Long story short, I gained weight. A lot of weight. I’m 152.8 lbs. currently, to be precise. And it has come to my attention recently just how unattractive I become when I go over the 145 lb. mark. To put it one way, my face looks like a circle. I’m 20. If ever there is a time to shed your puppy fat for good, it’s now. The other day when hanging out with Caro in the broadway, the guy who was serving us cigarettes said I looked fifteen. He could have been joking but it got to me. I don’t want to have a baby face anymore. I see girls with those big wide smiles and skinny chins and smile lines and I feel jealous. I hate smiling these days because it just pushes my cheeks out even further. Ugh.
As well as losing the fuck ton of weight I gained this winter, I’m also in dire need of totally re-booting my attitude towards work. I’m not expecting to become perfect at everything overnight, but next term is going to be the most hectic term of the year, and my energy needs to be peak. The only way to get round this is by getting myself organised, staying focused on the task at all times, and essentially entering some sort of lean-mean-work-machine state whereby anything is possible. Last term I quickly lost sight of the things I set out to achieve, and it ended disastrously. Next term will be a different story. Fingers crossed, because I really do want to do well this year.
So the resolutions after New Years will be as follows:
-Start exercising
-Quit drinking
-To not buy cigarettes anymore
-Get into routine and stick to it
-Lose 30 lbs
-Make one short film
-Read more widely
-Do well at school.
-Oh, and don’t fall in love again, because it ruins everything, as I found out this year.
I’ll get back to logging my intakes tomorrow. There’s been no point as of late considering I’ve been eating well over 2,000 calories a day. The emphasis this week will be placed on more fresh fruit/veg, and less cheese/carbs, which I rely on way too much to make up the majority of my diet.
I actually can’t wait for 2013 to be over. It’s been one hell of a year, ‘hell’ being the operative word.
Monday, 30 December 2013
Thursday, 12 December 2013
Damage control
I'm 149 lbs again, and not happy about this recent development, although I suppose I only have myself to blame for eating the way I did towards the end of term. I realised last night that I've completely forgotten how to eat for health rather than for comfort. I'm so used to being able to shove in a huge bag of salty crisps, cheese on toast, or cereal washed down by a bottle of mulled wine. They're just empty carbs which provide temporary happiness but in the long run they do me absolutely no good. It's no wonder I've put on half a stone.
Realising that I'd actually forgotten how to eat well, I decided to look back to posts from earlier this year and 2012. I'd like to get back to how I was eating around the time I went to Amsterdam in September last year. I was living off a lot of vegan, organic foods and fresh produce, having yogurt granola and fruit every morning, drinking homemade smoothies and going out for sushi lunches with friends. I don't know what happened to that way of living! I suppose it faded away, along with school, old friends, and summer time. Still, I'm determined to get my health back on track. I've got a nasty cough so I'm limiting myself to a max of four cigarettes a day until I get better. I am also going to make a special effort to do mundane things like eat more fruit and veg. It may be the season to be jolly, but who says being jolly means getting fat??!
I started off the day with low fat vanilla yogurt, granola, sultanas & a chopped banana, plus an Innocent fruit smoothie. I'm meeting Tina at 5pm for Starbucks, so I think I'll have a super green lunch of mange tout, olives, and cucumber :) Dinner will probably be a bit of whatever's knocking around, although I do feel like making some soup and baguette. I'll see how it goes.
On another happy note (insert sarcasm here), I've felt really, really unwanted since I came back to London. It's not that I feel like my family hate me or anything, but ever since Monday, my mum and sister keep throwing out little reminders that my return has caused disruptions. This morning my mum lost her rag with my sister because she wouldn't get up to go to school, and she blamed it on me coming downstairs at midnight to go to the bathroom. As if that is reason not to get up in the morning. Then she proceeded to say that everything was fine before I came home, and now no one can sleep because of me, and maybe I should just go back to university. I have half a mind to go back early in the new year. Honestly. If no one wants me here I'm not going to sit around and get shit hurled at me for being up at night. Did I mention that they moved me out of my room and into the attic mezzanine in my absence? It's so cramped up here, I don't have a door and I have to walk down a VERY rickety spiral staircase that creaks whenever I need to get downstairs. Good plan putting the insomniac on the top floor.
Ugh. Anyway, rant over. I hope my mother cools her boots and stops blaming me for things that aren't my fault. I feel like I'm eighteen again on my gap year, like the unruly invalid child who's out of everyone else's schedule and makes more problems than she's worth. Or something.
Monday, 9 December 2013
It's been a while
Decided to return to this blog now that term has officially ended. I need it.
What’s happened?
A heart break, some weight gain, an (ongoing) existential crisis, more insomnia, and a lot of confusion. Long story short, I fell in love with my flatmate, the boy who lives opposite me. I'll call him Freddie. It was unrequited love, as far as he let on, although various things did happen between us that lead our friends (and me) to believe otherwise. The German fucked up big time and I decided to kick him out. Oh, and I also realised I'd been on a manic episode for about eight weeks and seriously needed to sort my shit out before I actually went up the wall. Now I'm back home and still reeling from it all. Time for a checklist? This term I -
-Went through about thirty condoms
-Spent about £1,300 without really realising
-Slept on average 4 hours a night
-Realised if I were to give up smoking I'd probably become a nymphomaniac instead
-Got even more entrenched in my disordered habits surrounding food and alcohol
-Sabotaged and saved up about a gram of Ritalin, which I fully intend to make proper use of this Christmas
-Met some people I'll probably know for the rest of my life.
Currently I need to numb myself by trying to diet again. I’ve become far too curvy for my own liking. Too soft round the edges. It’s not good enough. I need to be strong, fast, athletic, svelte. I cannot come back to university in January this same person. I do not want to be her anymore. She has not served me well.
Further musings - is it weird that I want to be tall, lean and athletic like a boy? I’m surrounded by so many chiselled beautiful young men at university who all have faces sculpted by angels, and naturally being a theatre student I like the idea of becoming an androgynous-looking faery. I get afraid of my own curves. They remind me I’m a woman and this fact often makes me feel very vulnerable.
It's all very Brechtian, I suppose. Watch this space x
What’s happened?
A heart break, some weight gain, an (ongoing) existential crisis, more insomnia, and a lot of confusion. Long story short, I fell in love with my flatmate, the boy who lives opposite me. I'll call him Freddie. It was unrequited love, as far as he let on, although various things did happen between us that lead our friends (and me) to believe otherwise. The German fucked up big time and I decided to kick him out. Oh, and I also realised I'd been on a manic episode for about eight weeks and seriously needed to sort my shit out before I actually went up the wall. Now I'm back home and still reeling from it all. Time for a checklist? This term I -
-Went through about thirty condoms
-Spent about £1,300 without really realising
-Slept on average 4 hours a night
-Realised if I were to give up smoking I'd probably become a nymphomaniac instead
-Got even more entrenched in my disordered habits surrounding food and alcohol
-Sabotaged and saved up about a gram of Ritalin, which I fully intend to make proper use of this Christmas
-Met some people I'll probably know for the rest of my life.
Currently I need to numb myself by trying to diet again. I’ve become far too curvy for my own liking. Too soft round the edges. It’s not good enough. I need to be strong, fast, athletic, svelte. I cannot come back to university in January this same person. I do not want to be her anymore. She has not served me well.
Further musings - is it weird that I want to be tall, lean and athletic like a boy? I’m surrounded by so many chiselled beautiful young men at university who all have faces sculpted by angels, and naturally being a theatre student I like the idea of becoming an androgynous-looking faery. I get afraid of my own curves. They remind me I’m a woman and this fact often makes me feel very vulnerable.
It's all very Brechtian, I suppose. Watch this space x
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
Deliriously ill
Got the flu. Not the regular kind, where you can still function, but the kind where I literally couldn't get out of bed for four days, except to pee (and even that was with some considerable difficulty). Missed three days of lectures and an essay deadline. Nice way to start out term, Gabby.
So my weight sort of plummeted to 142 lbs. I don't know what to make of this, because I definitely look thinner than 142 in the mirror. Maybe it's because I'm all ill and frail and gaunted out. But when I went to the kitchen to get some water earlier, I received three comments all pertaining to how skinny I'd gotten, and how my ribs can now apparently be seen through my chest. Excellent.
My sister called me on the phone today. The conversation went a little like this:
Gabby's sister: So how are you feeling?
Gabby: Like someone ran me over with a truck.
Gabby's sister: Shall I bring your Doc Martens up next Friday when I come visit? You forgot them. Oh and shall I bring that sniffy stuff that people put up their noses when they have colds? The stuff in your drawer?
Gabby: How do you... and I'll be better by next Friday.
Gabby's sister: So how's the German? Guess what, I lost so much weight since you left because mum only buys grapefruits and parmesan cheese now.
Gabby: Can't you buy your own food?
Gabby's sister: Well I could, but I can't be bothered. And I quite like grapefruits, anyway.
My sister doesn't HAVE any weight to lose. Last time I checked, she was only half an inch shorter than me, and barely scraping 105 lbs. Is this normal for an almost-seventeen-year-old girl whose primary sources of exercise involve hair-straightening and galavanting up-stairs balancing multiple bowls of ice cream, pizza and apple pudding at once? When I was seventeen, I was heavier than I am now, shorter than I am now, and the idea of eating even half a pizza by myself would probably have given me a hernia.
More concerning is that she's going through my top drawers, or rather, knows what's in them. Oh well. That's all water under the bridge now, I suppose.
So my weight sort of plummeted to 142 lbs. I don't know what to make of this, because I definitely look thinner than 142 in the mirror. Maybe it's because I'm all ill and frail and gaunted out. But when I went to the kitchen to get some water earlier, I received three comments all pertaining to how skinny I'd gotten, and how my ribs can now apparently be seen through my chest. Excellent.
My sister called me on the phone today. The conversation went a little like this:
Gabby's sister: So how are you feeling?
Gabby: Like someone ran me over with a truck.
Gabby's sister: Shall I bring your Doc Martens up next Friday when I come visit? You forgot them. Oh and shall I bring that sniffy stuff that people put up their noses when they have colds? The stuff in your drawer?
Gabby: How do you... and I'll be better by next Friday.
Gabby's sister: So how's the German? Guess what, I lost so much weight since you left because mum only buys grapefruits and parmesan cheese now.
Gabby: Can't you buy your own food?
Gabby's sister: Well I could, but I can't be bothered. And I quite like grapefruits, anyway.
My sister doesn't HAVE any weight to lose. Last time I checked, she was only half an inch shorter than me, and barely scraping 105 lbs. Is this normal for an almost-seventeen-year-old girl whose primary sources of exercise involve hair-straightening and galavanting up-stairs balancing multiple bowls of ice cream, pizza and apple pudding at once? When I was seventeen, I was heavier than I am now, shorter than I am now, and the idea of eating even half a pizza by myself would probably have given me a hernia.
More concerning is that she's going through my top drawers, or rather, knows what's in them. Oh well. That's all water under the bridge now, I suppose.
Thursday, 10 October 2013
I caved and bought a pair of very expensive, digital, bathroom scales. I can't stand not being able to know my weight. Today was the first day that I binged. Actually, properly binged. Luckily none of it was alone in my room... but me and my flatmate shared a big bar of Galaxy, ordered Chinese, and devoured a family bag of crisps/quite a lot of cereal in the space of about 3 hours. I feel sick. And fat. And I started my period.
This calls for a new plan to be drawn up. I bought scales, and I bought food. Healthy food that I could probably use to restrict if I tried hard enough. I shouldn't have to try, but I do, and to be honest, I don't think I can face going home heavier than I was when I left.
This calls for a new plan to be drawn up. I bought scales, and I bought food. Healthy food that I could probably use to restrict if I tried hard enough. I shouldn't have to try, but I do, and to be honest, I don't think I can face going home heavier than I was when I left.
Technically, the new plan's daily total shouldn't come to more than 500. Realistically, alcohol exists, my appetite is very much still alive, and random pizza dates in my bedroom with The German have become commonplace. But there you go, an actual set plan for now. I'm hoping I can keep it up for a couple of days, then assess how it's going via the scales.
Wonder if it's possible to come back at Christmas a waif. Dreading weigh-in numero 1 on Saturday morning, when my scales arrive. Perhaps if I work hard enough, start sleeping with The German instead of eating dinner, and watch enough French cinema I MIGHT just get the result I want.
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
Confessions of a drama queen
University life is... surprisingly not as strange as I'd thought it would be. Our campus and town are amazing, and I'm in love with my flatmates. Fresher's week ended, and thus began a stream of lectures and workshops. My lectures are great. I sit with two guys and a girl, the gems I've picked out, at the back of the theatre, put on my glasses, and scribble like there's no tomorrow. It's like being in an English literature A-level class, which is comforting. Workshops, however, are a strange hybrid of RADA training and nursery school. They involve hours of leaping around, circle time, making bizarre noises you never deemed yourself capable of, and, of course, trying desperately to impress twenty-odd people you've never met and feel extremely intimidated by.
I also met a boy. He's 21, and a transfer student from Berlin. We act like a married couple, which is ridiculous, because we've only known each other 10 days. My flatmates, affectionately, refer to him simply as 'The German', which I have now unintentionally started doing, and probably will continue to do on this blog. The German, who has blonde hair and blue eyes and lips that would make you weep, goes back to Germany at Christmas. This makes me very sad. But right now, it's beautiful. And totally unexpected.
I'm also rather alarmed not to be weighing myself at all, which has led to some anxiety over the past few days, as I'm convinced I've gained. Technically speaking, the only 'bingeing' I've done has been on alcohol, which generally makes me lose, but I guess I don't trust my own eyes anymore. I've been trying to go by how my jeans fit, and they seem to fit the same. So logically, I've maintained. Emotionally, I'm huge. Now that my timetable has picked up I'm aiming to create some sort of plan I can stick to. In an ideal world, I'd like to survive off fat-free plain yogurt, diet coke, coffee, and either a sandwich or soup for dinner depending on how hungry I am/how cold it is. I've also re-discovered my love for Quaker's Instant Oats and Caesar salad, so those may be factored in too. I seem to struggle when I have too many options, as I want to eat everything. So less variety is probably better, and in smaller, more controlled amounts than I have been allowing myself. It'll be okay. I hope.
That's all for now. Need to find a cosy jumper to go with these leggings, and then heading in to nursery for three hours of yelling like a wild boar.
I also met a boy. He's 21, and a transfer student from Berlin. We act like a married couple, which is ridiculous, because we've only known each other 10 days. My flatmates, affectionately, refer to him simply as 'The German', which I have now unintentionally started doing, and probably will continue to do on this blog. The German, who has blonde hair and blue eyes and lips that would make you weep, goes back to Germany at Christmas. This makes me very sad. But right now, it's beautiful. And totally unexpected.
I'm also rather alarmed not to be weighing myself at all, which has led to some anxiety over the past few days, as I'm convinced I've gained. Technically speaking, the only 'bingeing' I've done has been on alcohol, which generally makes me lose, but I guess I don't trust my own eyes anymore. I've been trying to go by how my jeans fit, and they seem to fit the same. So logically, I've maintained. Emotionally, I'm huge. Now that my timetable has picked up I'm aiming to create some sort of plan I can stick to. In an ideal world, I'd like to survive off fat-free plain yogurt, diet coke, coffee, and either a sandwich or soup for dinner depending on how hungry I am/how cold it is. I've also re-discovered my love for Quaker's Instant Oats and Caesar salad, so those may be factored in too. I seem to struggle when I have too many options, as I want to eat everything. So less variety is probably better, and in smaller, more controlled amounts than I have been allowing myself. It'll be okay. I hope.
That's all for now. Need to find a cosy jumper to go with these leggings, and then heading in to nursery for three hours of yelling like a wild boar.
Saturday, 14 September 2013
Strange kettle of fish
I love my internship. I feel heartbroken that I have to finish work next Thursday, and I'm also dreading my birthday a little bit. Because I'm turning 20, and that means I should probably have lost some weight by now. Which I haven't. Evidently.
The idea of Fresher's is also freaking me out. Because it was sort of my aim to be tiny be then, and I'm not tiny, I'm 148 lbs. Fuck.
Trying to get the weight off isn't really working out either... I had coco pops for breakfast. Not exactly gonna shed the pounds eating chocolate before 11am, am I? I should probably start living off soup and salad for the next two weeks, with the small chance that I might actually weigh under 140 by the time uni starts. But I probably can't be bothered. I don't know. Maybe it will be easier when I actually get there. Maybe I'll grow up and realise that 5 packets of crisps at 2am won't get me anywhere, but then again who knows... it's the unpredictability that gets me, and of course the dreaded 'Freshman Fifteen' constantly lurking at the back of my mind.
The weird thing is, I've realised that I don't actually like food anymore. Well, maybe I don't like the food I eat anymore. These days, there are only a few staple items I still derive pleasure from consuming*, and they hardly constitute the perfect diet. I'm constantly after the ULTIMATE flavour, the 'perfect food'... something that's cheap, low-cal, satisfies all my cravings and fills me up. But that doesn't exist. Does it? I used to think soup was the perfect food for the fact that it was cheap, yummy and low-cal. But I can't be bothered to make soup, because it's not that great. It doesn't make my taste buds explode, and I probably don't get much satisfaction from it besides temporarily warming up. Then there are things like sushi, which obviously taste amazing and are satisfying, but it's rarely cheap, and I don't know any uni student that can afford to live off a diet primarily made up of vegetarian sushi. You'd think that because I'm disinterested in food, I'd be eating less. But I'm not. I'm eating more than ever, shovelling things in, hoping they'll satisfy my oral fixation. I eat a lot of crisps and chocolate these days, which isn't great. I try and replace it with raw almonds and dried fruit and things that may have some health benefit, but it's not the same. I'm obsessed with salt. Something has to be really salty or sweet for me to be satisfied. It's ridiculous.
Anyway, a bit up in arms, but coping. Need to buy kitchenware today. Super fun. I'm happy to be back on this blog, though. It's a comfort.
*These items would probably comprise of: Starbucks coffee (namely sugar-free vanilla soy cappuccinos, and gingerbread lattes, which aren't actually out yet as it's still technically summer). Goats' cheese, walnut and honey salads, which I don't think you can even buy in London... hangover from LA, I guess. Diet coke, copious amounts, must be ice cold (and preferably in a tall McDonalds cup with a straw). Pumpkin croquette, inari nigiri and edamame boxes from Wasabi, which cost a small fortune. And menthol cigarettes. Of course. I suck.
The idea of Fresher's is also freaking me out. Because it was sort of my aim to be tiny be then, and I'm not tiny, I'm 148 lbs. Fuck.
Trying to get the weight off isn't really working out either... I had coco pops for breakfast. Not exactly gonna shed the pounds eating chocolate before 11am, am I? I should probably start living off soup and salad for the next two weeks, with the small chance that I might actually weigh under 140 by the time uni starts. But I probably can't be bothered. I don't know. Maybe it will be easier when I actually get there. Maybe I'll grow up and realise that 5 packets of crisps at 2am won't get me anywhere, but then again who knows... it's the unpredictability that gets me, and of course the dreaded 'Freshman Fifteen' constantly lurking at the back of my mind.
The weird thing is, I've realised that I don't actually like food anymore. Well, maybe I don't like the food I eat anymore. These days, there are only a few staple items I still derive pleasure from consuming*, and they hardly constitute the perfect diet. I'm constantly after the ULTIMATE flavour, the 'perfect food'... something that's cheap, low-cal, satisfies all my cravings and fills me up. But that doesn't exist. Does it? I used to think soup was the perfect food for the fact that it was cheap, yummy and low-cal. But I can't be bothered to make soup, because it's not that great. It doesn't make my taste buds explode, and I probably don't get much satisfaction from it besides temporarily warming up. Then there are things like sushi, which obviously taste amazing and are satisfying, but it's rarely cheap, and I don't know any uni student that can afford to live off a diet primarily made up of vegetarian sushi. You'd think that because I'm disinterested in food, I'd be eating less. But I'm not. I'm eating more than ever, shovelling things in, hoping they'll satisfy my oral fixation. I eat a lot of crisps and chocolate these days, which isn't great. I try and replace it with raw almonds and dried fruit and things that may have some health benefit, but it's not the same. I'm obsessed with salt. Something has to be really salty or sweet for me to be satisfied. It's ridiculous.
Anyway, a bit up in arms, but coping. Need to buy kitchenware today. Super fun. I'm happy to be back on this blog, though. It's a comfort.
Tuesday, 10 September 2013
The College Food Pyramid
General rant... I don't think my body is capable of maintaining. I fluctuate so damn much that it's near impossible to stick to anything and I get so disheartened when I think I'm maintaining, then suddenly I'm back up the scale without much explanation, and get triggered into binge eating again. Sigh. How are you?
I rarely post on this blog anymore. It's sad because I used to write avidly on here, documenting every incremental change on the scale, every moment, every feeling. Honestly, sometimes I actually use my archives to remember when stuff happened. I think all my major life events starting from late 2011 up to the present date are documented on here, which is insane.
I'm 147.8 lbs right now. That's horrible. I don't even have time to get upset about it, though. My work schedule is hectic and demanding as hell. I didn't think I was even capable of working this hard. I finish next Thursday, then Friday it's my birthday. And that, readers, is terrifying.
I rarely post on this blog anymore. It's sad because I used to write avidly on here, documenting every incremental change on the scale, every moment, every feeling. Honestly, sometimes I actually use my archives to remember when stuff happened. I think all my major life events starting from late 2011 up to the present date are documented on here, which is insane.
I'm 147.8 lbs right now. That's horrible. I don't even have time to get upset about it, though. My work schedule is hectic and demanding as hell. I didn't think I was even capable of working this hard. I finish next Thursday, then Friday it's my birthday. And that, readers, is terrifying.
Monday, 26 August 2013
Update on life
There are so many things I want to write about sometimes, but I often wonder how I'm going to phrase it, if there's any point, if anyone will listen, etc. Quite a few things have been going on though, so I feel like even if these posts do go unnoticed, there'll be out there, and my mind can settle a little bit, having written it down.
I can't work out if I'm happy or sad at the moment or just... nothing. My diagnosis finally came through: it's confirmed, I have ADD inattentive-type with possible characteristics of bipolar type 2. My psychiatrist put me on Ritalin. This has not made my mother happy. In explaining that it has made a world of difference to me, and my ability to focus and remain stable, I only received negativity in response. She thinks it's all bullshit. Never mind about the years and years I've spent wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Never mind that every school report from secondary school confirms, proves what I was suspecting, and never mind that two medical professionals have agreed on my diagnosis. I guess my mother has been through so much that any problem is now 'normalised' for her. I'm not allowed to be depressed or ill anymore, I'm not allowed to try to understand what is going on in my own head, otherwise I'm instantly branded as attention-seeking, looking for validation, or 'navel-gazing'. All this has led to constant snapping and arguing, which makes me feel monumentally awful, considering how well I thought we were doing.
It would be easy to say I'm feeling depressed, but the truth is, I'm more frustrated than anything else. I started an internship at the beginning of last week around the same time as starting the pills, and I think I concentrated better and worked harder in those five days than I did the whole of my A level year at school. I was on such a 'high' from how brilliantly my week had gone, and proud, in a way, that I'd gotten through it - and that high was crushed by the supreme lack of support coming from my mum. I got a chill yesterday night, and as a result I'm currently holed up in bed with copious amounts of cough sweets, sudafed, and icy diet coke. It sucks; I want to be well, and I want to be working. Not only am I terrified I'll be too ill to go to my job tomorrow, but I have this uneasy feeling that all of last week was a fluke. That my body just can't handle working from 10am-7pm every day, and every time I try, I'll get ill. No matter how many pills I pop, how many vitamins I take, how well I eat, I'll just crash and burn eventually. This kind of morbid, dead-end thought train is one I'm used to, and I know it's unproductive. I just can't help thinking that's me, my life, my future, and I'm fucked, basically.
Well, on a better note, I've managed to maintain a steady 145 lbs. It feels good to be able to stay in my 'safe region' without much effort and I can definitely see the change in my body since two months ago. I don't know if I have a goal weight. I don't think it would be helpful to make one, because I am too apathetic to aim for anything as concrete as a number right now. I just know that I want to vaguely skinnier by the time uni starts. And that Ritalin appears to have a handy side-effect of eliminating my appetite all day, but that's a whole other kettle of fish.
I can't work out if I'm happy or sad at the moment or just... nothing. My diagnosis finally came through: it's confirmed, I have ADD inattentive-type with possible characteristics of bipolar type 2. My psychiatrist put me on Ritalin. This has not made my mother happy. In explaining that it has made a world of difference to me, and my ability to focus and remain stable, I only received negativity in response. She thinks it's all bullshit. Never mind about the years and years I've spent wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Never mind that every school report from secondary school confirms, proves what I was suspecting, and never mind that two medical professionals have agreed on my diagnosis. I guess my mother has been through so much that any problem is now 'normalised' for her. I'm not allowed to be depressed or ill anymore, I'm not allowed to try to understand what is going on in my own head, otherwise I'm instantly branded as attention-seeking, looking for validation, or 'navel-gazing'. All this has led to constant snapping and arguing, which makes me feel monumentally awful, considering how well I thought we were doing.
It would be easy to say I'm feeling depressed, but the truth is, I'm more frustrated than anything else. I started an internship at the beginning of last week around the same time as starting the pills, and I think I concentrated better and worked harder in those five days than I did the whole of my A level year at school. I was on such a 'high' from how brilliantly my week had gone, and proud, in a way, that I'd gotten through it - and that high was crushed by the supreme lack of support coming from my mum. I got a chill yesterday night, and as a result I'm currently holed up in bed with copious amounts of cough sweets, sudafed, and icy diet coke. It sucks; I want to be well, and I want to be working. Not only am I terrified I'll be too ill to go to my job tomorrow, but I have this uneasy feeling that all of last week was a fluke. That my body just can't handle working from 10am-7pm every day, and every time I try, I'll get ill. No matter how many pills I pop, how many vitamins I take, how well I eat, I'll just crash and burn eventually. This kind of morbid, dead-end thought train is one I'm used to, and I know it's unproductive. I just can't help thinking that's me, my life, my future, and I'm fucked, basically.
Well, on a better note, I've managed to maintain a steady 145 lbs. It feels good to be able to stay in my 'safe region' without much effort and I can definitely see the change in my body since two months ago. I don't know if I have a goal weight. I don't think it would be helpful to make one, because I am too apathetic to aim for anything as concrete as a number right now. I just know that I want to vaguely skinnier by the time uni starts. And that Ritalin appears to have a handy side-effect of eliminating my appetite all day, but that's a whole other kettle of fish.
Thursday, 15 August 2013
My grocery list concerns me
Do you ever have those supermarket shops where everything you pick up seems to be oddly, unintentionally ED-orientated? I just had one of those shops. I met Tina for a late-night coffee (I hadn't seen her in weeks, due to overlapping vacations and lack of time) - it was lovely, and we caught up on everything. Decided to go for a swan around Tesco's - casual trippy 10pm supermarket times, as you do. We walked around all the aisles, plucking things off the shelves as we went. It was more of an excuse to hang out in the warm, more than anything. I barely concentrated on what I picked up, until checkout, when I realised everything I'd selected was either low-calorie, fat-free, or just plain eating disordered. I had picked up those mini cans of tuna, the ones with 54cals per tin (granted, I've been craving those for ages, but I didn't get the normal tins, I got the ones I get when I'm restricting). Also on my grocery list: fat-free strawberry yogurt, bran cereal, rice cakes, hot sauce (the Ocal kind), sugarfree jelly, salted cashews, Thai noodle cup-a-soup (also 54cals), and diet coke.
The thing that concerns me is that I didn't even pay attention to what I was taking off the shelves. It's like I was on autopilot or something. HOW ON EARTH am I going to manage at university, if my sub-conscious default is to select these kinds of foods? I mean, I don't even think I have to compare calories on packaging anymore. I know nutritional labels so well, it's almost an unconscious reflex to pick up the lowest-calorie, lowest-fat products without even having to think about it. This scares me a little bit, because it actually takes more effort and thought to select 'normal' foods that a 'normal' person would eat from a supermarket, than to come out with the most disordered grocery shop I could muster.
Another note on this: I think I'm becoming a food hoarder. Like, not even joking: I buy cans of soup for our cupboard even though there's already like, 8 untouched tins in there. I've got cream of tomato, leek and potato, mushroom, Chinese broth, tinned chopped tomatoes (basically soup), baked beans (in a soup-like can), now these Thai cup-a-soups, on top of my extensive collection of Light Choices vegetable cup-a-soups (which contain enough sodium to kill a small dog). Do I need more soup? -No. Am I on a special soup diet? -No. Am I preparing rations for hibernation? -Hardly. So my compulsive soup-buying behaviour disturbs me. I'm also the same with portioned packets of diet hot chocolate, sweetener sachets from Starbucks, and, recently, yogurt.
Little worried here.
Haven't checked my weight in two days. Probably a good thing, but feels fucking terrifying.
The thing that concerns me is that I didn't even pay attention to what I was taking off the shelves. It's like I was on autopilot or something. HOW ON EARTH am I going to manage at university, if my sub-conscious default is to select these kinds of foods? I mean, I don't even think I have to compare calories on packaging anymore. I know nutritional labels so well, it's almost an unconscious reflex to pick up the lowest-calorie, lowest-fat products without even having to think about it. This scares me a little bit, because it actually takes more effort and thought to select 'normal' foods that a 'normal' person would eat from a supermarket, than to come out with the most disordered grocery shop I could muster.
Another note on this: I think I'm becoming a food hoarder. Like, not even joking: I buy cans of soup for our cupboard even though there's already like, 8 untouched tins in there. I've got cream of tomato, leek and potato, mushroom, Chinese broth, tinned chopped tomatoes (basically soup), baked beans (in a soup-like can), now these Thai cup-a-soups, on top of my extensive collection of Light Choices vegetable cup-a-soups (which contain enough sodium to kill a small dog). Do I need more soup? -No. Am I on a special soup diet? -No. Am I preparing rations for hibernation? -Hardly. So my compulsive soup-buying behaviour disturbs me. I'm also the same with portioned packets of diet hot chocolate, sweetener sachets from Starbucks, and, recently, yogurt.
Little worried here.
Haven't checked my weight in two days. Probably a good thing, but feels fucking terrifying.
Monday, 12 August 2013
This time last year...
I read back on some old posts from this time last year, circa my tonsillectomy. This exact day last year, I weighed exactly the same as I do today. 146 lbs. It's not even depressing, in fact, it was quite a relief that 'at least I hadn't gained'. It brought about a certain comfort, that I was back there again, and therefore, perhaps, could proceed in a similar way to before. Only this time, I plan on keeping the weight off, and I'm not aiming for something ridiculous.
I need to emotionally break myself off from the last few years of my life. I have to stop indulging fantasy-type memories of relationships I had that were TRULY toxic, such as with Charlie and Rebecca. I keep glorifying and romanticising my time with them as if they were the best years of my life, but they really weren't. They were the worst. I was at my most psychologically unwell when I was friends with Rebecca, and she made it worse. We were terrible for each other. Charlie isn't a nice person anymore, and she probably caused me the most damage last year out of everyone. I cannot continue to idolise them and reminisce and wish I were friends with them again. I cannot aspire to be like them anymore, I cannot live in this permanent state of nostalgia which ultimately winds me up depressed, and hating myself with a passion.
It's time to build myself back up again, nurture myself, and live for ME, not for anyone else. If I'm going to be depressed, I want to be depressed about MY stuff. I can't factor them into that depression on top of everything else. They will no longer have an effect on my mind like that, and I will no longer wither at the thought of what 'Rebecca and Charlie are doing without me'. It makes me weak, and I can't afford that, not now. I need to be strong, I need to be fit, and I need to be good to myself (and the people around me who truly care).
After making plans all day to starve myself again, I deleted all I'd written, and started afresh. I dug out my favourite fitness blogs that I used to follow. I decided I'm going to start exercising and practicing yoga again. I vowed to give up smoking, and chucked out my pack. And I felt a little better.
I need to emotionally break myself off from the last few years of my life. I have to stop indulging fantasy-type memories of relationships I had that were TRULY toxic, such as with Charlie and Rebecca. I keep glorifying and romanticising my time with them as if they were the best years of my life, but they really weren't. They were the worst. I was at my most psychologically unwell when I was friends with Rebecca, and she made it worse. We were terrible for each other. Charlie isn't a nice person anymore, and she probably caused me the most damage last year out of everyone. I cannot continue to idolise them and reminisce and wish I were friends with them again. I cannot aspire to be like them anymore, I cannot live in this permanent state of nostalgia which ultimately winds me up depressed, and hating myself with a passion.
It's time to build myself back up again, nurture myself, and live for ME, not for anyone else. If I'm going to be depressed, I want to be depressed about MY stuff. I can't factor them into that depression on top of everything else. They will no longer have an effect on my mind like that, and I will no longer wither at the thought of what 'Rebecca and Charlie are doing without me'. It makes me weak, and I can't afford that, not now. I need to be strong, I need to be fit, and I need to be good to myself (and the people around me who truly care).
After making plans all day to starve myself again, I deleted all I'd written, and started afresh. I dug out my favourite fitness blogs that I used to follow. I decided I'm going to start exercising and practicing yoga again. I vowed to give up smoking, and chucked out my pack. And I felt a little better.
Sunday, 11 August 2013
I’ve been 145 for days, and it has frustrated the hell out of me. I want to drop these last 9 lbs so it can just be over, and I can concentrate on other things besides weight loss.
I worked out that when I'm back down to 136, my BMI will be at 20.1. The disordered part of me senses I’ll still be discontent with that, but it’ll be a lot better than where I am now.
I just want to buy pretty clothes and shoes and to feel confident in my own skin again. I’ve already dropped a stone, so why is this last stretch proving so difficult?
Ate a shit ton today already, and out of cigarettes.
Breakfast: Slice of Nimble toast with peanut butter + fat free lemon yogurt (240 cals)
Lunch: Nakd cocoa orange bar + Seattle latte + 2 packets of Hula Hoops :/ (560 cals)
Snack: Jaffa cakes x2 + diet coke (140 cals)
Dinner (yet to have): Butternut squash soup (160 cals)
Total: 1,100 calories
I worked out that when I'm back down to 136, my BMI will be at 20.1. The disordered part of me senses I’ll still be discontent with that, but it’ll be a lot better than where I am now.
I just want to buy pretty clothes and shoes and to feel confident in my own skin again. I’ve already dropped a stone, so why is this last stretch proving so difficult?
Ate a shit ton today already, and out of cigarettes.
Breakfast: Slice of Nimble toast with peanut butter + fat free lemon yogurt (240 cals)
Lunch: Nakd cocoa orange bar + Seattle latte + 2 packets of Hula Hoops :/ (560 cals)
Snack: Jaffa cakes x2 + diet coke (140 cals)
Dinner (yet to have): Butternut squash soup (160 cals)
Total: 1,100 calories
Saturday, 10 August 2013
Perfect illusions...
I come back home after a weekend away, and suddenly, I feel tiny. I'm wearing an outfit that two months ago I honestly wouldn't have been brave enough to wear - a tight long-sleeved v-neck navy top, tucked into high-waisted stretch American Apparel jeans (now baggy on me, despite the fact that I only bought them a month ago). A long-sleeved thin stripy cardi, heeled chunky suede boots, and my beloved thick-strap brown leather satchel from LA. I feel like Charlie in this outfit... maybe. My hair's tied back in a high ponytail that swishes while I walk, and I feel like I could be an off-duty dancer. I walk through the door, linger in the doorframe of the sitting room while my family sings my praise. And the funny thing is, I've eaten enough for 5 men this weekend (truckloads of sushi, crisps, vodka, tiramisu... oh, God, the tiramisu...) and I still feel thin. Because they're praising me, and I guess technically, I've lost over a stone, so I must look slimmer.
I eat more: chocolate, some red cabbage and potatoes from their roast dinner. It was delicious. Half an hour later, my body freaks out, and I die on the toilet for ten minutes. Apparently my digestive system cannot handle this quantity of food, and like clockwork, I will still be 145 in the morning. I am taking this as a good thing.
Caro and I spent the day eating, and watching Black Swan. That film is pure thinspo, I swear, and it's made me want to start dressing like a ballerina. I don't want to be perfect these days, but I wouldn't mind creating the illusion of perfection. Kind of like fooling other people into seeing pretty. I wonder if that would work.
I'm taking heed of my body's signals, and easing up on the restricting this week. I start work experience on the 19th, and I need my energy back by then. Healthy food is good, junk food is bad; but I can find a balance. I only want to lose 10 more lbs, and then I can be done, forever. I wonder if that will be enough, but I don't think I can afford to be asking myself such questions at this stage.
On another note, I'm seeing a psychiatrist on Tuesday morning. My doctors all seem to agree that I might have ADD. Guess I'll be adding that one to the list of other diagnoses... merely scribblings on paper that have neither helped nor hindered me, I suppose. Meh.
Plan for tomorrow:
Breakfast: Yogurt + slice of Nimble toast with Flora + tea
Lunch: Nakd bar + smoothie + iced coffee (seeing Caro)
Supper: Butternut squash soup + Sunbites wholegrain crisps (or fine-milled oatcakes)
Snack, optional: Options hot chocolate + 2 oatcakes with Dairylea
It sort of looks like my old recovery food plans. Which is strangely comforting, for reasons very unknown to me.
I eat more: chocolate, some red cabbage and potatoes from their roast dinner. It was delicious. Half an hour later, my body freaks out, and I die on the toilet for ten minutes. Apparently my digestive system cannot handle this quantity of food, and like clockwork, I will still be 145 in the morning. I am taking this as a good thing.
Caro and I spent the day eating, and watching Black Swan. That film is pure thinspo, I swear, and it's made me want to start dressing like a ballerina. I don't want to be perfect these days, but I wouldn't mind creating the illusion of perfection. Kind of like fooling other people into seeing pretty. I wonder if that would work.
I'm taking heed of my body's signals, and easing up on the restricting this week. I start work experience on the 19th, and I need my energy back by then. Healthy food is good, junk food is bad; but I can find a balance. I only want to lose 10 more lbs, and then I can be done, forever. I wonder if that will be enough, but I don't think I can afford to be asking myself such questions at this stage.
On another note, I'm seeing a psychiatrist on Tuesday morning. My doctors all seem to agree that I might have ADD. Guess I'll be adding that one to the list of other diagnoses... merely scribblings on paper that have neither helped nor hindered me, I suppose. Meh.
Plan for tomorrow:
Breakfast: Yogurt + slice of Nimble toast with Flora + tea
Lunch: Nakd bar + smoothie + iced coffee (seeing Caro)
Supper: Butternut squash soup + Sunbites wholegrain crisps (or fine-milled oatcakes)
Snack, optional: Options hot chocolate + 2 oatcakes with Dairylea
It sort of looks like my old recovery food plans. Which is strangely comforting, for reasons very unknown to me.
Friday, 9 August 2013
Sushi party
I'm maintaining 145 lbs eating around 1,000 calories a day. I'm shooting for a bit less than that, but I've made a decision to only lose 9 more lbs. 136 is my new 'goal'. I've been there before, and I can be there again, I'm confident. My new diet will consist of good, nourishing foods: soups, sushi, porridge, good oils from things like olives and sundried tomatoes (my new favourite thing), reduced fat cheese, lots of fresh salad veggies, tuna, tea, fruit. When I reach 136, I'll be switching back to the kind of health-freak diet I was eating last August combined with exercise, in order to maintain my weight loss. I can work on maintaining before I go to uni, safe in the knowledge that when I go away, I won't be piling on pounds the minute I start a new lifestyle.
Tonight is Caro's birthday, which will involve copious amounts of sushi. YUM. It's so odd that she's only turning 19, when in a month I will be turning 20. Strangely, I feel like she is the older one.
Well I'm seriously late for helping her pick up her cake from the centre of town, so I need to hop in a shower ASAP. Sorry for the brief and boring update, I'll let you know how the party goes though :)
Tonight is Caro's birthday, which will involve copious amounts of sushi. YUM. It's so odd that she's only turning 19, when in a month I will be turning 20. Strangely, I feel like she is the older one.
Well I'm seriously late for helping her pick up her cake from the centre of town, so I need to hop in a shower ASAP. Sorry for the brief and boring update, I'll let you know how the party goes though :)
Wednesday, 7 August 2013
Back in control
I'm currently sitting at my desk with a giant mug of lemon squash (5 calories), listening to the Shawshank Redemption soundtrack, and dying for a cigarette, of which I have none. It's so time for me to cut down again.
Yesterday, I ate around 800 calories, but dropped another pound. I'm down to 145 again, and it's weird to think I'm only 3 lbs off pre-Amsterdam weight. I feel 'slim' here. Not thin, but 'slim', and perhaps I could feel happy with that for a while. Maybe it's because I was in the 150s for the better part of this year, and the drop has made me feel smaller than I am? But I've lost a stone since my high point a couple of months ago, and it's a good feeling.
I'm totally in control of this. I can take it however fast or slowly I'd like. I don't hate my body, and I'm not desperate to shed 'layers and layers of icky fat'. I know I want to be in the 130s again, eventually, but I have two whole months to do that, and then I'm moving out of this mould for good. It's chill.
The plan, as it stands, is to alternate between 600 and 800 calories every couple of days to keep my metabolism from completely failing on me. Today and tomorrow will be 600 days, Friday I'll allow myself 800 as it's Caro's birthday. We'll be having sushi, cake and Smirnoff Gold cinnamon vodka shots :o It's gonna be insane. And I am not going to get too drunk, like I did on the last night of Portugal. Ohhh no.
Was lovely to hear from a couple of you on my last post :) I'm going to catch up on everyone's blogs tomorrow, as I have a ton of inoculations this afternoon :/ Dead-arm times, yay.
Monday, 5 August 2013
A month too long
I just got back from Portugal, and I'm tired. Weight loss has happened. I'm now back down to 147 lbs, which feels positively surreal, but I'm happy about it. I'm back on the restricting train. I was abroad with my mum, her boyfriend, her son, my sister, and Caro. It was lovely. We swam, played tennis, went to the beach, and ate high-protein, nutritious European meals. There was no room for bingeing or useless overeating at night, because I was around someone all the time. Is it too soon to say I might be over bingeing? Because I haven't binged since before we left for LA, at the end of June, and that is a very long time for me.
With regret, I've also found myself drifting away from this blog. I am so out of touch with this world, I've forgotten how salubrious it can feel to get everything out in writing. I did write on holiday - pages and pages, although I'm not entirely sure if they mean anything, or say anything remotely important about what's been happening. I don't know if any old followers still read this journal, but if you are one of those long-time readers of mine, you'll remember who Rebecca was, in all her twisted glory. For the new ones, Rebecca was a friend I had back at school, and we had a very complex and intense friendship made almost impossible to maintain due to respective eating disorders, and the competition/destruction that arose between us because of them. Early 2012 we parted ways, right around the time I was in hospital, and none of us ever heard a word from her again.
When I was LA, I received a message from her. It was long and rambly and apologetic, and she went into excessive detail about how bad she felt about leaving, how she was off to McGill in August and needed to make amends before she left for good. I was shell-shocked, to say the least, We stroke up a conversation, and we ended up pouring out to each other. She suggested meeting up in the last week of July, and with a nervous excitement, I agreed it would be good to see each other. On the day, she stood me up, with no word since explaining what happened. It did exactly what Caro warned me would happen: it fucked me up inside. And I've been slightly fucked up ever since, especially since learning that she and Charlie are now incredibly close - a disheartening, off-kiltering, jitter-inducing nugget of information.
But moving on from that - I'm concentrating on the good things in my life. I love my family. I love them so, so much - and I love that my family keeps growing as the months go on. I'm off to uni at the end of September, which I am incredibly excited (and nervous) about, but I know it'll be a fantastic experience, and I'll finally be able to knuckle down to work at a subject I love, not to mention meet some new people. And, strangely, I feel like I have control of my weight for the first time in a while. I'm thrilled not to be in the high 150s anymore. Looking back, I don't know how I let myself out of the house. And while 147 is a number I've always considered high, it feels very comforting to be back at this goalpost. Because I know that I've gone from 147 to 144 to 140 very easily in the past - the proof is in this blog. And I will do that again.
I'm definitely planning on updating more from now on. I'm doing 600 calories a day for now, and it helps to chart it up somewhere, to mark progress.
I don't know if anyone will read this, or be interested, seeing as I've been gone so long, and my past updates have been extremely sporadic. But it would be great to see if there are any of you still out there. If you are, let me know.
xxx
With regret, I've also found myself drifting away from this blog. I am so out of touch with this world, I've forgotten how salubrious it can feel to get everything out in writing. I did write on holiday - pages and pages, although I'm not entirely sure if they mean anything, or say anything remotely important about what's been happening. I don't know if any old followers still read this journal, but if you are one of those long-time readers of mine, you'll remember who Rebecca was, in all her twisted glory. For the new ones, Rebecca was a friend I had back at school, and we had a very complex and intense friendship made almost impossible to maintain due to respective eating disorders, and the competition/destruction that arose between us because of them. Early 2012 we parted ways, right around the time I was in hospital, and none of us ever heard a word from her again.
When I was LA, I received a message from her. It was long and rambly and apologetic, and she went into excessive detail about how bad she felt about leaving, how she was off to McGill in August and needed to make amends before she left for good. I was shell-shocked, to say the least, We stroke up a conversation, and we ended up pouring out to each other. She suggested meeting up in the last week of July, and with a nervous excitement, I agreed it would be good to see each other. On the day, she stood me up, with no word since explaining what happened. It did exactly what Caro warned me would happen: it fucked me up inside. And I've been slightly fucked up ever since, especially since learning that she and Charlie are now incredibly close - a disheartening, off-kiltering, jitter-inducing nugget of information.
But moving on from that - I'm concentrating on the good things in my life. I love my family. I love them so, so much - and I love that my family keeps growing as the months go on. I'm off to uni at the end of September, which I am incredibly excited (and nervous) about, but I know it'll be a fantastic experience, and I'll finally be able to knuckle down to work at a subject I love, not to mention meet some new people. And, strangely, I feel like I have control of my weight for the first time in a while. I'm thrilled not to be in the high 150s anymore. Looking back, I don't know how I let myself out of the house. And while 147 is a number I've always considered high, it feels very comforting to be back at this goalpost. Because I know that I've gone from 147 to 144 to 140 very easily in the past - the proof is in this blog. And I will do that again.
I'm definitely planning on updating more from now on. I'm doing 600 calories a day for now, and it helps to chart it up somewhere, to mark progress.
I don't know if anyone will read this, or be interested, seeing as I've been gone so long, and my past updates have been extremely sporadic. But it would be great to see if there are any of you still out there. If you are, let me know.
xxx
Friday, 5 July 2013
Latent in Los Angeles
My time here so far has been relaxed, and I'm inclined to say healing, although that may be a stretch. It definitely feels good to get some sun - and for it to be the norm to stock up on raw spirulina bars, Arizona green tea, watermelon and fat-free yogurt as opposed to soup and low-calorie carbs. I won't lie when I say that food is all I think about here. Can you blame me? I'm either shopping, ogling at skinny, tan girls who have lived here for ten years; lying on a beach wondering why my pasty thighs still touch at the top; or scouring supermarket shelves for the best brand of kale chips. It's a very image, weight, diet-obsessed culture, and I kind of like it, but I think I'd go mad if I had to endure more than a month here.
I'm tired, is the problem. A little tired of myself, perhaps, or the thoughts in my head. Tired because I sleep too long, tired because I know I'll hate myself with a vengeance once I'm back in London, with no excuse for a lack of direction. The one thing that's keeping me going is knowing that when I return, I'll only have to wait two months before moving in to my university accommodation, which is definitively exciting and 'new'.
Spending time with my dad and sister is beneficial. I don't miss my home life as much as I thought I would, which I find to be mildly depressing, but also invigorating, refreshing, and liberating. From this, I know that I'll be OK when I finally leave. Maybe not fantastic 100% of the time, but OK. Coping.
I've not had many chances to weigh here, except on the Wii Fit, which I don't trust. It says I'm 148 lbs. There's a slight possibility that's true, I guess, but when I look down at my stomach, I have big doubts.
I'm tired, is the problem. A little tired of myself, perhaps, or the thoughts in my head. Tired because I sleep too long, tired because I know I'll hate myself with a vengeance once I'm back in London, with no excuse for a lack of direction. The one thing that's keeping me going is knowing that when I return, I'll only have to wait two months before moving in to my university accommodation, which is definitively exciting and 'new'.
Spending time with my dad and sister is beneficial. I don't miss my home life as much as I thought I would, which I find to be mildly depressing, but also invigorating, refreshing, and liberating. From this, I know that I'll be OK when I finally leave. Maybe not fantastic 100% of the time, but OK. Coping.
I've not had many chances to weigh here, except on the Wii Fit, which I don't trust. It says I'm 148 lbs. There's a slight possibility that's true, I guess, but when I look down at my stomach, I have big doubts.
Monday, 24 June 2013
Changing
Paris did exactly what it was supposed to. It calmed me, collected me, and provided me with all the fabulous espressos and Dijon mustard I wanted. I'm back up to 157, but I don't care. It's food weight from the amount of Carambars I consumed yesterday on the journey home. Plus, I hop on a plane tomorrow to LA, and I am getting my ass in gear. My regime there, I have decided, will consist of lots of fresh produce, vegan health foods, green tea, protein shakes and Fiber-One cereal - along with a shit ton of exercise, and daily sweats in the sauna. It'll clear me out, and that's what I need. I need to be cleared out until all the poisonous chaos inside my head is finally swept along with a broom, never to be seen or heard from again.
Alfie texted me today. I didn't respond. I haven't heard from him in over a month, and the things I discovered about him through mutual friends (ones that have my best interests at heart) are hardly tasteful. Caro says I should leave it altogether, and I'm inclined to agree with her. I haven't been treated well, and while in the past there was a definite time and a place for self-destructive, toxic codependency, currently, I'd rather surround myself with people who actually give a damn about my emotional wellbeing. Following that, I am no longer in love with him as I used to be. And so I see very little reason to give him the satisfaction of responding to a complaining, narcissistic, whiny message about how neglected his ego feels.
I'm feeling strong, and like I can grasp the next month with all my strength. I am reading tons, and it's giving me a great distraction from my body. But in Los Angeles I will become whole, at one with myself, and build some armour for my looming late-summer departure. I might... dare I say it,... be changing.
Alfie texted me today. I didn't respond. I haven't heard from him in over a month, and the things I discovered about him through mutual friends (ones that have my best interests at heart) are hardly tasteful. Caro says I should leave it altogether, and I'm inclined to agree with her. I haven't been treated well, and while in the past there was a definite time and a place for self-destructive, toxic codependency, currently, I'd rather surround myself with people who actually give a damn about my emotional wellbeing. Following that, I am no longer in love with him as I used to be. And so I see very little reason to give him the satisfaction of responding to a complaining, narcissistic, whiny message about how neglected his ego feels.
I'm feeling strong, and like I can grasp the next month with all my strength. I am reading tons, and it's giving me a great distraction from my body. But in Los Angeles I will become whole, at one with myself, and build some armour for my looming late-summer departure. I might... dare I say it,... be changing.
Friday, 14 June 2013
Tears and Triumph
I had hoped that my '1200 calories a day' plan was going to take off, but as usual, being the failure compulsive-eater that I am, I started eating late at night again, and the whole scale tipped off balance. Wednesday night I had the worst waitressing shift of my life... I was alone, catering for a room of 27 'royal guests' by myself, and they were all unbelievably rude to me. Not only that, but I had to carry a ton of heavy crates up and down this big industrial lift, and completely did my back in. When I came home I just cried and cried and stuffed my face, before cancelling the rest of my shifts for this month.
Yesterday I cried all day long, and I'm not even kidding when I say I must have re-applied my makeup around 20 times. I cried the minute I woke up, when I saw Tina for breakfast, when I came back home from seeing Tina; I cried in the car for an hour while waiting for my mum, cried when she came back, cried when I slammed my fingers in a kitchen drawer, and proceeded to cry on and off all evening until there were no tears left to cry.
However, yesterday - despite its awfulness - was the first day in weeks where I didn't binge, or even eat past 8pm at night. I was sitting there in my room with my book, having just had my soup for dinner, waiting for it to happen. And I actually got up and went down to the kitchen at around 10, but stalled myself by making a hot drink, and drinking it outside until the binge urge went away. I haven't been able to control my actions like that in a long time, so I felt proud. And the upside was that I ended up going to bed earlier (midnight, which is freakishly early for me) because I didn't have to wait up to digest any food I'd consumed at 1am, and nor did I have much reason to stay up any longer.
This morning, I'm back down to 155 (I was up to 157 on Wednesday - yuck), and I'm following my mother's advice of eating 3 meals a day with no snacks in between (or more importantly, no snacks after). I have woken up with what I believe from experience is the beginnings of a sinus cold, so I'm calling it a day with the smoking - although this is going to make the 'no snacking' thing fairly difficult, as a cigarette is the next best thing.
I've had a healthy breakfast - fat-free vanilla yogurt with dried fruit and oats, and a Savse raw smoothie with strawberry, orange, celery, kale and spinach (yum). At around 2.30 I'm going to Tina's house for a Buffy marathon. Woop. I'm planning on buying a huge pack of fresh salad and a fat-free dressing, and just munching on that over the course of the afternoon. There will also be coffee, and probably a large amount of diet coke, which is fine. Then this evening I'll either have another lentil soup with grated parmesan, or baked beans, or this low-cal frozen burrito I have at home. And then that will be it. I proved to myself yesterday I didn't need to binge, even when I was feeling upset and lonely all day long. So this evening, I definitely don't need to.
Love, peace and Buffy
<3
Yesterday I cried all day long, and I'm not even kidding when I say I must have re-applied my makeup around 20 times. I cried the minute I woke up, when I saw Tina for breakfast, when I came back home from seeing Tina; I cried in the car for an hour while waiting for my mum, cried when she came back, cried when I slammed my fingers in a kitchen drawer, and proceeded to cry on and off all evening until there were no tears left to cry.
However, yesterday - despite its awfulness - was the first day in weeks where I didn't binge, or even eat past 8pm at night. I was sitting there in my room with my book, having just had my soup for dinner, waiting for it to happen. And I actually got up and went down to the kitchen at around 10, but stalled myself by making a hot drink, and drinking it outside until the binge urge went away. I haven't been able to control my actions like that in a long time, so I felt proud. And the upside was that I ended up going to bed earlier (midnight, which is freakishly early for me) because I didn't have to wait up to digest any food I'd consumed at 1am, and nor did I have much reason to stay up any longer.
This morning, I'm back down to 155 (I was up to 157 on Wednesday - yuck), and I'm following my mother's advice of eating 3 meals a day with no snacks in between (or more importantly, no snacks after). I have woken up with what I believe from experience is the beginnings of a sinus cold, so I'm calling it a day with the smoking - although this is going to make the 'no snacking' thing fairly difficult, as a cigarette is the next best thing.
I've had a healthy breakfast - fat-free vanilla yogurt with dried fruit and oats, and a Savse raw smoothie with strawberry, orange, celery, kale and spinach (yum). At around 2.30 I'm going to Tina's house for a Buffy marathon. Woop. I'm planning on buying a huge pack of fresh salad and a fat-free dressing, and just munching on that over the course of the afternoon. There will also be coffee, and probably a large amount of diet coke, which is fine. Then this evening I'll either have another lentil soup with grated parmesan, or baked beans, or this low-cal frozen burrito I have at home. And then that will be it. I proved to myself yesterday I didn't need to binge, even when I was feeling upset and lonely all day long. So this evening, I definitely don't need to.
Love, peace and Buffy
<3
Monday, 10 June 2013
1200 calories a day keeps the doctor away
As much as I hate to admit it, the past week hasn't been much of a dieting success. I veered hopelessly from restricting to bingeing on alternate days, and the result is that I'm still hovering at 155. I'm honestly getting sick of it - and I want, I need to find my 'happy medium'.
The problem is that I'm impulsive, and the sadder I feel about my weight gain, the more I tend to react with compulsive face-stuffing and constant carb-o-cide. I think my confusion stems from the fact that I can't set my mind to one task, and complete it. I'm perpetually wishy-washy about my goals, undecided on whether I want to ditch 10 lbs, 20 lbs, 40 lbs. Undecided whether or not I want to make the commitment to gaining health, or losing weight. A big part of me is surging for recovery. I'd like to embrace the way I look and move on with more important things, but every skinny girl or magazine ad I see is an ongoing reminder of what I truly 'want', and it's making things very difficult. I've spent the past few months skipping between every diet or calorie-restriction plan in existence, never once stopping to listen to what my body needs. I've encountered short, frequent bursts of 'healthy living', during which I'll eat well, avoid counting calories, choose 'good fats' and 'lean proteins' and 'wholegrain carbs', and attend the gym 4-5 times a week. But they always burn out - I always burn out, because I fall under the illusion that I don't deserve that lifestyle. That I don't deserve to treat myself nicely, go easier on myself, nourish my body. And it's ridiculous, but it's the eating disordered part of my head speaking, and as we all know, that part is more often than not VERY hard to overcome.
I know deep down that if I stop bullying myself over the way I look, and stop depriving my body in accordance, I'll cease to binge and self-destruct in the way I have been doing. This is easier said than done, of course, but I need to give it my best shot - otherwise I'll probably go insane.
The problem is that I'm impulsive, and the sadder I feel about my weight gain, the more I tend to react with compulsive face-stuffing and constant carb-o-cide. I think my confusion stems from the fact that I can't set my mind to one task, and complete it. I'm perpetually wishy-washy about my goals, undecided on whether I want to ditch 10 lbs, 20 lbs, 40 lbs. Undecided whether or not I want to make the commitment to gaining health, or losing weight. A big part of me is surging for recovery. I'd like to embrace the way I look and move on with more important things, but every skinny girl or magazine ad I see is an ongoing reminder of what I truly 'want', and it's making things very difficult. I've spent the past few months skipping between every diet or calorie-restriction plan in existence, never once stopping to listen to what my body needs. I've encountered short, frequent bursts of 'healthy living', during which I'll eat well, avoid counting calories, choose 'good fats' and 'lean proteins' and 'wholegrain carbs', and attend the gym 4-5 times a week. But they always burn out - I always burn out, because I fall under the illusion that I don't deserve that lifestyle. That I don't deserve to treat myself nicely, go easier on myself, nourish my body. And it's ridiculous, but it's the eating disordered part of my head speaking, and as we all know, that part is more often than not VERY hard to overcome.
I know deep down that if I stop bullying myself over the way I look, and stop depriving my body in accordance, I'll cease to binge and self-destruct in the way I have been doing. This is easier said than done, of course, but I need to give it my best shot - otherwise I'll probably go insane.
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
Vodka is the devil
I *may* have got mildly wasted tonight. Okay, I got mildly wasted tonight. In Bash's room, whilst trying on clothes, dancing to music, and smoking Vogues. Somehow, that becomes less classy when you have a laughing fit on the floor in your underwear, then proceed to eat cheesecake, garlic bread, Chinese crackers, and hoummous one after the other whilst trying to justify it with the fact that vodka nearly always dehydrates me and shows a lower reading on the scale the next day.
Sigh.
I was 154.4 lbs this morning, so my weight is actually going down, slowly but surely. (Probably not after tonight, though). I think I need to put some kind of plan in place that isn't a diet but more a sensible eating plan I can stick to and alter if need be. I need to get a routine in my life, even though my life isn't 'routine' - which can be hard sometimes, but there are ways around it. It would be nice to find a way to plummet myself into the 140s by the 15th or so, because I would kill right now even to be 149. This fact makes me feel like a fatty, but it's all psychological, and if I'm 147 or so by the time I leave, I'll be in a better mindset to drop weight on holiday.
PS. Thanks for the advice that you girls gave me on the skates! I'll definitely get a pair. I'm gonna practice in my local park before I go, so that when I get there I know I won't make a total fool out of myself :P
Sigh.
I was 154.4 lbs this morning, so my weight is actually going down, slowly but surely. (Probably not after tonight, though). I think I need to put some kind of plan in place that isn't a diet but more a sensible eating plan I can stick to and alter if need be. I need to get a routine in my life, even though my life isn't 'routine' - which can be hard sometimes, but there are ways around it. It would be nice to find a way to plummet myself into the 140s by the 15th or so, because I would kill right now even to be 149. This fact makes me feel like a fatty, but it's all psychological, and if I'm 147 or so by the time I leave, I'll be in a better mindset to drop weight on holiday.
PS. Thanks for the advice that you girls gave me on the skates! I'll definitely get a pair. I'm gonna practice in my local park before I go, so that when I get there I know I won't make a total fool out of myself :P
Monday, 3 June 2013
Had another good day, despite yesterday's little scale-upset. It's still boiling in London, to the point where it's got uncomfortable attempting to do anything but lie in the sun with music. Chilled in the park with my step bro and sister, ate Haribo, drank diet coke, and lived a little. Today's intake:
-30g bran cereal w/ 1/2 c. soymilk and 1/5 c. raisins (180)
-Elderflower presse (30)
-Haribo (100)
-Diet coke (0)
-Lettuce & sweet chilli tortilla wrap (130)
-Iced Seattle latte (165)
Later, Tina's coming over for sushi, wine and a movie. I'll stick with edamame, and tofu spring rolls, and try to stick to a small portion of Jasmine rice rather than loading up on the carbs. Hoping to be at 150 by the end of the week.
-30g bran cereal w/ 1/2 c. soymilk and 1/5 c. raisins (180)
-Elderflower presse (30)
-Haribo (100)
-Diet coke (0)
-Lettuce & sweet chilli tortilla wrap (130)
-Iced Seattle latte (165)
Later, Tina's coming over for sushi, wine and a movie. I'll stick with edamame, and tofu spring rolls, and try to stick to a small portion of Jasmine rice rather than loading up on the carbs. Hoping to be at 150 by the end of the week.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
I don't know what to do.
I'm so confused, and I don't know how to make sense of everything that's going on in my head right now.
I stayed up all night talking with one of my closest friends about how I've been feeling lately. And half way through the conversation, she tells me she straight up, you need to recover. Not physically per se, but mentally. She tells me I need to let go of all these numbers in my head, all these rules, restrictions, limits I place on myself - otherwise I'll go insane.
The long and short of it is, we had a really in depth/interesting conversation that rotated around society; the 'ideal' we're all cleaving to (which is actually bullshit, because being thin does not necessarily = power, happiness, and sexuality, despite what we're all brainwashed to think); feminism, eating disorders, short and long-term health and happiness. By the end of the night, I was utterly convinced (and yes, it was 3am) that the way forward was to give up this thing once and for all. To let go of weighing, counting, controlling, obsessing, and just live my life free of burden.
I woke up with a new purpose. I didn't step on the scales, I vowed to go according to hunger and the satisfaction that intuitive eating would give me. I had an amazing day - probably the happiest day of this year so far. I spent the afternoon in the sun with my three best girl friends, my sister, and my mum's boyfriend's son (I'll probably start referring to him less-long-windedly in the future as my stepbrother, as that's close to what I now consider him). We got Mexican food, sipped ice-cold frappuccinos on a lawn somewhere, smoked, and dozed off, drenched in light. I caught up with each and every one of them, and nothing was poisoned, or tainted, by my usual worries/anxieties. I just felt... free. Then we all came home sapped of energy but content, and my mum and her boyfriend made us dinner. We all sat around the table like a big happy family, laughing, eating, enjoying our food. It was a perfect day, in my eyes.
Until 11pm, when my head feels clouded suddenly, and I'm possessed to step on those dreaded bathroom scales. And then the perfect mirage was over, the moment I saw 160 flash up at me.
I can't do this. If it's a choice between my happiness/freedom and gaining weight, or mild stress/obsessive self-destructing anxiety and losing just a few pounds, I'm more inclined to take the latter, as awful as that sounds. I CAN'T get heavier. I cannot, will not do it. Not if it means happiness, or better self-confidence... because it will be a deluded happiness. The kind of deluded happiness experienced by fat people who are in love with food and being full and are in complete denial about how they appear to the outside world.
It does matter to me. Okay, I said it. This matters to me. I can't give this thing up. I never ever ever want to see that number on my scales... EVER again. It was like a nightmare. I was 135 lbs this time last year, I can't be up 25 lbs by then, it's just... it's disgusting. Repulsive. Shameful, and totally mortifying.
I don't know what to do. I'm just freaking out. I don't know whether to persevere with 600 calories/day, pretending this blip never happened.
But it DID happen. I experienced life 'on the other side'. And even if it was only for a long afternoon, it made an impact on me, and there's no shutting that off. Ugh.
My knee-jerk reaction is to stem the damage by restricting as much as I can this week, even if it means being rude at social arrangements, or seeing friends between meal times. Because there is no way on this earth that I'm going to exceed 160 lbs in this lifetime. No. Fucking. Way.
Maybe I'm going crazy. Maybe, after all this, I've finally just gone bloody crazy.
I'm so confused, and I don't know how to make sense of everything that's going on in my head right now.
I stayed up all night talking with one of my closest friends about how I've been feeling lately. And half way through the conversation, she tells me she straight up, you need to recover. Not physically per se, but mentally. She tells me I need to let go of all these numbers in my head, all these rules, restrictions, limits I place on myself - otherwise I'll go insane.
The long and short of it is, we had a really in depth/interesting conversation that rotated around society; the 'ideal' we're all cleaving to (which is actually bullshit, because being thin does not necessarily = power, happiness, and sexuality, despite what we're all brainwashed to think); feminism, eating disorders, short and long-term health and happiness. By the end of the night, I was utterly convinced (and yes, it was 3am) that the way forward was to give up this thing once and for all. To let go of weighing, counting, controlling, obsessing, and just live my life free of burden.
I woke up with a new purpose. I didn't step on the scales, I vowed to go according to hunger and the satisfaction that intuitive eating would give me. I had an amazing day - probably the happiest day of this year so far. I spent the afternoon in the sun with my three best girl friends, my sister, and my mum's boyfriend's son (I'll probably start referring to him less-long-windedly in the future as my stepbrother, as that's close to what I now consider him). We got Mexican food, sipped ice-cold frappuccinos on a lawn somewhere, smoked, and dozed off, drenched in light. I caught up with each and every one of them, and nothing was poisoned, or tainted, by my usual worries/anxieties. I just felt... free. Then we all came home sapped of energy but content, and my mum and her boyfriend made us dinner. We all sat around the table like a big happy family, laughing, eating, enjoying our food. It was a perfect day, in my eyes.
Until 11pm, when my head feels clouded suddenly, and I'm possessed to step on those dreaded bathroom scales. And then the perfect mirage was over, the moment I saw 160 flash up at me.
I can't do this. If it's a choice between my happiness/freedom and gaining weight, or mild stress/obsessive self-destructing anxiety and losing just a few pounds, I'm more inclined to take the latter, as awful as that sounds. I CAN'T get heavier. I cannot, will not do it. Not if it means happiness, or better self-confidence... because it will be a deluded happiness. The kind of deluded happiness experienced by fat people who are in love with food and being full and are in complete denial about how they appear to the outside world.
It does matter to me. Okay, I said it. This matters to me. I can't give this thing up. I never ever ever want to see that number on my scales... EVER again. It was like a nightmare. I was 135 lbs this time last year, I can't be up 25 lbs by then, it's just... it's disgusting. Repulsive. Shameful, and totally mortifying.
I don't know what to do. I'm just freaking out. I don't know whether to persevere with 600 calories/day, pretending this blip never happened.
But it DID happen. I experienced life 'on the other side'. And even if it was only for a long afternoon, it made an impact on me, and there's no shutting that off. Ugh.
My knee-jerk reaction is to stem the damage by restricting as much as I can this week, even if it means being rude at social arrangements, or seeing friends between meal times. Because there is no way on this earth that I'm going to exceed 160 lbs in this lifetime. No. Fucking. Way.
Maybe I'm going crazy. Maybe, after all this, I've finally just gone bloody crazy.
Saturday, 1 June 2013
Today's intake so far ('free day'):
-2 c. bran cereal (220)
-1 c. soy milk (40)
-Maryland cookie (53)
-Deli olives (80)
-Light Choices sandwich (270)
-Haribo (100)
-Coffee frappuccino (110)
-Diet coke (0)
Total: 913 calories
I'm gonna finish up with a cup-a-soup in a few minutes, then I'll call it the end of the day at 8pm. It's not as bad as it could have been, and I won't be exceeding 1000 calories, so tomorrow I can start my 600 days and finally start dropping again. Being this weight is really getting to me.
I spent two hours in the sun with Tina and Bash, lying on the green next to my house and talking about the meaning of life... I always become existential while hopped up on caffeine, don't ask me why. Also, bran cereal with soymilk is amazing. I'm seeing them again tomorrow for frozen yogurt, so with that in mind (and leaving room for extras) I'll plan tomorrow:
-1 c. bran cereal (110)
-1 c. soy milk (40)
-'Classic' plain frozen yogurt w/strawberries (250)
-Lentil soup (190)
That leaves 10 calories' room for extras - diet coke, gum, black coffee, the like. I might change stuff around if plans change, but for now, that's my projected intake.
I'm also considering buying some cheap rollerblades for LA, and taking up inline skating while I'm there. We'll be staying right next to Venice Beach, so plenty of opportunities for exercise. :D
PS. I took my measurements for the first time in... years. As expected, I'm far beyond the point I used to consider 'acceptable'. Waist: 29 inches, hips at widest point: 39 inches. I'm aiming for waist: 26, hips: 34 - which I believe is a UK size 8 (probably the smallest I'll ever reach with my bone structure).
-2 c. bran cereal (220)
-1 c. soy milk (40)
-Maryland cookie (53)
-Deli olives (80)
-Light Choices sandwich (270)
-Haribo (100)
-Coffee frappuccino (110)
-Diet coke (0)
Total: 913 calories
I'm gonna finish up with a cup-a-soup in a few minutes, then I'll call it the end of the day at 8pm. It's not as bad as it could have been, and I won't be exceeding 1000 calories, so tomorrow I can start my 600 days and finally start dropping again. Being this weight is really getting to me.
I spent two hours in the sun with Tina and Bash, lying on the green next to my house and talking about the meaning of life... I always become existential while hopped up on caffeine, don't ask me why. Also, bran cereal with soymilk is amazing. I'm seeing them again tomorrow for frozen yogurt, so with that in mind (and leaving room for extras) I'll plan tomorrow:
-1 c. bran cereal (110)
-1 c. soy milk (40)
-'Classic' plain frozen yogurt w/strawberries (250)
-Lentil soup (190)
That leaves 10 calories' room for extras - diet coke, gum, black coffee, the like. I might change stuff around if plans change, but for now, that's my projected intake.
I'm also considering buying some cheap rollerblades for LA, and taking up inline skating while I'm there. We'll be staying right next to Venice Beach, so plenty of opportunities for exercise. :D
PS. I took my measurements for the first time in... years. As expected, I'm far beyond the point I used to consider 'acceptable'. Waist: 29 inches, hips at widest point: 39 inches. I'm aiming for waist: 26, hips: 34 - which I believe is a UK size 8 (probably the smallest I'll ever reach with my bone structure).
Thursday, 30 May 2013
Farewell to the Fatty
I had a terrible day. My sister is normally alright with me these days. And by alright, I mean she'll converse with me, she'll laugh with me, and she'll generally be a far better presence in my life than she was a short year ago. But then there'll be the odd day where she'll take it upon herself to be the nastiest, cattiest, bitchiest person out, and everything that comes out of her mouth will be poisonous vitriol.
Today, it was that I didn't go to the gym enough, I didn't try hard enough to get a job, no wonder I didn't have many friends left with the way I 'went on', and that I project all my issues onto my family and seek attention from everyone all the time. Talk about 'projecting'. And to add insult to injury, I binged. On carbs, and cheese, and crisps, and chocolate. I can already see it on my body.
I'm probably around 158 lbs again; I wouldn't be entirely surprised, either, if it was more than that. The way my body works now (I assume as a result of years worth of restricting, bingeing, and metabolism-butchering), it takes a day's bad eating to put on a kilo, and around a week - often two - to take it back off again.
I've come to deduce, therefore, that the only surefire way for ME to lose weight successfully, is to adopt a plan of consistent caloric restriction (ie. <1000 calories a day), to follow it, and to stick to it for an extended period of time. The only times in my life where I have actually lost significant amounts of weight - and felt happy with the results - have been the times where my discipline is high, and my calories low. I don't know if this is just a result of having ruined my metabolism through seven years of disordered eating, or perhaps merely my frustration at my own body for not performing as quickly as I want it to under these circumstances, but I don't seem to be able to lose weight on >1000 calories anymore, even with exercise. It's disheartening, sure, but at the same time, it's the right kick-up-the-backside I need for me be able to commence a new 'chapter' - or rather, revisit an old one.
Hopefully, from now onwards, I'll stick with some sort of binge-free plan, have sufficient energy to work out but not burn out, and by the time I'm back in Los Angeles on June 26, I'll be a little lighter, and happier. Some notes to consider: 1) A tall light mocha frappuccino from Starbucks is 96 calories, and it's half-price-frappuccino week in the UK. There's something about fat-free, icy, half-price coffee goodness that just does it for me. 2) I need to buy Bran cereal, and low-cal lentil soup, ASAP. Luckily these are both inexpensive purchases, and as both are adequately filling/high in fibre, I feel they'll help me out on the good-old-restriction-train I'm supposedly about to board.
I also realised that I'll be satisfied - happy, even - if I just so much as see a glimpse of the 140s again. I just need to know I'm making progress.
Today, it was that I didn't go to the gym enough, I didn't try hard enough to get a job, no wonder I didn't have many friends left with the way I 'went on', and that I project all my issues onto my family and seek attention from everyone all the time. Talk about 'projecting'. And to add insult to injury, I binged. On carbs, and cheese, and crisps, and chocolate. I can already see it on my body.
I'm probably around 158 lbs again; I wouldn't be entirely surprised, either, if it was more than that. The way my body works now (I assume as a result of years worth of restricting, bingeing, and metabolism-butchering), it takes a day's bad eating to put on a kilo, and around a week - often two - to take it back off again.
I've come to deduce, therefore, that the only surefire way for ME to lose weight successfully, is to adopt a plan of consistent caloric restriction (ie. <1000 calories a day), to follow it, and to stick to it for an extended period of time. The only times in my life where I have actually lost significant amounts of weight - and felt happy with the results - have been the times where my discipline is high, and my calories low. I don't know if this is just a result of having ruined my metabolism through seven years of disordered eating, or perhaps merely my frustration at my own body for not performing as quickly as I want it to under these circumstances, but I don't seem to be able to lose weight on >1000 calories anymore, even with exercise. It's disheartening, sure, but at the same time, it's the right kick-up-the-backside I need for me be able to commence a new 'chapter' - or rather, revisit an old one.
Hopefully, from now onwards, I'll stick with some sort of binge-free plan, have sufficient energy to work out but not burn out, and by the time I'm back in Los Angeles on June 26, I'll be a little lighter, and happier. Some notes to consider: 1) A tall light mocha frappuccino from Starbucks is 96 calories, and it's half-price-frappuccino week in the UK. There's something about fat-free, icy, half-price coffee goodness that just does it for me. 2) I need to buy Bran cereal, and low-cal lentil soup, ASAP. Luckily these are both inexpensive purchases, and as both are adequately filling/high in fibre, I feel they'll help me out on the good-old-restriction-train I'm supposedly about to board.
I also realised that I'll be satisfied - happy, even - if I just so much as see a glimpse of the 140s again. I just need to know I'm making progress.
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
Late-May mania
I had a crazy weekend. It was Tina's birthday party on Saturday night, and when everyone left, it was just Tina, her bf, Caro, Zara and me. I stayed up all night, talking manically, chugging diet coke and smoking menthol after menthol. I ate continuously for two days straight. Sunday afternoon I took a two-hour nap, then my mum's boyfriend's son came over for dinner. He brought weed, and we smoked it on a park bench, talking shit about life and music and friends. Monday morning I woke up, exhausted beyond belief, and 159.8 lbs.
Yesterday and today, I felt so full from the weekend's over-consumption of food, that I was able to easily restrict to 600 calories a day. This morning I weighed 156.2 lbs, -3.6 lbs in a day. If it were not for my poor energy levels (which, unbelievably, were far from soaring after the amount of calories I ate at Tina's), I'd continue on this streak. Wednesday (tomorrow) would constitute Day 3, and we all know about that three-day hump that comes with restricting. Past that, and you're on a roll. It would be so easy to keep going after that. But I'm making the executive decision to take heed of my last two days restricting, and continue along a still-restrictive-but-slightly-healthier path of 800 calories a day. 4x200 calorie meals is safe enough to still lose weight, but not dangerously unhealthy, and besides, I need the extra energy to work out. I ran on the treadmill today for 20 minutes straight, which I can't remember being able to do in years.
Re-reading 'Wasted', I've become obsessed with bagels, lollipops, carrot sticks with mustard, fat-free yogurt, raisins, coffee with a little cream. I'm thinking of quitting smoking, finally, in June - or at least limiting it to 'social smoking'.
I'm still tired, but feeling vaguely more normal, and, oddly a little more like myself.
Yesterday and today, I felt so full from the weekend's over-consumption of food, that I was able to easily restrict to 600 calories a day. This morning I weighed 156.2 lbs, -3.6 lbs in a day. If it were not for my poor energy levels (which, unbelievably, were far from soaring after the amount of calories I ate at Tina's), I'd continue on this streak. Wednesday (tomorrow) would constitute Day 3, and we all know about that three-day hump that comes with restricting. Past that, and you're on a roll. It would be so easy to keep going after that. But I'm making the executive decision to take heed of my last two days restricting, and continue along a still-restrictive-but-slightly-healthier path of 800 calories a day. 4x200 calorie meals is safe enough to still lose weight, but not dangerously unhealthy, and besides, I need the extra energy to work out. I ran on the treadmill today for 20 minutes straight, which I can't remember being able to do in years.
Re-reading 'Wasted', I've become obsessed with bagels, lollipops, carrot sticks with mustard, fat-free yogurt, raisins, coffee with a little cream. I'm thinking of quitting smoking, finally, in June - or at least limiting it to 'social smoking'.
I'm still tired, but feeling vaguely more normal, and, oddly a little more like myself.
Friday, 24 May 2013
It starts here
I need a good solid layout so I don't freak out and eat everything/anything. I've realised I probably need to start thinking of this as more of a lifestyle change than a 'diet', as the word diet seems to send me into a state of panic. I need to find something sustainable that I can settle into and follow, and that might take a while so I have to be patient. It's been a while since I successfully restricted, but I have faith that once I'm over the 'three-day hump', I can do it.
Money is also really tight for me at the moment, as I've mentioned, so I need to be frugal with my food choices. I'm also considering giving up caffeine and nicotine for a while after tomorrow (party), to cleanse out my system and reset everything. So it won't just be saying no to bad food habits, it'll be saying no to smoking and drinking diet coke/coffee... hopefully they'll all tie in together and it'll be easier to say no to overeating (and easier to save money). My new plan is going to consist of a piece of fruit, maybe a low-fat yogurt or cheese and salad for lunch. Dinner will be simple, either a small portion of what's being cooked, or some cucumber sticks with fat free Caesar dressing. This might change once I settle into eating this way, but I'm sticking to a few definite rules:
-8 glasses of water a day
-Don't eat after 6pm
-Herbal tea and vitamins for breakfast
-No snacking besides gum
I'm also going to keep up the exercise and try really hard to control myself after I've worked out. It's easy to simply make some toast and butter when I'm being lazy but it's difficult to compensate for those choices later.
I just have to try to gear myself back into that mindset wherein food is unimportant, just a mechanical thing you do a few times a day. I pin so many emotions on food and use it for a whole host of reasons - whether I'm happy, sad, anxious or celebrating, I'll eat. That has to stop. Weighed 156.6 this morning and hoping for 156.0 tomorrow.
Money is also really tight for me at the moment, as I've mentioned, so I need to be frugal with my food choices. I'm also considering giving up caffeine and nicotine for a while after tomorrow (party), to cleanse out my system and reset everything. So it won't just be saying no to bad food habits, it'll be saying no to smoking and drinking diet coke/coffee... hopefully they'll all tie in together and it'll be easier to say no to overeating (and easier to save money). My new plan is going to consist of a piece of fruit, maybe a low-fat yogurt or cheese and salad for lunch. Dinner will be simple, either a small portion of what's being cooked, or some cucumber sticks with fat free Caesar dressing. This might change once I settle into eating this way, but I'm sticking to a few definite rules:
-8 glasses of water a day
-Don't eat after 6pm
-Herbal tea and vitamins for breakfast
-No snacking besides gum
I'm also going to keep up the exercise and try really hard to control myself after I've worked out. It's easy to simply make some toast and butter when I'm being lazy but it's difficult to compensate for those choices later.
I just have to try to gear myself back into that mindset wherein food is unimportant, just a mechanical thing you do a few times a day. I pin so many emotions on food and use it for a whole host of reasons - whether I'm happy, sad, anxious or celebrating, I'll eat. That has to stop. Weighed 156.6 this morning and hoping for 156.0 tomorrow.
Thursday, 23 May 2013
A vegetarian's kryptonite...
My sister's cooking sweet and sour chicken downstairs, and I can smell it from my room. I swear to God, if I wasn't a vegetarian, I'd be all over that like a mo-fo.
Right well I'm just going to come out and say it. I had the most depressing morning ever. Yes, I say this sort of thing all the time. But I have hit an all. time. low. with my weight, and not a good 'low'. I weighed in at 157 freaking pounds. Okay, so admittedly I stepped on the scales early (8am), after a bad night's sleep (5hrs) because I had to wake up for a doctor's appointment.
The problem is, I've been exercising like a bitch on speed for the last few days, I'm talking kickboxing at my gym, biking, treadmill, all of that stuff. And I think because my metabolism sped up slightly, I compensated by eating more. Exercise makes you hungrier - that's a well-known fact - the point is you're supposed to eat your post-workout snack, then STOP until it's dinner time. My problem? I just keep on going. Bread. Lots of bread. And cheese. The two evils of this universe.
While I'm proud of myself that I've actually got my ass in gear after so long being a dormant lump, my recent weight gain is making me completely re-consider the benefits of exercise. So we all know working out is good for you. But is that all worth it, if I just end up gaining a pound a day doing it?! I want to keep going to the gym - I know it's good for me - but the problem is my diet, and the way I over-compensate with food when I'm tired, hungry, or bored.
I have a month until I go back to the States, and I refuse to have another awful, awful experience with my self-esteem like last time. Last time was a clothing debacle. I tried on every outfit in my suitcase at least twice over EVERY morning just to find something that didn't make me look fat. And I'm heavier now than I was back then.
I'm eating minimally from now on - or at least until the 25th of June. Healthy eating is obviously great if you can control yourself with proper portions at meal times. I don't stick to set meals, I graze all through the day and by 10pm I'll realise I've consumed up to 2,000 calories unwittingly... when I thought it was more like 1,200. Evidently, my body won't lose weight on 1,000+, so I need to step it up a notch, get my weight back down to a 'safe' zone that I feel comfortable with, and stop trying to make myself feel better with late-night crackers and hoummous.
Something helpful is that I'm broke again, which may be a blessing in disguise - because this way, I can't afford Starbucks (milky fatty goodness), cigarettes (cancer-inducing shit sticks) or things to binge on (calories ahoy). This way, I'm buying what I need, surviving on less and fingers crossed losing weight. Lots of it.
So if all I can afford for lunch is a small bag of fries with ketchup and a diet coke from McDonalds, and all I can afford for dinner is a £1 salad, that will be that. I'm not planning on spending over £3.50 a day. Time to get my butt in gear.
Right well I'm just going to come out and say it. I had the most depressing morning ever. Yes, I say this sort of thing all the time. But I have hit an all. time. low. with my weight, and not a good 'low'. I weighed in at 157 freaking pounds. Okay, so admittedly I stepped on the scales early (8am), after a bad night's sleep (5hrs) because I had to wake up for a doctor's appointment.
The problem is, I've been exercising like a bitch on speed for the last few days, I'm talking kickboxing at my gym, biking, treadmill, all of that stuff. And I think because my metabolism sped up slightly, I compensated by eating more. Exercise makes you hungrier - that's a well-known fact - the point is you're supposed to eat your post-workout snack, then STOP until it's dinner time. My problem? I just keep on going. Bread. Lots of bread. And cheese. The two evils of this universe.
While I'm proud of myself that I've actually got my ass in gear after so long being a dormant lump, my recent weight gain is making me completely re-consider the benefits of exercise. So we all know working out is good for you. But is that all worth it, if I just end up gaining a pound a day doing it?! I want to keep going to the gym - I know it's good for me - but the problem is my diet, and the way I over-compensate with food when I'm tired, hungry, or bored.
I have a month until I go back to the States, and I refuse to have another awful, awful experience with my self-esteem like last time. Last time was a clothing debacle. I tried on every outfit in my suitcase at least twice over EVERY morning just to find something that didn't make me look fat. And I'm heavier now than I was back then.
I'm eating minimally from now on - or at least until the 25th of June. Healthy eating is obviously great if you can control yourself with proper portions at meal times. I don't stick to set meals, I graze all through the day and by 10pm I'll realise I've consumed up to 2,000 calories unwittingly... when I thought it was more like 1,200. Evidently, my body won't lose weight on 1,000+, so I need to step it up a notch, get my weight back down to a 'safe' zone that I feel comfortable with, and stop trying to make myself feel better with late-night crackers and hoummous.
Something helpful is that I'm broke again, which may be a blessing in disguise - because this way, I can't afford Starbucks (milky fatty goodness), cigarettes (cancer-inducing shit sticks) or things to binge on (calories ahoy). This way, I'm buying what I need, surviving on less and fingers crossed losing weight. Lots of it.
So if all I can afford for lunch is a small bag of fries with ketchup and a diet coke from McDonalds, and all I can afford for dinner is a £1 salad, that will be that. I'm not planning on spending over £3.50 a day. Time to get my butt in gear.
Wednesday, 15 May 2013
The "D" word
I've felt pretty depressed over the past week, I'm not going to lie. My weight's been veering between 155 and 156 and showing no signs of dropping below that range, which depresses me even more. Today was the worst. Last Friday, I applied for a job at my local coffee shop. They seemed to really like me and everything went well - I aced two trial shifts over the weekend, and the boss said she would call me to let me know whether I'd got the job on Monday. My fucking phone which is nearly 4 years old and dying on me didn't receive her call, so she never got through. And when I went in today to explain the situation, she told me I was too late, and she'd given the job to another trainee. So I had actually got it, but because my failure of a phone gave up on me, it went to some other guy. I spent the entire afternoon crying way more than I should have done over some cafe job. Maybe I cried so much because it would have been perfect had everything worked out... maybe I cried because I felt like that was my last hope or something, and it's the closest I've got to actually doing something I enjoy on this fuck-up of a gap year. Doing something that gets me out of the house every day and gives me a routine and a purpose and provides me with some money of my own. My mum didn't understand. She just shouted at me for crying and said I needed to get my life together. Well, hello, that's what I was trying to do. Now I just feel like giving up. Because my life is back to how it has been since February 2012. Two-dimensional, inconsequential, and mostly spent in bed, wishing I was somewhere else with a new name and face.
Even writing about all of that is making my heart hurt again, and I'm beginning to wonder how I'll get through the next few days. I have my shitty waitressing job to attend tomorrow. It's a 6 hour shift and I just hate how mentally drained I feel after coming back from these central London things... but whatever. I have to do it, I don't even have a choice in canceling or they'll fine me more than my wage. Ugh.
Even writing about all of that is making my heart hurt again, and I'm beginning to wonder how I'll get through the next few days. I have my shitty waitressing job to attend tomorrow. It's a 6 hour shift and I just hate how mentally drained I feel after coming back from these central London things... but whatever. I have to do it, I don't even have a choice in canceling or they'll fine me more than my wage. Ugh.
Sunday, 5 May 2013
Saturday night street dancing
Tina came over last night. We feasted on pimento & almond-stuffed olives, peaches, and orange juice. There was a live band playing above the pub at the end of my street, and we walked over, buzzing, cackling from the hilarity, making fools of ourselves dancing and leaping around on the corner of the road. I felt alive, for a moment.
My digestive system is out of whack from all the fibre. Fibre intake is a bit like water intake - when you deprive yourself of it for a while, your body has a hard time dealing with large amounts of it, and your weight goes up. Eventually, your body lets it all go, and everything gets re-set. My weight went up to 155.6 this morning. I know it's food weight, but it leaves me feeling discontent. I came across these pictures of myself earlier when going through old archives.
Friday, 3 May 2013
Raw food revolution
I’m setting a little challenge for myself over the next few days, to consume a mostly raw food diet without obsessing over calories or weighing myself. Yep, this means reverting to my vegan ways for a while. I am interested to see if it makes any difference to my energy levels, mood, and general overall appearance (skin, weight, etc.)
So yeah. I’m going to take it upon myself to eat “raw” (with the exception of coffee, and soy milk) until this time next week, and see where it leads me. Fruit, veggies, nuts, seeds, whole dried fruit, raw vegan bars and juices, and shitloads of water.
• raw overnight oats with soy milk, peanut butter, raisins and walnuts -400kcal
• raw vegan Nakd bars x2 -290kcal
• raw sweet peppers, 1 punnet -45kcal
• raw sesame, pine nut, chickpea and olive oil hoummous -700kcal (I didn't eat this all in one go but had half with the peppers, and half later)
• orange juice, 2 glasses -240kcal
• 2 coffees with soy milk -115kcal
• elderflower water with ice, several glasses -50kcal
• butterleaf lettuce and green beans with raw balsamic honey dressing -55kcal
Total: 1895kcal
It astounds me how much I can eat/drink without clocking up the calories. I was stuffed when I came home and just had a few bites of veggies, as that was all I could handle. 1895 calories might sound like a lot, but I ate what felt like a huge volume of food for that amount, and hopefully my metabolism should get up to speed digesting all of it. I can excuse 1500 + calories if it's all the good, clean stuff. If it's crisps and chocolate, I feel shitty, and my metabolism slows down.
My aim tomorrow is to eat more fresh produce! I might venture to the fruit/veg market stand in the morning, and stock up on cheap cucumber, celery, kale, and peaches. Yummm.
So yeah. I’m going to take it upon myself to eat “raw” (with the exception of coffee, and soy milk) until this time next week, and see where it leads me. Fruit, veggies, nuts, seeds, whole dried fruit, raw vegan bars and juices, and shitloads of water.
• raw overnight oats with soy milk, peanut butter, raisins and walnuts -400kcal
• raw vegan Nakd bars x2 -290kcal
• raw sweet peppers, 1 punnet -45kcal
• raw sesame, pine nut, chickpea and olive oil hoummous -700kcal (I didn't eat this all in one go but had half with the peppers, and half later)
• orange juice, 2 glasses -240kcal
• 2 coffees with soy milk -115kcal
• elderflower water with ice, several glasses -50kcal
• butterleaf lettuce and green beans with raw balsamic honey dressing -55kcal
Total: 1895kcal
It astounds me how much I can eat/drink without clocking up the calories. I was stuffed when I came home and just had a few bites of veggies, as that was all I could handle. 1895 calories might sound like a lot, but I ate what felt like a huge volume of food for that amount, and hopefully my metabolism should get up to speed digesting all of it. I can excuse 1500 + calories if it's all the good, clean stuff. If it's crisps and chocolate, I feel shitty, and my metabolism slows down.
My aim tomorrow is to eat more fresh produce! I might venture to the fruit/veg market stand in the morning, and stock up on cheap cucumber, celery, kale, and peaches. Yummm.
Wednesday, 1 May 2013
Yesterday was okay, I guess. I had a fall out with my mum over the application for student finance (one of the most overly-lengthy and stressful online forms to work through, in my opinion) and a minor breakdown about money. But I met Tina for lunch and we pigged out on some organic goodies from the health food shop. In the sun. With iced coffees :) I ate way too much yesterday though - over 2,000 calories, which isn't exactly conducive to weight-loss-mode... I weighed 155 lbs this morning after glimpsing 154 yesterday :( I'm sticking to 1,200-1,400 from now on, with daily workouts, so I can get my weight under 150 as soon as possible.
I've got a big afternoon waitressing - my shift is from 4.30-11pm :( I don't know why but I always dread my shifts, because they're so draining and we don't get any breaks - but afterwards I usually feel really buzzed like I'm high or something. And I end up talking to nice people. So I just have to cling onto that bit, I guess. It also means I don't smoke for half the day, which is a plus... God I really need to quit smoking. It kind of clashes with the whole healthy lifestyle thing. Shame I'm such a hopeless addict :s
I'm debating whether to keep logging my daily intakes here, in one place, or to create a new page on this blog/a food tumblr to log my intakes? What do you guys think? It's nothing of great importance, but I'm leaning towards keeping this blog more feelings/progress/life-oriented, and categorising my food logs and all the technical stuff off into another separate journal.
Anywayy, eating plan for the rest of the day:
Breakfast was a homemade iced mocha with skim milk (around 120 cals - yumm)
I had 1/2 piece of wholegrain bread with 1tbsp peanut butter (140 cals) and a few bites of last nights leftover mac and cheese (50 cals?) out of boredom this morning :( I have got to stop doing this
So the rest of the day, lunch will be egg whites, walnut and apple salad with some cheddar cheese and balsamic dressing (300 cals). Because that is what's in the fridge, and I need to get my veggies/protein in there somewhere...
During waitressing I've packed 2 Trek protein bars (480 cals) to keep me going (if I even get a chance to sneak off to eat them). That'll bring today's total to 1,090, then I'll have some room for juice or whatever if I'm still hungry when I get home.
I've got a big afternoon waitressing - my shift is from 4.30-11pm :( I don't know why but I always dread my shifts, because they're so draining and we don't get any breaks - but afterwards I usually feel really buzzed like I'm high or something. And I end up talking to nice people. So I just have to cling onto that bit, I guess. It also means I don't smoke for half the day, which is a plus... God I really need to quit smoking. It kind of clashes with the whole healthy lifestyle thing. Shame I'm such a hopeless addict :s
I'm debating whether to keep logging my daily intakes here, in one place, or to create a new page on this blog/a food tumblr to log my intakes? What do you guys think? It's nothing of great importance, but I'm leaning towards keeping this blog more feelings/progress/life-oriented, and categorising my food logs and all the technical stuff off into another separate journal.
Anywayy, eating plan for the rest of the day:
Breakfast was a homemade iced mocha with skim milk (around 120 cals - yumm)
I had 1/2 piece of wholegrain bread with 1tbsp peanut butter (140 cals) and a few bites of last nights leftover mac and cheese (50 cals?) out of boredom this morning :( I have got to stop doing this
So the rest of the day, lunch will be egg whites, walnut and apple salad with some cheddar cheese and balsamic dressing (300 cals). Because that is what's in the fridge, and I need to get my veggies/protein in there somewhere...
During waitressing I've packed 2 Trek protein bars (480 cals) to keep me going (if I even get a chance to sneak off to eat them). That'll bring today's total to 1,090, then I'll have some room for juice or whatever if I'm still hungry when I get home.
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
Bring on May
I'm trying to pull things together. It's not easy, but I'm trying my damned best to stop being so hard on myself. It's time to reclaim my life and put myself back together. I've been watching Felicity, and dreaming about New York. Bash, her eyes filling with some sort of spark, tells me she's looking at apartments there. She got her first offer the other day. Somehow, it seems, her state of mind might be salvaged. She had a stressful year, down, in part, to the fact that she hated Boston, along with an accident that left her mother paralysed in January. But she's getting through.
I weighed 155 this morning. An improvement. Yesterday I had about a pint of blood sucked out of me at the hospital, so in a week I'll find out if there's anything wrong with my thyroid. I'm half-hoping there is, and half-hoping there isn't. Another disorder would probably drain me completely, however I would be able to rest assured that there was some other explanation for my weight gain, depression and fatigue besides... well, my own head.
For now, I'm putting myself on a high-protein, low-carb diet. I don't want to eliminate carbs altogether, but 'white' carbs can definitely go, I'll be sticking to whole grains for the time being. And I'm going to start working out again, 15-20 minutes every day, because I've fallen out of my cardio workouts and conditioning and it feels terrible. I guess, in a nutshell, I'm going to start treating my body and my mind better than I have been doing. Eventually I want to cut out smoking altogether, but for now I might just limit it to social smoking, then when I feel ready I'll start on the nicotine patches/gum and find some other habit to satisfy my oral fixation (do they sell sugar free lollipops?) - either way, I'm getting healthy. May is going to be a month of health. And I'd like to say happiness, but that might be a bit far-fetched. I am working on my self-annihilation, though, because it doesn't help things at all. I realise through my recent blog posts I've been sounding more and more depressive. And while that's often my default, I should work harder to move away from the negative mindset. It does me no favours.
I've decided to take before and after photos this month, because I think it's time for me to stare my weight gain in its big ugly face, and get some motivation to do something about it. Hopefully these will be improved, after 4 weeks of working out, eating clean, and thinking more positively.
I know. My legs are so chunky, my stomach and hips are bloated, and my thigh gap is basically non-existent these days when I'm not in heels. My aim is to lose 10-15 lbs, and tone up by the 1st June. A big motivation is that I'll be flying back to LA - this time for 3 weeks - at the end of June, and straight after that I'm going to Portugal with my mum. So the real deal starts from the second I wake up tomorrow, no excuses this time.
Saturday, 27 April 2013
Sharks
Everything is shit. I'm 157 lbs, and there's no way I can get out of that one. I have to face the facts. Things at home are miserable. I'm happiest when I'm asleep or in bed, away from reality. I'm broke and it sucks because one of my best friends is back from the states and I couldn't even afford to get on a tube to meet her tonight, along with all my other friends who were welcoming her home. My mum finds any way to get at me about my current lack of employment. I've booked numerous waitressing shifts for next month, I'll be working my butt off but even then, the money I earn doing that won't be transferred to my card until June (and besides, I need it to go towards savings for uni, let alone my plans for this summer, so it won't be money to live off). I listen to songs I used to love and find inspiration from, but now all they do is make me cry. In fact, everything is making me cry at the moment. I cried after I finished dinner, not because I felt guilty about the food I'd eaten, but because I thought the empty plate and glass looked tragic, sitting there alone on the table, compared to the night I should have had.
I'd like to be 120 lbs. I'd like to be 140 even, anything but this. This is disgusting, obscene, wrong. I'm debating in my head whether or not to cut to a measured 600 calories a day, or take advantage of being fat and 'diet steadily' at a safe, controlled 1200. It probably doesn't matter what I plan anyway, because we all know my track record with sticking to things.
I want to be free. I want to be free of weight worries, calorie worries, health worries, money worries, friendship worries, life worries in general. Having Kit here was lovely, but in other ways, it depressed me to no end, because she has everything I envy. She's in a long-term relationship with a man who loves her to pieces, and they're moving into a beautiful seaside cottage together this Autumn while she attends art college. Even though she's only 19 like me, she's going to be living in this perfect blissful idyll with someone who adores her for the next three years, and after that she'll be off travelling, doing what she loves best, and being free. Her family all get on, and they rarely have arguments - unlike my own family, who started tearing each other apart before I was born. She lives in the country, where the kids are free to explore as they please. She even has her own art studio that she can escape to if things get too stressful, along with all the land they own out there. And it's not just her wealth and personal relationship I envy - I haven't mentioned that she's also incredibly beautiful, toned, and slim, and hasn't once watched her weight, having been a dedicated swimmer for the past six years. I'm not saying she's perfectly happy. Of course not. She has plenty of anxieties of her own, as does any young person trying to find their footing in the world. But she's cushioned, and she always will be. I was thrown off the cushion and in to the deep end so long ago I can't even remember what it felt like to be on the cushion. Ironically, being pushed in with the sharks didn't make me any freer. It just made me more depressed because I realised what my life, as me, embodied, and probably would continue to embody as I grew older.
Who knows. This is just a meaningless rant, one of many. All I know is that I cannot be 157 anymore. Cannot and will not. This time last year I weighed 141 lbs. If it takes my last energy to get back there by the end of May, so be it.
I'd like to be 120 lbs. I'd like to be 140 even, anything but this. This is disgusting, obscene, wrong. I'm debating in my head whether or not to cut to a measured 600 calories a day, or take advantage of being fat and 'diet steadily' at a safe, controlled 1200. It probably doesn't matter what I plan anyway, because we all know my track record with sticking to things.
I want to be free. I want to be free of weight worries, calorie worries, health worries, money worries, friendship worries, life worries in general. Having Kit here was lovely, but in other ways, it depressed me to no end, because she has everything I envy. She's in a long-term relationship with a man who loves her to pieces, and they're moving into a beautiful seaside cottage together this Autumn while she attends art college. Even though she's only 19 like me, she's going to be living in this perfect blissful idyll with someone who adores her for the next three years, and after that she'll be off travelling, doing what she loves best, and being free. Her family all get on, and they rarely have arguments - unlike my own family, who started tearing each other apart before I was born. She lives in the country, where the kids are free to explore as they please. She even has her own art studio that she can escape to if things get too stressful, along with all the land they own out there. And it's not just her wealth and personal relationship I envy - I haven't mentioned that she's also incredibly beautiful, toned, and slim, and hasn't once watched her weight, having been a dedicated swimmer for the past six years. I'm not saying she's perfectly happy. Of course not. She has plenty of anxieties of her own, as does any young person trying to find their footing in the world. But she's cushioned, and she always will be. I was thrown off the cushion and in to the deep end so long ago I can't even remember what it felt like to be on the cushion. Ironically, being pushed in with the sharks didn't make me any freer. It just made me more depressed because I realised what my life, as me, embodied, and probably would continue to embody as I grew older.
Who knows. This is just a meaningless rant, one of many. All I know is that I cannot be 157 anymore. Cannot and will not. This time last year I weighed 141 lbs. If it takes my last energy to get back there by the end of May, so be it.
Thursday, 25 April 2013
Farewell to the fairground
That feeling where you can't control your own body, your weight, or what it's doing in general, is probably one of the scariest feelings a person who has suffered with an eating disorder can experience. I've had that feeling for weeks now, and it's one of the major reasons I haven't posted since I got back from holiday. The direction my weight goes in is so at odds with the way I eat that I've begun to suspect I might have developed some kind of underactive-thyroid problem. I go over 1,200 calories and suddenly I'm a kilo heavier, regardless of the fact that those 1,200 calories have undoubtedly been healthy ones, regardless of the fact that I will have worked out for 45 minutes at the gym and done a further 15 minutes of conditioning at home.
I'm still bouncing around the 152-154 mark on the scales. I hate it. It makes me sick that last summer I could eat double the amount I'm eating now, and maintain weights as low as 137. It makes me regretful that I deemed that weight "fat" at the time. And it makes me confused as to how I ended up here, at a number I once thought I would never, ever see again.
More than anything, it makes me want to starve again.
And starve I will, if that's what it takes. This time I'm armed with multiple sachets of cup-a-soup, fruit tea, fat-free cheese, and truckloads of olives, because they're small and manageable and delicious and CHEAP.
The good thing is the weather's looking up, so no more stuffing my face purely because it's cold. The annual funfair's been set up on our local common, and Kit, an old friend, is coming down to London to stay the night. Tomorrow will be spent at the fair, and tomorrow night will involve wine, and possibly a movie. I've missed her so much, and I'm praying I won't have to eat majorly while she stays with me. Her company will be enough.
Lastly, I've realised I don't want Alfie in my life anymore. He's been super insensitive about stuff lately, and messed with my head big time. I had an emotionally abusive relationship with my father for years, and I am not going to let history repeat itself by making myself vulnerable to another man intent on toying with my emotions. That's the long and short of it. Maybe I'll elaborate later. For now I'm feeling pretty beaten up about it.
I'm still bouncing around the 152-154 mark on the scales. I hate it. It makes me sick that last summer I could eat double the amount I'm eating now, and maintain weights as low as 137. It makes me regretful that I deemed that weight "fat" at the time. And it makes me confused as to how I ended up here, at a number I once thought I would never, ever see again.
More than anything, it makes me want to starve again.
And starve I will, if that's what it takes. This time I'm armed with multiple sachets of cup-a-soup, fruit tea, fat-free cheese, and truckloads of olives, because they're small and manageable and delicious and CHEAP.
The good thing is the weather's looking up, so no more stuffing my face purely because it's cold. The annual funfair's been set up on our local common, and Kit, an old friend, is coming down to London to stay the night. Tomorrow will be spent at the fair, and tomorrow night will involve wine, and possibly a movie. I've missed her so much, and I'm praying I won't have to eat majorly while she stays with me. Her company will be enough.
Lastly, I've realised I don't want Alfie in my life anymore. He's been super insensitive about stuff lately, and messed with my head big time. I had an emotionally abusive relationship with my father for years, and I am not going to let history repeat itself by making myself vulnerable to another man intent on toying with my emotions. That's the long and short of it. Maybe I'll elaborate later. For now I'm feeling pretty beaten up about it.
Monday, 25 March 2013
Glorious
I feel anxiety-riddled - terrified, to be more precise - realising that I'm flying to Los Angeles in exactly four days from now, and I still weigh 152 lbs. Even more anxiety-provoking, is the fact that I'd like to start properly restricting again (600 calories a day + exercise, plenty of caffeine, and a matching OCD mindset to go with it, whether or not that fits in with my schedule), but being on the cusp of going away is unnerving to me simply because I'm scared I won't be able to keep it up abroad, and the simple act of trying this week will have been a waste of my time if all goes to bollocks out there.
All of this panic induced (surprise surprise) a binge. A weird-ass binge that consisted mostly of seed bread dipped in guacamole and hot sauce, and whole dried prunes. There were other things, too, but it doesn't really matter now, because it's probably the 40th time I've binged already this year, and listing all the foods I shoved into my gob this evening isn't going to make me feel any better, let alone prevent it from happening again.
The point is, I'm freaking out. I'm still freaking out, even after bingeing, which just proves that blanketing your emotions with food does nothing to calm your nerves, or sort things out mentally. In fact, more often than not, it makes things worse. Especially if your nervousness is rooted in the way you look, and how much worse you'll probably look 2,000 calories later.
Normally this sort of terror would propel me into three straight weeks of strict 'dieting' (and by dieting, I mean breaking down when my daily caloric intake exceeds 600). I'm doing everything I can - mentally - to push myself over that edge of sanity and survival instinct keeping me from lowering my weight. I realise, now, it's a mind game. A steady, stealthy period of conditioning yourself into thinking, behaving, and living in a disciplined, regimented way. It's definitely not easy, but I've done it before (see my entries written over last year's study leave, during which I'd hit that stage where restricting becomes easier than bingeing - because even the idea of slipping up by a mere 100 calories is mentally exhausting). There's this huge part of me that thrills thinking about the idea of possibly returning to London a stone lighter than I am now. After all, that's what I've gained, give or take a few lbs, since last summer, and to get that weight back off me at long last would be not only a major relief, but glorious.
We'll see how it goes. So far, I haven't eaten since 10pm, and it's now nearly 2am, which is a good sign. Eating after midnight usually sets me off again.
Tomorrow's projected intake:
-1 c. bran cereal (90)
-1 c. frozen raspberries (30)
-1 c. green beans (30)
-Starbucks skinny cappuccino (96)
-1 c. butternut squash soup (140)
Along with something small, sweet and (hopefully) binge-preventing.
All of this panic induced (surprise surprise) a binge. A weird-ass binge that consisted mostly of seed bread dipped in guacamole and hot sauce, and whole dried prunes. There were other things, too, but it doesn't really matter now, because it's probably the 40th time I've binged already this year, and listing all the foods I shoved into my gob this evening isn't going to make me feel any better, let alone prevent it from happening again.
The point is, I'm freaking out. I'm still freaking out, even after bingeing, which just proves that blanketing your emotions with food does nothing to calm your nerves, or sort things out mentally. In fact, more often than not, it makes things worse. Especially if your nervousness is rooted in the way you look, and how much worse you'll probably look 2,000 calories later.
Normally this sort of terror would propel me into three straight weeks of strict 'dieting' (and by dieting, I mean breaking down when my daily caloric intake exceeds 600). I'm doing everything I can - mentally - to push myself over that edge of sanity and survival instinct keeping me from lowering my weight. I realise, now, it's a mind game. A steady, stealthy period of conditioning yourself into thinking, behaving, and living in a disciplined, regimented way. It's definitely not easy, but I've done it before (see my entries written over last year's study leave, during which I'd hit that stage where restricting becomes easier than bingeing - because even the idea of slipping up by a mere 100 calories is mentally exhausting). There's this huge part of me that thrills thinking about the idea of possibly returning to London a stone lighter than I am now. After all, that's what I've gained, give or take a few lbs, since last summer, and to get that weight back off me at long last would be not only a major relief, but glorious.
We'll see how it goes. So far, I haven't eaten since 10pm, and it's now nearly 2am, which is a good sign. Eating after midnight usually sets me off again.
Tomorrow's projected intake:
-1 c. bran cereal (90)
-1 c. frozen raspberries (30)
-1 c. green beans (30)
-Starbucks skinny cappuccino (96)
-1 c. butternut squash soup (140)
Along with something small, sweet and (hopefully) binge-preventing.
Saturday, 23 March 2013
Day 1
-1 c. bran cereal (90)
-1/2 c. soy milk (30)
-Classic side salad (50)
-2 wheat tortilla wraps (180)
-3 slices edam cheese (225)
-2 tbsp. guacamole (28)
-1 c. lettuce (5)
Total: 608 cals
108 cals over my self-imposed limit for the next week, but it's a start. I'm no longer counting coffee, and also am allowing myself up to half a bar of chocolate every night, because I honestly believe it staves off binges. If I tell myself I can have as much chocolate as I want (and I really start to feel ill after a moderate amount of it), I'll tend not to go for the salty carbs or hoummous-y goodness that usually lead to my downfalls. I'll cut the chocolate out (or find a lower-calorie substitute) when I feel like the bingeing is under control, but for now, I'm justifying it by telling myself it's better than a 2,000-calorie break-down in the kitchen every night.
In exactly a week from now, I'll be on a plane to Los Angeles. The big L-A. It would be ideal to get well enough under 150 to deter me from ruining my progress abroad, but we'll see how it goes. Easy does it I guess.
My end goal, besides the obvious losing weight, will be to go long enough without bingeing that I break the habit, therefore deterring that all-too-familiar mindset of 'well, I had one bite, so why not eat the whole thing, and then everything else in the fridge'. I don't expect to never binge again, but when it becomes routine to binge rather than to just leave it, that's when you know there's a problem.
-1/2 c. soy milk (30)
-Classic side salad (50)
-2 wheat tortilla wraps (180)
-3 slices edam cheese (225)
-2 tbsp. guacamole (28)
-1 c. lettuce (5)
Total: 608 cals
108 cals over my self-imposed limit for the next week, but it's a start. I'm no longer counting coffee, and also am allowing myself up to half a bar of chocolate every night, because I honestly believe it staves off binges. If I tell myself I can have as much chocolate as I want (and I really start to feel ill after a moderate amount of it), I'll tend not to go for the salty carbs or hoummous-y goodness that usually lead to my downfalls. I'll cut the chocolate out (or find a lower-calorie substitute) when I feel like the bingeing is under control, but for now, I'm justifying it by telling myself it's better than a 2,000-calorie break-down in the kitchen every night.
In exactly a week from now, I'll be on a plane to Los Angeles. The big L-A. It would be ideal to get well enough under 150 to deter me from ruining my progress abroad, but we'll see how it goes. Easy does it I guess.
My end goal, besides the obvious losing weight, will be to go long enough without bingeing that I break the habit, therefore deterring that all-too-familiar mindset of 'well, I had one bite, so why not eat the whole thing, and then everything else in the fridge'. I don't expect to never binge again, but when it becomes routine to binge rather than to just leave it, that's when you know there's a problem.
Friday, 22 March 2013
Midnight pity party
Fuck boys and their massive appetites. Seriously. What is it with men? They're obsessed - actually obsessed - with food. And sex. And food. I'm seriously stereotyping here, but having just eaten the world's biggest take out dinner on account of hanging out with Alfie, I do have a point.
Unggggh. Words can't express how full and ill and disgusted I feel with myself. I miss the days when I wasn't disgusted with myself, and I was actually proud of what I'd eaten. It's not even like I can excuse it with saying I burnt off some calories beforehand - or afterwards - if you know what I mean. Oh no. There was none of that. Sometimes I wonder even if he even wants to sleep with me still. It's no wonder, considering I've gained around 20 lbs since we first met (oh, God) and not of those lbs has gone to my boobs, as far as I'm aware. Even now, he's texting me, trying to egg on some kind of late-night-sext-scapade, but I'm pretty sure he'd never actually suggest sex in real life. He seems to be, like, this special breed of guy who is just fairly content with oral sex alone, and never actually wants to make the move to sleep with me. What a little tease.
So. The deathlist. Veggie burger (the biggest one I've ever seen); 1/2 large portion fries; 2 slices garlic cheese pizza; and about 4 different, very high-cal condiments. And then the binge that ensued once he'd left, because apparently all that food wasn't enough for me. Jesus Christ. It's a wonder he still wants to kiss me when I eat like this. Obviously, I have very big problems.
Now I'm up at 2am downing glass upon glass of diet coke, hoping it will wash away at least some of the crap currently in my intestines, along with my sorrows.
I've honestly had enough of this. I've had enough of the 150s. I've had enough of looking at myself in the mirror and cringing. I've had enough of over-eating night after night, with no way to get rid of it (bulimia isn't an option when you live in a house with two very weight-conscious women, and only one bathroom). So all of this leaves me with only one option left: restriction. Not that I mind this. If I could go the next week on 300-500 calories a day tops, curbing my desire to binge as best I can, I might actually stand a chance of going to LA with a shred of self-confidence in tact. If I keep this up, though, I'm looking at more depressive episodes over my lack of control, possibly more weight gain, and my self-esteem left in tatters on the floor - indefinitely.
It's fine. It's cool. I have bran cereal (high fibre, and takes a long time to nibble). I also have carrot sticks and mustard (thanks, Wasted) and butternut squash soup, which is about 120 calories for half the carton. I'm not going to count coffee calories, I've decided. It's caffeine, which excuses the calories I get from the 1/2 cup of soy milk I take mine with (in any case, a little soy or skim milk daily is nothing to be feared, in my opinion). Coffee is pretty much ritual for me at this point, anyway, and I don't even care that I might be discounting up to 180 calories by dismissing it from my daily intake totals. Whatever. Anything's better than what I've been doing lately - but a week of pure, dedicated restriction will undoubtedly be the fastest way to get rid of the water weight I've clocked up over the past fortnight. Whether or not I'll keep it up abroad, is a whole other question, and one I find highly intimidating to face at the current minute.
It's time to move my life on. And it's not moving on as long as I stay like I am now. Gabrielle the Fatty. Sometimes I wish I had a new identity and a new set of friends and a new name and a new body and a new everything.
I haven't spoken to Tina in a week, and suddenly I get wind of the fact that she now has a boyfriend?! So glad I'm still in the loop (not)! I wonder about them sometimes. My 'friends', I mean, or who's left of them. Is it really, really pathetic that I'm hurt she didn't tell me? Probably. I'm most likely jealous that it isn't me with the good news. But there you go. That's life.
And something else... Last night, on the longest bloody waitressing shift of my life, I met... a guy. 19 years old, sandy brown hair, cheekbones to die for. Musician - of course. And I can't stop thinking about him. The weird thing is, I'm not sure I'll ever see him again. If I do, I do, and I guess that'll be fate's way of telling me something, right? It's one of life's most profound, but most depressing moments, when you finally click with a person, you just click... and you talk about all this stuff, you share your mind with them over the course of an evening, you give them a little piece of yourself... then you look at them again and you realise you're kind of in love with this... stranger. Except, it's like, they probably know you better than your own friends. Because you just cut to the important bits, you let them see it all in just a few words, you showed them the window to your very soul. You look at them and you see the way their face looks under the streetlamp and how pretty the smoke looks coming out of their mouth, and you think, I wish I could kiss you... I wish I could know you, but I might never, and maybe this will just be a moment. That's the stuff that really, really fucks with my head. I meet these perfect people for a millisecond and then they're gone, without a trace, and it makes my heart hurt, because I might never see them again, and then it'd be like it only ever existed in my mind. I'm so depressed thinking that might have been... it. Motivation to book a shitload of shifts for when I get back in April, on the off chance we might be working together again. Cry. Cry. Sob sob sob.
I'm totally sleep-deprived, which, in combination with being sad and weepy about stuff already, is making me petty. Time to close my eyes and wait until the morning comes.
Vive la revolution!
Sigh.
Unggggh. Words can't express how full and ill and disgusted I feel with myself. I miss the days when I wasn't disgusted with myself, and I was actually proud of what I'd eaten. It's not even like I can excuse it with saying I burnt off some calories beforehand - or afterwards - if you know what I mean. Oh no. There was none of that. Sometimes I wonder even if he even wants to sleep with me still. It's no wonder, considering I've gained around 20 lbs since we first met (oh, God) and not of those lbs has gone to my boobs, as far as I'm aware. Even now, he's texting me, trying to egg on some kind of late-night-sext-scapade, but I'm pretty sure he'd never actually suggest sex in real life. He seems to be, like, this special breed of guy who is just fairly content with oral sex alone, and never actually wants to make the move to sleep with me. What a little tease.
So. The deathlist. Veggie burger (the biggest one I've ever seen); 1/2 large portion fries; 2 slices garlic cheese pizza; and about 4 different, very high-cal condiments. And then the binge that ensued once he'd left, because apparently all that food wasn't enough for me. Jesus Christ. It's a wonder he still wants to kiss me when I eat like this. Obviously, I have very big problems.
Now I'm up at 2am downing glass upon glass of diet coke, hoping it will wash away at least some of the crap currently in my intestines, along with my sorrows.
I've honestly had enough of this. I've had enough of the 150s. I've had enough of looking at myself in the mirror and cringing. I've had enough of over-eating night after night, with no way to get rid of it (bulimia isn't an option when you live in a house with two very weight-conscious women, and only one bathroom). So all of this leaves me with only one option left: restriction. Not that I mind this. If I could go the next week on 300-500 calories a day tops, curbing my desire to binge as best I can, I might actually stand a chance of going to LA with a shred of self-confidence in tact. If I keep this up, though, I'm looking at more depressive episodes over my lack of control, possibly more weight gain, and my self-esteem left in tatters on the floor - indefinitely.
It's fine. It's cool. I have bran cereal (high fibre, and takes a long time to nibble). I also have carrot sticks and mustard (thanks, Wasted) and butternut squash soup, which is about 120 calories for half the carton. I'm not going to count coffee calories, I've decided. It's caffeine, which excuses the calories I get from the 1/2 cup of soy milk I take mine with (in any case, a little soy or skim milk daily is nothing to be feared, in my opinion). Coffee is pretty much ritual for me at this point, anyway, and I don't even care that I might be discounting up to 180 calories by dismissing it from my daily intake totals. Whatever. Anything's better than what I've been doing lately - but a week of pure, dedicated restriction will undoubtedly be the fastest way to get rid of the water weight I've clocked up over the past fortnight. Whether or not I'll keep it up abroad, is a whole other question, and one I find highly intimidating to face at the current minute.
It's time to move my life on. And it's not moving on as long as I stay like I am now. Gabrielle the Fatty. Sometimes I wish I had a new identity and a new set of friends and a new name and a new body and a new everything.
I haven't spoken to Tina in a week, and suddenly I get wind of the fact that she now has a boyfriend?! So glad I'm still in the loop (not)! I wonder about them sometimes. My 'friends', I mean, or who's left of them. Is it really, really pathetic that I'm hurt she didn't tell me? Probably. I'm most likely jealous that it isn't me with the good news. But there you go. That's life.
And something else... Last night, on the longest bloody waitressing shift of my life, I met... a guy. 19 years old, sandy brown hair, cheekbones to die for. Musician - of course. And I can't stop thinking about him. The weird thing is, I'm not sure I'll ever see him again. If I do, I do, and I guess that'll be fate's way of telling me something, right? It's one of life's most profound, but most depressing moments, when you finally click with a person, you just click... and you talk about all this stuff, you share your mind with them over the course of an evening, you give them a little piece of yourself... then you look at them again and you realise you're kind of in love with this... stranger. Except, it's like, they probably know you better than your own friends. Because you just cut to the important bits, you let them see it all in just a few words, you showed them the window to your very soul. You look at them and you see the way their face looks under the streetlamp and how pretty the smoke looks coming out of their mouth, and you think, I wish I could kiss you... I wish I could know you, but I might never, and maybe this will just be a moment. That's the stuff that really, really fucks with my head. I meet these perfect people for a millisecond and then they're gone, without a trace, and it makes my heart hurt, because I might never see them again, and then it'd be like it only ever existed in my mind. I'm so depressed thinking that might have been... it. Motivation to book a shitload of shifts for when I get back in April, on the off chance we might be working together again. Cry. Cry. Sob sob sob.
I'm totally sleep-deprived, which, in combination with being sad and weepy about stuff already, is making me petty. Time to close my eyes and wait until the morning comes.
Vive la revolution!
Sigh.
Wednesday, 20 March 2013
Walking contradiction
I can't understand myself. I want to be thin. I'd like to be 128 lbs, maybe 124 again some day. That was a nice number, while it lasted. But I'm so far away from that, and it's been so many years since I had that kind of control, that it seems like an impossible task. I want to be strong, also, but to be strong I can't break my body down. I can't subsist on 600 calories a day, which is what it seems to take, these days, to get anywhere. I want to be a woman, I want to be an adult, I want to take care of people. But sometimes I feel like a lost little boy, a street urchin, abandoned and bewildered and I need people to take care of me.
Life is so confusing. My own head is confusing. I babysat this evening, and boy told me I had a fat stomach. I know he's only 5 and it's probably all a joke to him. But he's right. I'm right. I know I am. I know I'm not delusional when I see myself as large. Sure, maybe some outfits can hide it better than others, and maybe my pretty hair and pretty eyes detract from how pudgy my face and upper arms have become. But I see it. I see it all. At the beginning of the day, and at the end. The minute boy falls asleep, I'm in the cupboard, scrabbling for anything I can find, trying not to leave a trace.
Perhaps I should work on becoming thin first, then improving my strength. I'm strong now. I may weigh a lot but it's not all fat. I get comments on my muscle tone all the time. It's not enough though. I want to see the faint definition of abs, next to hipbones you can grab a hold of. I want the flab on my arms and legs to melt off. I keep crying thinking about how awful it'll be when I'll see Alfie at the end of this week, and I'll take off my clothes, and he'll see how chubby I've become.
2425 calories isn't going to cut it.
Life is so confusing. My own head is confusing. I babysat this evening, and boy told me I had a fat stomach. I know he's only 5 and it's probably all a joke to him. But he's right. I'm right. I know I am. I know I'm not delusional when I see myself as large. Sure, maybe some outfits can hide it better than others, and maybe my pretty hair and pretty eyes detract from how pudgy my face and upper arms have become. But I see it. I see it all. At the beginning of the day, and at the end. The minute boy falls asleep, I'm in the cupboard, scrabbling for anything I can find, trying not to leave a trace.
Perhaps I should work on becoming thin first, then improving my strength. I'm strong now. I may weigh a lot but it's not all fat. I get comments on my muscle tone all the time. It's not enough though. I want to see the faint definition of abs, next to hipbones you can grab a hold of. I want the flab on my arms and legs to melt off. I keep crying thinking about how awful it'll be when I'll see Alfie at the end of this week, and I'll take off my clothes, and he'll see how chubby I've become.
2425 calories isn't going to cut it.
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