into this bizarre dream in which me and various members of my family were strewn over this patch of the ocean, with our belongings either floating around us, or being delivered down to us from long streamers in the sky. All of our boxes were like old-fashioned trunks with patches and stamps all over them, and my dad’s girlfriend was there… it was just weird and it went on seemingly forever. My mum’s boyfriend woke me up again by laughing loudly outside my door at around 11 o’clock which pissed me off, because I was actually quite enjoying the tranquillity and bizarre-ness of my dream, and it took me around 15 minutes to get back to sleep (which in my mind felt like 2 hours). Finally I slept until 12.30 and didn’t come out of my room until half one.

Several things that upset me from the offset: my skin is still looking terrible, despite the amount of healthy food I’ve been trying to eat lately (this just makes me think: why bother). I’ve even got more spots than before and some of them I can’t cover and I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s still this bad next week. Then I stepped on the scales and the switch had accidentally flipped back to pounds, so I got a nasty surprise seeing 140.4 on the reader. Yes, I knew I’d be somewhere around here in the back of my mind, but I suppose the combination of me having a long sleep and the fact that I actually felt smaller, had led me to believe I’d have lost weight since yesterday. Not to mention I did actually keep the calories moderate last night; I definitely didn’t binge and I didn’t eat past 8pm.

Whatever.

Still, I guess 140 is a good starting point. It’s not anywhere near where I am comfortable with and even saying it makes me ashamed, but it’s not 141, or 142 (which is where I ballooned to earlier this week) and I know I’m starting to get this night-time bingeing under control, which can mean nothing but good things.

At 2pm I made a mocha frappuccino from scratch, which I calculated to be 150 calories. I also stupidly decided to bung 6 potato smileys in the oven, and then even worse, preceded to cover them with grated cheddar cheese and tomato sauce and stick that under the grill. I also think I stuffed half a piece of bread with hoummous in my face, which was entirely unnecessary, but for some reason I felt the obligation to do so.

It’s now 3pm, and I’m sipping ice water; that is all I aim to consume for the rest of the afternoon while I am working. Then in the evening I’ll have an alcoholic drink or two, preferably a Screwdriver if I can get my hands on some vodka or even better, Baileys. Because alcohol doesn’t count and makes me feel better about everything so you know why the fuck not.

Work plan for today: read all notes on Paradise Lost thoroughly; compile notes on Twelfth Night and Duchess of Malfi. Also, I’m going to try not to exceed 800 calories today, if I can help it (and that includes booze). Maybe (hopefully) I’ll see 139 tomorrow. Fingers crossed.        

Today is going to be O.K

For the first time in ages, I think today might actually turn out to be decent. I slept until 10.30 a.m. after a crazy dream, woke up, then went back to sleep (and back to the dream) until 12.30. Then I got up properly, tidied up my face, put a little makeup on to make myself feel put together, and went downstairs for a coffee with my mum at our new dining room table with the back door open and cool air flowing into the house.        

I have the next 3 days to concentrate on learning my three set texts for English literature - a day for each text. Saturday I am going to cancel Eliza because I simply can't afford to take the entire weekend off. Sunday I'll see Tina as it's just a quiet evening in and won't put any strain on my revision (hopefully). Then I have Monday and Tuesday to recap everything, do more exam prep, and then Wednesday I sit the last freaking exam of this summer. Then it's freedom time.

Food-wise, I'm going to be trying a different approach over the next few days; one based on intuition rather than calorie-counting. I woke up at 63.7 kilos, which, considering the fact that I had around 1800 calories yesterday, was pretty lucky. I saw my sister and we had coffee at Starbucks, then she came home and we made quite a big dinner which was unplanned. It was worth it though (in my opinion) because I got to spend time with my little sis and talk to her about everything - the moving in, etc. - which sort of justifies the comfort eating element... it's not like I binged on 800 calories by myself, so it's OK. She's in a state, not surprisingly, but I've never seen her this bad, not for a while. She hardly ever cries and she is crying so much lately. However I think this is a good thing, as bottling her feelings up won't do her many favours in the long run. Also, I forgot how clever she can be when she feels like it; we ended up debating the cosmological argument outside Starbucks, and, Jesus Christ, for an unruly fifteen year-old school cop-out, she can argue a philosophical point like there's no tomorrow. It's a shame she uses her intelligence to manipulate people and be borderline sociopathic when might she direct her skills of persuasion and insight differently she could do very well for herself at school. I think it will be interesting living with her again. I've missed out on a whole year of her life.

Falling

I think I'm falling for Alfie. It sounds stupid seeing as we haven't seen each other for ages but honestly, I don't remember feeling this way about anyone before.

On Sunday before my exam, he called me up and wished me good luck, and told me I had nothing to worry about.

He just... like... gets me, you know? I don't have to say everything and he still gets it. But I'm not going to act on my feelings before he and Charlie break up - which, according to just about all of our friends, is inevitable. If I can help it I won't act on my feelings at all, but if it does happen some time this summer, it will be kept strictly secret. He's going to university in October anyway so it's not like we could have any sort of relationship even if we wanted to. But a girl can dream.

You'd think that feeling this intensely about someone would stop me from eating, but it hasn't. I've been eating my feelings. But that's because this situation isn't tense. At the beginning of January I was so wound up with the whole Rebecca situation, that I found it super easy to restrict. I felt like a bundle of nerves 24/7 and when I did eat, I didn't enjoy it. So, in the most sick and twisted way, I'm almost wanting drama to go down during summer, just so that I have an excuse to feel nervous and on edge and subsequently lose all interest in food.

I haven't done anything wrong and I'm not being deceitful, so I have nothing to feel guilty about. It's not like I've slept with my best friend's boyfriend so no one can guilt me into feeling like I've done something wrong. Right?

I also don't give a shit about 'girl-code' and I think people should do whatever they want. But I'm not going to vocalise my beliefs on this subject for the time being.

Today is looking to be a 1,000 day which is a damn whole lot better than my recent eating behaviour. I have a weird stomach ache that is not PMS-related so it's sort of putting me off eating heavy food. So far I've just drunk a shit load of fresh fruit smoothie which seems to have helped. Tonight I have to pick up my sister from her first therapy session and I told her we could get Starbucks afterwards. I'll probably just get a skinny frappuccino which comes to 96 calories. There's no need for me to eat anything else today apart from that. It's not like I'm working my ass off and deserve to eat, is it?

Sigh.

Vegan binge

So I thought I'd be a good girl today, cleanse my body of all the terrible junk I've been shovelling for the past week, and eat 600-800 calories of nutritious, low fat vegan food. I was so close to making it work. My error was that I had my supper of pea & mint soup early, at like 5pm. I was so restless and so worried I would binge that I got dressed and went on a long walk. During this walk I passed the health food shop near my house. It's a really cool big one that stocks these awesome vegan/vegetarian options that you can't get in many places over here. I used to shop there all the time during my vegetarian days last year. But anyway... I thought to myself, 'I'll stock up on some stuff so I can do a few days of this' and picked up some quinoa salad, lots of fruit smoothies and vegetable juices, a couple of raw vegan cereal bars, raw cacao & cinnamon kale chips, more falafel, etc. I brought it all home and within an hour, I had eaten over half of it.
 
I do it to myself.

Here's how my week looks. Tomorrow I'm collecting my sister from a therapy session and bringing her back home for dinner. I don't know what that will entail, which is making me stupidly anxious, so I'm gonna have to play tomorrow by ear. On Saturday I'm spending the day with Eliza, and then going out for Italian, which will be the death of me, and on Sunday I'm having supper at Tina's, which may or may not be healthy. So that leaves me Thursday and Friday to myself, during which I am going to try my absolute goddamn hardest to restrict. I need to, if I stand any chance at NOT looking like a fat cow once exams are over.

I'm trying really hard to dig myself out of this hole, readers, I really am. Because let's face it, no one wants to read about a girl who just binges continuously and never loses any weight. So it's time to get myself on track. I need to be in the 61's by the beginning of next week. Losing weight is the only thing that makes me truly happy these days.

New plan finally

I am in such a filthy mood right now. I took my English paper. It actually wasn't that bad and I think I *might* have done OK. But then I went to go and meet my sister, and we went back to my dad's flat... I ended up eating 1/2 of a pepperoni pizza, a slice of bread with butter and cheese, 1 1/2 packs of crisps, nuts, and sweets. I really am a disgusting individual. And the tragic thing? I actually woke up at 63.3 kilos (139.6 lbs) this morning - yes I have started weighing in kilos again - which was incredibly lucky and should have put me in the mindset to resist bingeing and kick off this week with a bang. I did kick it off with a bang. Just... not the right type of bang.

  

I've been considering how to proceed with my new 'plan of action', so to speak. How to go about getting this f*cking weight off. I've come up with some ideas based on the intermittent fasting/zig-zagging calories concept. The basic theory is that if I make every 3rd day a cheat day (ie. 1,500-2,000 calories) and on the other 2 days have 600 calories or less of healthy, vegetarian/vegan food to purge my body of the cheat days, I should keep my metabolism running high and hopefully lose weight. I'm not expecting it to work. It's not like I've ever succeeded at this sticking-to-a-plan thing before. But I'm going to damn well give it a shot because I have nothing to lose at this point (besides perhaps the obvious 6 kilos). 

So, today counted as a cheat day. That means tomorrow and Wednesday, I'm sticking to two consecutive 600-calorie days, then on Thursday I get to splash out again. I have proposed a coffee with Tina at some point this week, and I also need to take Eliza out to dinner for her belated 18th as it's our tradition to go for Italian every year. Creamy pasta dishes and ice cream... not something I can afford to indulge in unless I'm compensating somehow either side of it. So yeah, this is how the next few weeks are gonna go. A typical kind of 600-day might go something like this:

Morning: Natural granola with soymilk and sliced banana (300)

Evening: Baby spinach salad with hoummous or cream cheese; fruit smoothie (300)

OR:

Morning: Coconut, banana and pineapple smoothie; kale chips (250)

Evening: Vegetarian, bean or mushroom burgers/falafel with green salad (350) 

  

I'm gonna try to stick to 2 main meal times. Grazing constantly makes me binge without a doubt. When exams finish and parties start up my eating schedule will probably be a little more erratic. I might do something like eat normally on the days I have parties and do veggie 'fasts' on the days I don't... I don't want to plan for it particularly, just take it as it comes. The plan allows for indulgence but also a chance to detox my body and let it repair itself in between partying. And trust me, the way me and my friends do it, it will need to be repaired.

So that's it pretty much it. I'll update you tomorrow night to let you know how it's going. I'm back to using kilos for the time being because I think losing 6 kilos sounds easier than losing 12 lbs. I will probably weigh in the region of 63.8-64.0 tomorrow. My long-time goal is obviously 58 kilos/128 lbs, but for right now I'm focusing on the number 61. It's nice and clean. 

Peace and love 

Unravelling

Well, this morning I feel like death warmed up, I really do. It's going to be another miserable post, so I apologise in advance, and you don't have to read this. I was 140.2 lbs this morning. 140 fucking pounds. Everything I worked so hard for has just unravelled around me. I cannot let myself be seen like this. I have 11 days exactly until my last exam. After that, it's party time, and there's no way I am making appearances at this weight, or anything near it. 6 of these pounds must be gone in the next two weeks, no exceptions. NO MORE THAN 1500 CALORIES A DAY. I am so disappointed with myself right now.

Pessimist Post

Everything is so weird and horrible at the moment. I feel like I'm living in a dream world. I might as well be sitting a geography paper on Monday - that's how prepared I am. As it stands, I don't feel like even trying anymore. What's the point? If I try, then I'll have something to lose.

My weight has gone up to 139.8 and it makes me sick to my stomach to think of that. Yesterday I had about 3,000 calories and then day before that around 2,500. Writing those numbers literally disgusts me but this blog is about honesty, so there you go. My skin is looking shitty. And I'm so ashamed of this weight I can't even get dressed, let alone leave the house. If I find myself in the 140s again... I just don't know what I'll do.

The girls who commented on my last post (you know who you are) made me consider that I had come a long way, and that 128 was within my reach. But sitting here, at 139.8, I feel like I have made no progress whatsoever. I was this weight back in February, and at one point last year. Yeah, I may have got down to lower numbers (135) momentarily, but I haven't managed to sustain any of those numbers.

Literally, I feel so shit today that I can't actually envision myself getting out of my pyjamas/bed all day.

I talked to Alfie until 4.30 am this morning. He said he couldn't bear to think of me unhappy. Well, this is who I really am. I'm an unhappy person who hates herself. And it appears that after 18 years of hell, nothing is going to change that.

Full

I hate that feeling of fullness at the end of the day. More than anything. Even if it's just feeling comfortably filled up by a normal, healthy amount of food, it still makes my skin crawl. It makes me want to binge, because if I'm already full, I might as well feel absolutely stuffed.

Right now, I am sitting here blogging from my neighbours' sitting room. I'm babysitting, their kid is in bed, and it's taking every ounce of will power I have not to just overeat. Not on their food - unless I feel like having a baby oaty raisin bar binge. I had the stupidity to bring the bag which contained a packet of crisps, some strawberry laces and a Milky Way chocolate bar left over from Sunday. I have already eaten the chocolate, which made me feel quite ill to be honest. Milky Ways are incredibly filling and sickly sweet. Yet I have had to double knot the plastic bag, zip up my satchel, and put it in the hallway in an attempt to physically stop myself from eating the whole flaming bag of food. 

To make matters worse, I was up to 138.4 this morning, which quite frankly felt like a kick in the teeth, after almost a week of eating over 1,500 calories a day and maintaining a steady 137. I know that if I stop eating now, there might well be a chance that I see 137 again tomorrow. However, if I give in and eat the food that's in my bag, there's no way I will be any less than 138 in the morning. Maybe even *shudder* 139.

  

I NEED to get to 128. I cannot express how this is a necessity and not just a want. Every day I feel more and more resentful of the weight I am right now. The fact that I am still in the high 130s, and, as of late, astonishingly close to the 140s (a weight range I will dread returning to for the entirety of my adult life), makes me feel squeamish of seeing my own body in the mirror. Logically, in the eyes of others, I know I must look 'slim'. My BMI is around 20, my recently purchased size 12s hardly hold up around my hips, and my upper body feels - dare I say it - svelte. Almost. Not to mention the comments I received from my friends on Sunday. So why am I so goddamn torn up about the whole thing? Well, obviously it's because I've suffered with eating problems for half of my freaking life, but on the surface, I should just be thankful I'm not obese from the amount I've been shoving down my throat, and concentrating on more urgently important issues, such as my upcoming English exam.

It's next Monday and I don't know half the course, let alone how to write an essay on any of it. I wish I could just wing it (as I have done in the past, unfortunately with effortless success). But I know this time it's different. I can't just walk in there knowing nothing. I am panicking and it is not helping the fact that I can't sit down to work. The two fucking feed each other.

Well, writing this has taken my mind off bingeing, strangely enough. I hope I am sufficiently put off not to cave in the minute I close this window.

My plan is to regulate the amount of calories I'm eating, cutting down to a steady 1,300-1,500 a day until I'm back to around 136 lbs. Once I'm back there, I can restrict to 1,200 until I reach the next milestone (133?), 1,100 until the milestone after that, etc etc, until I finally reach 128. For crying out loud, it's only 10 lbs. It shouldn't be this hard.

Tomorrow will be better.

Below: the source of my procrastination. 

Jubilee

It's chilly in London again and I can't tell you how happy this makes me, everyone can complain about cold weather all they like, but I'd take it over sweltering heat any day.

Yesterday was sooo much fun. Caro, Tina, Bash and Alfie came over and we got drunk in my sitting room. I swear, I still have some alcohol in my system. Pimms, vodka, Jägermeister, more Pimms, more vodka... and scones. I ate a lot but, like clockwork, I'm back to 137.2 this morning. Ha.

So. The Alfie Situation. It is getting a bit intense. We were texting a LOT leading up to the party. Then once he was here, he did a lot of things that were overly flirtatious. When we were walking down to the corner shop to buy more booze and I was lighting up, he nabbed my cigarette and literally walked backwards with it for about ten minutes, inviting me to try and grab it from him and then pulling his hand away. It was annoying but flirtatious, if you know what I mean. Then later we got in my bath tub (when we were drunk) and we kind of curled up, and he told me that whenever I was going through shit I should call him, or if I'd had a hospital appointment and I wanted someone to talk to afterwards, as he lives near the hospital I go to he would come and meet me. He also knows I have issues with my eating, he totally gets it for some strange reason, and he keeps telling me that I'm perfect. (NB: He also said he thought Charlie was 'too skinny'. I should keep this in mind next time I feel like comparing myself to her). He also picked me up over his shoulder and did other similar things to assert his manly strength. Not gonna lie, he completely overwhelms me. I've never been so attracted to someone in real life.
       
SHUT UP.

That was that.

Wait, before I stop talking about it, I should add, Tina told me he'd been having a fight with Charlie. Funnily enough, it's the same fight I've been having with her, but fortunately for me sex isn't involved. For them it is, and sex complicates everything. He is literally the sweetest guy I know and yet she is finding all these nonsensical reasons to get angry with him. Example: her last accusation was that he was trying to 'manipulate her' because he said he was upset she couldn't make it to a date they'd had planned for ages.

?!

Oh and he kissed me really softly on the cheek when we were saying goodbye. But that doesn't mean shit does it? I don't even know anymore. I need to get my feelings in check.

Anyway, it was a great afternoon/evening. Got smashed and had a scone in the name of the Queen. Gotta say, the Jubilee is such a joke. It's blatantly just an excuse for everyone in the UK to get wasted for three days straight.

Hope everyone is well x

Feeling a little better

So I thought, whilst I was sitting here eating a peanut butter Kit Kat Chunky at 12 in the morning, I would give you all a brief update on how everything is going. It's not going to be very long because I have to get ready for friends coming over in just over an hour (for Pimms! Yay!). But the run down is, I'm feeling a lot better than I did at the end of last week. I don't know why I'm feeling better, as my life is a total mess recently, but here goes.

Family-wise: I had breakfast with my mum and dad yesterday, which was a very surreal experience. Oh, and they ended up having a raucous argument in the middle of the cafe. It was great! Took me right back to happier days (sarcasm, just in case you missed that). But for the most part it was pretty hilarious. My parents should never be together again but in some ways, I really, really wish they could because they were meant for each other. I don't see that kind of intimacy or shared humour between my mum and her boyfriend, or my dad and his girlfriend - it's sad, but I honestly don't. My parents are one of a kind.

Work-wise: I've got a little more work done, but no significant amount which is shit. But, tomorrow is Monday, which means *ta-da* a week before exam #1... fuck my actual life. I gotta get a move on the minute this Jubilee hype is over.

Friend-wise: I got into a little scrap with Charlie yesterday. Long story short: She pissed me off by cancelling last minute, but there's far more to it than that. I'll explain tomorrow, or whenever I next blog. But it's nothing serious (I hope) and no one has done anything terribly unjust or wrong.

Boy-wise: Me and Alfie have been texting way more than is necessary, and I want to lick Liam from 90210's face.

Girl-wise: Currently, there is no girl-wise. Although I'd really like not to compare them, my bisexuality, rather like my bipolarity, manifests itself periodically in heterosexuality and periodically in homosexuality, and I rarely feel both at the same time. At the moment, as I say, I want to lick Liam from 90210's face.

Food-wise: I am stuffing myself with 1,500-2,000 calories a day and not getting any fatter. 137 lbs has become 'my weight' rather than just a 'Thursday weigh-in'. While this is excellent in many respects and allows me to indulge my fat-girl side without becoming one, it's also time for me get out of this weight zone and start seeing numbers like 134 on my scales. New numbers. I'm fucking sick of 137.

So that's the 'basic' run down. I am now significantly late for my own schedule of getting both myself and the house ready for this afternoon. I'll let you know what goes down tomorrow.

Untitled

I'm in a strange way. Over the last few days, my mind has sprung from exam panic, to thinking about my sister coming, to thinking about my dad, to thinking about how things used to be, to feeling terribly sad over the whole thing, to thinking about food and weight to deal with it, to then starting to panic about exams again and consequently feeling guilty for thinking about calories when I should be thinking about language acquisition theorists.

One general feeling I can pinpoint and describe, as touched upon briefly in a few of my posts, has been this awful, unabating nostalgia that has consumed me and continually led my mind away from the task at hand. It is ridiculous. My childhood was fucking miserable in parts and I have no fondness for the violent arguments that took place in our household up until two years ago. But I miss it, in this sick, shameful way. I miss the sound of the arguments; they were my safety net for a good long while. I even miss the hysteria recently. The way crying so hard I couldn't speak properly the next day completely removed me from everything; not like the way it is now, where if I have an issue or a stress, I have to sit in it and endure it and be sensible. I can't kick off like I used to or throw a tantrum - I'm supposed to be a 'grown-up'.

And the most mind-boggling of all, is how much I have been longing for a rigid structure to be imposed upon me, such as a school timetable, or an obligation to go out with my family on a countryside walk at the weekend. I hate structure. But do I? Is it really that bad to have something solid, stable, to get you out of bed early in the morning and put you to bed early at night? Even if you fuck around with it, sleep in past two of your lessons because you're so damn depressed and tired, and get aggressively yanked out of your bed by your ankles, a raging father telling you you're a waste of his time and money. Is it that bad to be cajoled into joining every single orchestra the school provides, on top of attending a prestigious college of music every Saturday for eight hours straight of intense practice, performance and education (labour?), even when you fucked that too, you gave it all up, threw it in your exhausted parents' faces after ten years of sweat, blood and tears -? I don't know. Perhaps it is that bad. But perhaps it is unfathomably better, than the excruciating placidity you have to endure here.

I think of what my life used to be, and with the full knowledge of how much I fucking despised it, I miss it, with the worst heartache imaginable.

PS. I thought you'd all like to know that I've 'reset' my metabolism. I binged purposely two days ago to give it a kick up the backside, and am now back at 137, eating 1,200 calories a day and not gaining weight from it. I'm not losing weight either, but I'm hoping I will be soon once I gain some of my energy back. Whatever.