Day 7 & 8

Been a bit of a rickety few days, fell off the wagon somewhat. Stupidly decided to take these fat-inhibiting pills for weight loss with... ahem... somewhat disastrous effects. Needless to say, shall not be doing that again.

Weight's back up around 198, which is incredibly frustrating. Seems like my metabolism only really responded by moving in the right direction after I shifted to <1000 calories, so that's what we shall be going with. Had Soho ramen dinner with one of my work colleagues, and it was fun but I have a pregnant looking stomach afterwards. Realise I can no longer digest such quantities of food. 

Very much considering trying ABC, but I want to do it once I've moved in to my new flat. Something mega fucking extreme to get back into the 170s, which is the short-term goal. 189 by Halloween now looking unlikely, but back on the wagon tomorrow. 700-1000 calories until I hit 190. Then 600. I can do it. I've done it before. 

Day 6

 Here's the trick: the plan continues even when we fall off the wagon. That's the only way it will ever stick; become a means of life. I know I gained from yesterday, I can feel it. That's why I'm reeling it in and carrying on today as if nothing has happened. I mustn't lose the streak. Finally, I feel like restricting below 1000 calories is possible for the first time in years - and I know it's the only way I can lose. It might be extreme as fuck, and I'm fully prepared to admit that. But in the wake of massive anxiety about holding onto my job, my friendship, my sobriety, and any semblance of a love life, I'll have my eating disorder ticking over in the background. My safety net. My secret weapon. My old faithful, reliable friend. 

Food so far today:

- Homemade parsnip, potato & leek soup (180) 
- Salted pretzels w/ mustard (125)
- Carrot sticks (80) 
- Creamy dip (200)
- Diet Coke (1) 

For supper I have the rest of the sweet & sour quorn thing I made yesterday, with cauliflower rice. It's a bit weird but I have covered it in hot sauce so it's at least vaguely filling and palletable. 

Reliably, I got a text from Bruiser informing me that his son may be coming home to his flat tonight, and therefore getting a drink is probably off. Secretly, I was hoping he would cancel, as I was planning on doing some initial packing tonight, and I also worry I'm not in a fit state to see him. I'd rather be thin and happy and not give a fuck about him when we next meet. But my outrage and sense of rejection trumped this in the moment and I felt angry and let down, again. I think I need to throw myself properly into NA. My addiction knows no bounds when it comes to him, just like with the drugs. And for that reason it's a good idea to sublimate. to throw myself wholeheartedly and headlong into restriction like the good old days. For it's all discipline this time. And I want to get addicted to that sense of absolutely making my body into the beautiful instrument I know it is, beneath all these layers of unwanted fat.

The initial goals are as follows:

- 189 by Halloween 

- 175 by Christmas  

- 160 by March 1 

- 140 by next summer 

Day 5

Weight = 192.8 lbs this morning 

Today's death list:

-- 3 x Fibre One 90 Chocolate Popcorn bars (258)
-- Caramel rice cake (51)
-- Quorn sweet & sour chicken with cauliflower rice (500)
-- Diet Coke (1)
-- Hot chocolate (39)
-- Marshmallows (30) 

...and then had somewhat of a binge this evening. Total number won't have been over 1,500, but still, not great.

May or may not be seeing the married man tomorrow night. I feel like I'm about to take on the biggest adult responsibility of my life - the ownership of a flat - and my childish side is just pulling out all the stops. Begging Cara for my drugs back after I made her promise not to give them to me. Slipping back into hysterical borderline personality mode with Bruiser over the phone last night. 

Truth be told, I can't wait to get away from Cara and her fucked up sister. It's become tense between us due to the fact that I owe her money, and she's become snippy with me. Tonight she patronised the fuck out of me and said she thought I wasn't in a great place. I put this down to jealousy. 

I need to turn my attention to the future. I need to get out of this job, figure out a plan, figure out someone nice and normal to live with and turn myself into the image of thinness, fascination and success I've always dreamt of. I don't need anyone else's negativity holding me back. I need to get my independence back.    

(PS. Re-watching Fresh Meat for nostalgia's sake. Might just get another Master's degree for fun some time, I miss the vibes of university.)

Day 4/ The new, old thing

195.8 lbs this morning.  

Intake: 

-- Chedds nibbles (55)
-- Laughing Cow cheese dip (78) 
-- Egg-fried bean sprouts and onions (250) 
-- Caramel rice cake (51) 

5.2 pounds down. It doesn't even seem to be registering to my brain that I'm restricting again. It's weird. It's been so long, but it's like this old dance my body knows incredibly well. I've just slipped slightly comfortably back into it, like an old jacket. It took a year of bingeing to wake up to the fact that this is the solution. To be a bit fucking extreme for a while because quite honestly, I left myself with no other options. I'll be honest about it. I won't become one of those toxically positive people who bullshits, who goes on about how they lost weight through 'eating right and working out'. This is fully disordered. But I know that it works. And I know if I activate this part of me, it will replace the more harmful addiction to stimulants and unsuitable men that almost ruined my life this year. It will become my new "thing". The new, old thing.

This time a year ago, I weighed 174 lbs. I was still sleeping with the married man, I was still trying to funnel the entire universe up my left nostril, I was drinking heavily, I was taking triple doses of my medication. It doesn't matter how I got there, but it wasn't sustainable. I wasn't aware that it would all fall apart again. I have to try to push harder this time. I have to let the weight go, psychologically. Because it's not just about restriction. It's about changing gears. A different mindset. Falling back in love with this body I have, this difficult body.

It's going to be slightly agonising getting out of this weight range. To be honest, yes, 5 lbs is good, but this won't register to me as something that's truly "working" until I dip below 180. And if I restrict to 1200 calories or less every day, which is the plan, I could get there by Christmas. 

I don't know what my eventual goal is. The goal in general, I suppose, is to just not be overweight anymore. That means anywhere in the 130-160 lb weight range. But we're miles away from there yet. And it's a lot of weight to lose. It will be dramatic. People will notice, and comment. But maybe that's okay. Maybe it's actually alright to be noticed. 

Day 3

-- Peperami (70) 
-- Banana (90) 
-- Cheese & ham wrap (221) 
-- PSL (120)
-- Chedds nibbles (55)
-- Weird chickpea crisp things (66)
-- Crackerbread (60)
-- Steamed broccoli (50)
-- Bolognese (200)  

Total: 932 

I drank plenty of tea and diet Coke also. 

My immune system is truly shit right now. I've had a sinus cold, I guess because of the dramatic drop in temperature. I've started taking turmeric, so hopefully that helps.

Got my period the night before last, still feeling unusually low. 196.8 lbs this morning. The scales are moving in the right direction but honestly, this isn't going to be easy. I've got a long way to go.  

The switch

I feel seasonal depression sinking in, with the darker evenings and the dramatic change in temperature, and it feels like on one hand, I've never been better equipped to handle it, and on the other, completely overwhelmed and intimidated by my usual lack of vices to cope - no more pills, no more poison, no more reckless escapades with men - and by the uncertainty ahead, even though the uncertainty is the GOOD type of uncertainty. It also feels extremely weird to be posting here. Like I've gone back in time. These moments can be big triggers for my bipolar. Friday night I shook in the rain with nervous excitement as T, the first guy I ever kissed, ever loved (as much as a thirteen-year-old really can be in love) came to meet me at a Soho pub to recount life, love, loss. I wept with euphoric joy on the way home, because it was like an old wound opened, then closed again all at once. These things, I feel them down to the ground. Down to the very bottom of my soul. Sometimes I forget I have this emotional capacity at all and it scares me, and exhilarates me, in equal measure.

In some ways, returning to the blog seems to have been getting into my substrate in a good way, as far as weight loss motivation goes. I don't know if I can really call it "good", but it is different. The shift, the internal switch, which occurs when you change gears like that. It happens on a deeply unconscious level. I don't hate myself anymore. But I'm waking up to the fact that I'm not supposed to be overweight. It's not my fault, but it's happened and I have to deal with it now in the most practical way I know how: by dramatically culling my caloric intake, moving more, and becoming hooked on the feeling of hunger. I've been bingeing and overeating at night time for years. It's a habit that can only be broken by going cold turkey and realising that I desire something else more than I desire late-night comfort. What I desire is to get my old body back. And I know it won't be like before. I know it will be different this time. I feel it.

Case in point, I stepped on the scales this morning and they read 197.8. I've lost 4 lbs in one day. This doesn't mean much, but it's a promising start. I feel like if I kept going in this manner it would be no trouble at all to hit 170s by January, which is really bizarre, because the last time I was below 180 was 2022, when I was doing a shit load of stimulants and eating keto. That wasn't sustainable. My body didn't like it. It tried to wriggle out of that mold and very quickly I returned to my higher set-point, 185-195. I've bounced around there ever since, and then I hit 200, and things really went downhill. I dissociated.

I walked for hours today on the King's Road after tutoring, got some winter sun on my face. Then I went out again for a brisk evening walk with Cara, and it was bloody freezing, but I felt good that I was hungry and burning calories. I've already gone down a belthole. I bought size 18 trousers from M&S last week, and they're already loose around my waist. It's really odd but I feel myself getting sucked back in. I like it. I like the vanishing feeling.  

I'm not meant to be overweight. I won't be overweight in a few months from now. Not ever again. There's no need. The extra layer of fat won't protect me anymore. It's done its job up to a point, but I can take it from here. 

Intake: 

-- 2 pieces of toast with butter and marmite (200)
-- Pumpkin spice latte (190) 
-- Veg stirfry w/ quorn pieces (150) 
-- Watercress and mozarella salad (140) 
-- Homemade mushroom soup, parmesan cheese (180) 
-- Bailey's (60)  

Total: 920 

I'm back, bitch

Literally could not think of a better title for this post. 

I need it. I miss it. I started this blog over a decade ago. Last time I posted was over six years ago. 

Christ. Shall we recap?

In a nutshell, since the last post, we:

- Graduated university with a very reasonable 2:1

- got over the breakup with Lina, and moved to South London with my mother - where I started bartending, writing a book about bartending, and losing a lot of weight, and eventually found A

- moved in with A, who was a complete shit, and a junkie. Turned into a junkie myself. No, I mean, really. I developed quite the serious speed problem in my twenties, which I'm still paying for. (Thanks, Dr. Dude who gave me all that Ritalin while I was at university!)

- got pregnant (not planned. Awful. Horrible. Scarring! Abortion, cheating partner, followed by a second abortion cause the first one didn't work - lost my health and became chronically ill) 

- slept with a fuck ton of men and women, most of whom were deeply terrible for me

- became a primary school teaching assistant, but speed addiction and health issues meant having to come clean to my mother and quit the job to sort myself out 

- ran away to LA to recover, met R on the precipice of the pandemic, a funny Californian hippy who I really loved, but was ultimately quite a useless bloke and then in the end a really shitty bloke. Surprised? No, me neither.

- got a masters in creative writing, graduating in one year with a first and a published book under my belt (not bad for a manic depressive drug addict!!) while also getting to know my half-sister and handling the aforementioned Californian with kid gloves over zoom

- began an affair with a married man which may or may not still be slightly going on. Moved in with Cara

- found out my mother had stage 3 lymphoma (that was a less than ideal one). R couldn’t handle it, we ended 

- suffered yet another horrible depression, quite reasonably, but have worked really hard to deal with it and am now in probably the most stable place someone like me could possibly be. I write, and I sell books for a living (shit pay but I am waiting for the big break). I have friends and prospects. I have a future. I am moving into my own flat in a matter of weeks, with my name on the lease.  

In all this time, my weight has spanned the breadth of an almost 70-lb range. I've been 140 at my lowest (whilst bartending and speeding at 25) and 210 at my highest (right before I turned thirty). 

Now I'm 201 and yes, you heard that right, I'm thirty, and we're going to be starting this all over again. Broke, overweight, life not without its stresses - but a hell of a lot happier (and smarter) than I used to be.

There was a clear set of reasons why my body gained the weight, and ultimately, I forgive those reasons. But this is about a new (old) chapter. Going back to basics. Making myself accountable again. Giving myself the body I deserve after all the shit that's happened to me. Taking care of business. Accepting what's come has come and gone, that it's in the past, that it's about moving forward now. Becoming fucking brilliant. 

-- Maple oats (180)
-- Ham and mustard sandwich (270)
-- Gummy bear (5)
-- Sausage (90)
-- Savoy cabbage, sauteed with chorizo and garlic butter (350) 

Total (895)