'nother night with boy

It was good. Better than it has been previously. He came out especially to meet me. Sat down opposite, exchanging timid glances and huge unsuppressable smiles while I pretended to pay attention to my friend beside me. Boy introduced her to his housemate, who said "yes, I live with boy, and every now and then with Pasco". I felt like a noticed addition to the household, pattering footsteps passing in the night. Oh, Pasco must be round again.

There was an onslaught of female flesh thrown at boy all night. His previous lovers, pretty friends and even prettier friends of pretty friends. Drunk and draping and slitted eyes all over me, "how dare she who does she think she is?" And with my every smirking accusation I was met with the reassurance that they were all "boring" and I kind of believed him. I have been chosen by somebody that everybody else wants.

It is a double edged sword - the constant insecurity and carefully masked jealousy met with the feeling that I am special. I don't suppose it's healthy. Feeling inferior, like I am lucky to be with him, treading so lightly, so carefully. Certain always that each time will be the last and I will surely lose him. We had a loosely etched plan to see each other this evening and I am waiting, waiting, for his cancellation or else he may just casually "forget".

I vommed once today and I intended to do it even as I was eating. I can't stop feeling just a little... blech. Like I need something but I also need to be empty. Very thirsty but nothing will quench it. I wonder if he will come tonight. Maybe that's all I need.

Broken Record

Oh don't look so shocked! We all knew I was going to do it.

I'm taking plenty of positives away from it though. I was reasonably gentle on myself, no salt water or bicarb or other nasty household emetics. Took it easy, didn't push myself to get up every last tiny thing. Didn't panic. And didn't start eating again immediately afterward. Plus the entire time I was eating beforehand I was adamant I was going to keep it down. Puking was an afterthought. Which is still bad, but less bad than gorging myself with the intention of puking later.

OK, so I've blathered out all my excuses. I shouldn't excuse myself too much. There are those floodgates to think about. Tomorrow... I will do better.

oooh

I overate and I want to throw up. It wasn't a binge, but it was more than I wanted. I could throw up easily. I would feel better. I wouldn't need to cram myself full of junk food first... I don't need to binge. Just quickly get rid of what's in me now. Nobody is home. It would be easy. All to easy.

But I know... once I let myself do it once, I open the floodgates. I'm trying trying trying to justify it... I know it is not a good idea. But I just hate feeling so full... and I know I could be empty again in a matter of moments...

S.T.O.P.

Today's plan went well off the rails. Firstly because after my dutiful breakfast of egg whites I went to work, managed about an hour, then ran to the bathroom to (unintentionally) projectile vomit. Secondly, because after spending an hour in the foetal position in a hospital disabled toilet I slunk home to bed and woke up to chicken. I ate A LOT of chicken and A LOT of fruit. Plus a little bit of chocolate and ice cream. It wouldn't be so bad, except that I didn't make it out of bed til about 5 in the evening so all the eating was quite smoodged together and now I feel icky and full.


BUT now I am going to stop. Not a morsel more. I'm going to wash my hair, brush my teeth and read your blogs til it's time for bed.

I shan't be vomiting, oh no sirree
I can handle this food inside of me

And the vomiting all morning doesn't count because it was not self induced. So hellooooo 2 days of not purging. My thighs are still massive and my anxiety is still prickling up my spine but I can deal with it later. Right now I have to NOT VOMIT and that is the most important thing in the world. So, I need a plan for tomorrow. My friend and I bought a massive slab of beef fillet which we have been intending to eat tomorrow. It will be fine, I will chew slowly and enjoy it and think of how much I really need the iron. Aside from that, it will be fruit and veg only.

Anise, dear soul mate, and Lulu and Savory, my precious pets, and everybody else, I could not have made it through 2 days without you! I love you til the ends of the earth. Here's going for the big 3...

xxx

I didn't make a plan for today...

Good golly I don't even remember writing last night's post. I was very, HORRIBLY drunk. Was I really so sad last night? I don't recall. But even in my alcoholic stupor I didn't eat anything. The last-minute-art-party that threatened to derail me was overpowered by my own willpower.

I'm fairly sure I'm still quite drunk, but in about 2 minutes I need to head for work. I'm still undressed and in bed. I need a plan for today. I'm concerned that I'm just going to be in eaty eaty mcDrunk town eat everything in sight. I can feel the craving for pretty much every kind of illicit food on the planet creeping into my body.

Need a plan
Need a plan
Need a plan

OK... here goes... egg white for breakfast, fruit and veg for the rest of the day!


And I'm pretty sure I'll be having alcohol for dinner again...

I DIDN'T PUKE YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!!

today i didnt vomit.
im hiccupping violently amd involuntarily
and there are tears streaming down my face
and i HATE MYSELF SO MUCH AND NOBODY COULD POSSIBLY LOVE ME
AND ALL THAT JAZZ

and i really feel so sick and so horrible

but today i did not vomit
and in 24 hours i did not vomit
and to you this may mean nothing

but to me
today
it means everything

because today I DID NOT VOMIT

Every night...

...from now on I will form a single, one day plan for the next day. One day at a time. One 24 hour plan at a time. Formulated to fit in with whatever lies ahead.

Tomorrow is a work day. It is also donut day at work. Not for me. For me it will be fruit and vegetable day. As much as I like, as much as I can eat. No limits, no purging. If the donuts look too delicious, I will know they are not nearly as delicious as a huge, glowing peach, brimming with sweet fresh nectar. At 7.30 in the evening there is a pilates class at my gym with my favourite instructor. It will be my first time at the gym in weeks, but I will go.

Every night,


One day at a time.

all at sea

I feel. so. sick.

I weigh nearly 58kg right now. The most in ages. After so recently getting back down to 55. I think, I hope, most of it is water. Horrible sickly salt water. I'm swimming in it.


I drink it to help me throw up. Copious amounts of sea salt and bicarbonate soda in water. It makes me grimace to chug it down. It makes me hate myself for creating such torture. It makes me furiously sad and furiously angry at the same time. Each bitter, cloying gulp through clenched teeth. But it makes me puke.

Today I think I overdid it. So desperate to get everything up. And I think that a lot of that horrible salty slush has leeched into my blood. My stomach is empty but it is still churning. My scales told me my body fat percentage was 16 and it's usually more like 20, so I'm hoping, desperately hoping that there are litres of extra fluid sloshing around inside me accounting for my enormous weight gain. The sight of my thighs makes me want to close my eyes forever. I feel like screaming. I feel like I want to never eat again and starve completely until my weight is back where I need it to be. But soon, I know, I will feel like eating. I will be ravenous and insatiable. I will be powerless against hunger, I have forgotten how to enjoy it. And I will justify eating and eating, more and more and more until I am swimming in a salty hell again.

I'm thinking of going to find myself some help. I think, now, I actually CANNOT stop without help. Fuck FUCK my thighs. FUCK. They're huge FUCK

Oh jesus I am losing it.
There's nowhere to go, there's nowhere to hide, I'm stuck in my fucking horrible body and I can't do a fucking thing about it. I'm sorry for this immense whinge but I am feeling so scattered, so out of control, how wretchedly horrible. So angry. So alone. Such a miserable pathetic piece of shit.

And I feel so sick.

I fucking threw up
I've lost it

help me a little

I need to not throw up for a few days. My cheeks are swollen, my heart rate is rapid and uneven, and my neck and ribs and back hurt. In that way that creeps up on me and makes me realise that things have stepped up a notch and really aren't good.

So please, and I know this is selfish given how unsupportive I've been lately, but please, if you could leave me some little morsel of encouragement... Just let me know I can do this. 3 days. I NEED to not throw up for 3 days.

Thank you
Love
x P

eat your little heart out

Today was one of those days that went on forever. Granted I didn't sleep much last night, I woke up early to the boy I went to bed with, and now it's 3am. So it HAS genuinely been a really long day. It is still peculiar though to feel so incredibly far away from the start of it.

I want to say that I woke up "in the arms of" the boy I went to bed with. But I didn't. I don't think it's like that. It's screwing and sleeping and the occasional uncomfortable glance. Mostly on my part (honestly I'm not sure he even looks at me at all). It's the same boy of lamenting posts passed. And it's the same lament. I never wanted anything from him but as soon as he offers it I suddenly need it and live in abject horror that at any moment it will be taken away.

I feel so infinitesimally small I could stream through the eye of a needle.


Tonight I poured my little heart out and waited for hours for some sort of reply and any sort of validation. All I got was silence and that same sickening fear - that someone can be so powerful over me as to take away something I never even wanted in the first place and then suck away the rest of me with it. It's so important to me to be important to him. To everybody. Just like everybody else, the centre of my own universe, so special special SPECIAL.

It's the constant tugging aching horrible pain of knowing, really KNOWING you are nobody and nothing. It's true, don't tell me otherwise, we all have to accept that it's true. I just wish people wouldn't offer me the hope that I might mean something, only to take it away.

awake?

I'm not sure.


After my consternation last night, this morning I woke up and I'm 54.9kg.

That is my goal weight one.

I haven't been following any particular plan lately. I get up, skip breakfast, go to work, avoid lunch, keep busy all day, ignore the cakes and cookies and morning/afternoon teas littering the staff rooms and nursing stations. It is relatively easy. I have a can of diet coke glued to my hand most of the time. When I get home, I intend to fast through the evening but always end up eating, usually too much, and always throw it up before bed. Because I'm only eating once during the day, it is pretty easy to throw up pretty much the entire day's intake. It doesn't feel like this is a very good thing. But it seems to be working...

I don't know if I want it to. But I do know that if I try to eat normally I will overeat constantly and I will gain weight. Better of two evils? Problem is, if I ever do get my weight down it is not a case of knowing WHEN to stop, but knowing HOW to.

WAKE UP

Today I watched as an anorexic girl my own age, weighing in at 28kg, screamed and cried and tore through a psych ward with more power than a 150kg schizophrenic. Overturning trays, slamming her supplement drinks into the wall and pummeling her fists into the nurses. When she finally settled she stood in the shower in a pool of her own tears and clutched in horror at her fat-fat-too-fat body.

Somewhere between her and I lies this mystical perfect place.

And you know what? I reckon it lies a lot closer to me than it does to her. What the FUCK am I doing? We gotta wake up, right?

I'm sorry sorry sorry sorry SORRY

I will find some time
And sort my stupid self out
And be back ASAP
x

dirty fat SLAPPER

Life is becoming insanely whirlwindy. Every day I go in to work wrecked and every evening when I knock off I get coerced into justonebeer. And every justonebeer leads into justabout50fuckingthousandbeers leads to no sleep leads to going in to work wrecked yet again.

I'm too busy to think properly about food and have been eating pretty much nothing except absolute tit loads of staff room cream biscuits. Then every night post booze binge I come up with some sort of horrible drunken food binge to throw up before bed. Which invariably cuts another hour out of my already diminished night's sleep.

I have huge gaping memory holes from the whole last week. Went through my phone this morning and there are so many drunken ranty misinterpreted text messages that I swear never existed previously. And last night a slept with a nurse, mostly to take my mind off the boy I'm trying so desperately not to fall in love with. It didn't really work.

I'm so sorry I haven't been commenting. I haven't been reading either. I can't! I'm too busy cementing my reputation as the hospital harlot.

un

sustainable.

first day
doctorness
afterworkdrinks
drinkdrivehomealone
11pm
grabawholepizza
eat
alone
car
river
sigh

very late
alarm set
tomorrow do over
tomorrow i will not eat ANYTHING

now
sleep
so
sleepy

collapse

you know when you've got tears streaming down your face and you don't know if it's because you're horribly upset or because your eye make up is running into your eyes?


fuck. I want him so badly yet I hate him so much and it's killing me. And it's 5am and all the world has closed down and there's nothing left. All I can possibly do is sleep but there is no way it will happen and all I can feel is this desperate yearning in this hideous limbo.


Edit: I feel suddenly compelled to mention, in case it didn't come through, I really REALLY fucking hate myself

hearts and hormones

I think I made a grave error.

The escalating sexual tension I have been sharing with a friend of mine finally reached boiling point last night when I got atrociously drunk and shagged him. It was awkward this morning, so to ease the tension we did it again. I like this boy, but I think I like the idea of him more than the reality of what we could ever possibly be. I never wanted more than the thrill of the flirt. I don't trust him, not enough, for anything real to happen. I've known this forever. I've been fine with it.

And then, sex, and EVERYTHING changes. Every time my phone beeps my heart pounds and I think "god please let it be him!" It isn't, and I sink. I want to find him and claw into him and have his hand in the small of my back. I only left him a few hours ago and all I want is to be with him. The panic and fear that he's now seen me vulnerable, but real and tactile. All mysteries unveiled, shine lost. Dull. And the possibility of rejection wrenching through me. I need him to want me so badly.

And I know that none of this makes sense and it isn't who I am or what I want. But sex changes everything because my biology has hijacked my common sense. This is horrid.


Not to mention I'm now stressed and psychotic and hitting new all time dignity lows. I remember blogging about the time I purged in a public park. Well tonight I trumped that by eating out of my garbage bin. It's a place where most bulimics wind up eventually...

Everything is fucked and scary. And kind of exciting!

What's Cooking?

I am one of those typical eating disordered types who seeks out relationships with food that don't necessarily involve eating it. I adore cooking and baking - the meticulous planning and recipe reading and ingredient shopping - but I'm terrible at ignoring the food once it is cooked. I have to taste. And then taste more. And then disaster strikes.



I also love cooking shows on TV. Savory might kill me for this, because I recall her hating them (sorry!). I can just sit and watch them for hours in bizarre fascination, and they don't actually compel me to cook and eat myself. I store up stockpiles of ideas of things I might one day cook if I ever return to normal, but there is no sense of urgency. I'm happy enough to just sit and watch. And it is safe. No threat of food.

Today is ABC day 5, 100 calories. I burnt off and extra 400 at the gym, giving me 500 total. I ate 100 at lunch and now I'm feeling pretty strong. And I have a whole afternoon of cooking shows lined up on TV to wile away the time. Today is a good day!

x

today:

OK.

Phew! Peer pressured into icecream, pretty sure I burnt most of it off at the gym.

Tomorrow: 100 calories... eeeeep!

I ain't gonna lie...

There has been some puking.

Twice today. The first time was when my sister made meringues. There was a big tray of them waiting to go into the oven when she left for work. I dipped my finger in one to taste it, then in true bulimic form found myself crouched over the tray scooping the entire lot into my mouth in huge sticky gobs. It came up so quickly and easily, giant soft marshmallows emerging out of my mouth and into the toilet. Then I did it again after my dinner, which fit into my calorie allowance but which made me uncomfortably full.

I did it once yesterday. After family dinner came family dessert and I couldn't handle the thought of either of them.

So... this is discouraging.

I have still been exercising and I've very effectively vomited everything that has exceeded my calorie limit (and then some). But the fat is clinging to me in a thick and immovable layer. I'm feeling pretty fucking despairing, like I'm never going to shift it. All is want is for it to be gone.

Big fat sad face :(
Pasco

New Rule:

Family Dinner.

Day 2 and the depression is swamping me already. I just can't starve without my brain dissolving in despair. I can see it and rationalise and try to calm myself down, but I can't stop feeling terrible. I'm at my parents' place now and I've used up all my daily calories, but my dad is making dinner and I feel too lonely to leave and go home to avoid it. So the new rule, "family dinner", means that if I am with my family and it happens to be dinner time, I can add an extra max 500 calories to the day to allow for it. These days will be limited to 2 max per week.

More contingency plans!

Pasco Rose in 2010

Most of the first day of 2010 has now passed me by, all sleeping and recuperation. It left little time for eating, so it is now 5 in the evening and I am empty. So empty. It feels like such a perfect place to start. Last night's flurry of chambourd and champagne and no dinner has left me startlingly hollow and my stomach is flatter than I've seen it in weeks. Lovely.

My incredible new scale just received its initiation and it was terribly impressive! I am 57kg and 18.8% fat. Unpleasant, but soon to transform. It also provided me with all of other delightful tidbits of information about my body composition and most of them were very positive. Apparently I am well hydrated, thin but muscular with the lowest reading of visceral fat possible, a metabolic age of 12 and a basic energy requirement of 1400 calories per day. I actually felt quite proud!

So as of today I am resolute. I will stick out my 50 days of ABC, following the same plan as pre-Christmas. If it becomes impossible or (heaven forbid) I actually get down to my goal weight I will convert it to ABC2, doubling the daily calorie allowance. Or perhaps adding 500 calories to each day. One needs a contingency plan. Now I am going to get stuck into some of my days 500 calories and open up my treasure trove of tablets that I have stashed away in waiting for this merry day. Bliss xxx

bleeeeargh what a day to start. unslept and disheveled and hungover and horrible. not a good state to weigh in. lots and lots and lots of water, shower, sleep a few more hours, wake up and go... i'll check in when i'm fractionally more decent