...fifteen unapproved comments in the space of like...an hour?
I'm not sure who linked to me, but whoever did, I fucking love you. Thank you to everyone for all the love. You guys rock my literal pants off.
No joke. I'm now sitting here sans trousers.
(Not really. I have them on still. But I wish I could rip them off....I'm at my job I'm close to quitting, so it's really hard to RESIST that temptation, too!)
I think I'm turning bullimic.
I broke my vow and purged in a public facility. Two times in two days. I've lost almost 7 pounds these past 7 days, but as many of you like me out there know, almost seven is not yet seven, and fifty still wouldn't even be good enough. I've come to the firm conclusion that I don't think I'll ever be done in my own mind. There will always be flaws and faults, and I'll just have to keep going until something happens to make me stop.
To those of you reading this considering getting into the disorder, or returning from your recovery, take this as your message to stop.
A friend of mine on another site died from this fairly recently. And I find myself toeing the same line she did. She collapsed while running, and injured her head, falling into a coma before she finally perished. Only a year older than me.
I've collapsed--not quite fainted--three times.
This is life. This is life slowly slipping.
I hope you enjoy watching me plummet. I enjoy sharing my fall.
Live vicariously through me, but do not repeat these mistakes. I am an entertainer, here to martyr myself for your amusement.
Part of me feels slightly bitter, though I think that's the jalapeno cheese I just regurgitated. I don't feel anymore depressed. The Prozac my shrink gave me was supposed to help control the impulses to binge and purge, but in fact, it only makes it easier to starve, and I feel much more calm when I throw up. My fingers pet that flap of flesh that separates lungs from gullet, and the food comes up like a gentle tide from my mouth. I've even stopped freaking out when a little bit of the toilet water splatters on my face. The sensation of winning by losing is so much more precious to me.
I went shopping.
Pulled on a pair of size 3's. They fit loosely.
Took a size 2 dress, just for a bit of fun, to see how far off I was from fitting. Took a size 4, which is my normal.
The 4 slipped off my shoulders.
The 2 fit me like a charm.
I bought it.
I can't afford it. But I think I would have died if I didn't walk out right then with that dress.
Up close and personal with a set of the most hideous calves you've ever seen rocked in a little black dress:
I got it for my brothers wedding, technically. And the woman who was running the dressing room said it looked "sexy". I plan to wear a white lace cami under it, to hide the tits, and also the nastiness of the bra and gross underarms and flabby skin on the side.
How is it that I'm so large, and yet wear something that's a size 2? I see that I'm getting tinier, but it's like...I don't exactly know how to word it....
....like taking me, and shrinking me, but...keeping the fat?
Like...it's still there. The shapes and rolls and nastiness. They're all still there.
But they're just...smaller versions now.
I wish I could lose weight in my nose.
It and my ears speak volumes to my Jewish and....uhm...elephant? heritage? I don't know. I know the nose is my Jewish side. The ears must be because someone in my families past bumped uglies with Dumbo. Can't think of anything else.
I love you all. Have my babies.
Wish me luck.
I was 120 this morning.
I want to be down to 119 by tomorrow. Or 119.something. Just so long as I see that drop to under 120, but I doubt it. I ate too much, and didn't throw it all up, because I fail like that.