My eating hurts now.
So much. So fucking much going into my mouth.
I just binged to the point of feeling in pain. Where I was shaking. I broke down in tears begging myself to stop. Not because of weight.
But because I thought my stomach was going to explode.
Days and days of this now.
No more.
This hurts too much.


Ugh.
Time to make myself feel this hunger thing again.
I will not be eating myself sick every chance I get for my 23rd birthday.
It's on the 26th.
I will not be like this.
I will start my 23rd year in a HAPPY way.

Hoorah.

I feel like putting my head into my hands
and crying.

Not for me.

But for them.

I see the people I used to love and know, and their eyes are so filled with pain. The memories of war written so plainly on their faces when they think nobody sees. A one night stand with a boy who I barely talked to in High School, who was always so filled with joy, and I knew when he touched me that there was lies hidden behind his fingers, but I kept myself so distant. I didn't want to be attached. I don't like men.
But now I wish I could see him again.

He's back in Germany. He's leaving for Afghanistan again. His third or fourth tour of duty.
He has PTSD. He can't go anywhere without his gun. He can't sleep unless it's under his pillow.

He can't sleep by himself or the nightmares overtake him.

His friend told me all of this. His best friend.

I cried when I left the house. I cried, and thought of how much laughter had been on his face when we had rolled around. And how much I wanted to reach into him and just hold him for some reason, and now I understand. I want to kiss over every scar on his body those road side bombs gave him. I want to make his smiles real. I want to save him, and I don't know how.

And others I knew, who never went to the war.



Another boy who used to be so perfect. Never touched drugs or liquor or anything bad.
His arms are now covered in scars from where he's cut himself. He hasn't been sober in going on seven years.



None of us have reached the age of 25. Most of them are barely 23.

Barely old enough to drink.

Barely old enough to know what we're doing.

I have an eating disorder. Another has PTSD. Another is so fucked up on drugs and liquor he can't recognize his own face half the time. He lives on the streets when none of the guys has a couch he can crash on.



We've fallen apart.

One of my friends, a girl, is getting divorced.
The boys have been lost.

The girls are struggling to support their own minds.

The world has completely shattered them. And they hide their pain with smiles and just...live, and exist, because it's all they can do.

We weren't supposed to fall apart. We weren't supposed to be like this.
We were supposed to succeed. To have great dreams. To grow up. To eventually figure it out.



What happened to us?
What will happen to us?




I realized a few years ago--or thought I realized--that not all of us make it in the end.
I think I really got it yesterday.

I slept for almost 24 hours. When I wasn't sleeping, I was eating.
and when I wasn't doing either of those, I was trying not to cry.

So many people I know and who i went to school with and graduated with are dead.
Car accidents, murders...
...war.

Others...others are most likely going to be in the next few years.

We're not going to make it. Not all of us.

It's what makes the golden years so golden.
It's like getting a fucking medal.

"Congratulations. You lived this long. You beat the odds. You might not have made it in tact. But you're old enough to die and not have it be a super tragedy now."



Fuck everything.
This world is shit.
I want my innocence back.

HOLY FUCKING TITS

SIZE 3!

SIIIIIIZE 3 MOTHERFUCKERS.
OMFG OMG OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

I
AM
A
SIZE
THREE.


SIIIIIIZZZZEEEE THREEEEEE!

I JUST WENT TO THE STORE
PICKED UP THREES
WENT
"THESE WILL NOT FIT ME BUT I WANNA SEE HOW FAR I AM FROM THEM"
BUT GUESS WHAT?
THEY FIT
THEY FUCKING FIT
I NOW OWN SIZE THREE JEANS


SIZE THREE!!!!

AND I STILL HAVE 16 POUNDS TO LOSE!
I MIGHT ACTUALLY REACH A SIZE ZERO!!!!!!



EEEEEEE!

Oh hunger, how I despise thee.

Not regular hunger.
No.
Not the pain in the stomach.
The ache in the body.
Feeling it above your eyes and behind them, like a pressure starting on the bone, slipping down and threatening to squeeze them from your head. A heavy weight of feathers tickling the back of your head and down into your shoulders and back. A full body feeling that has nothing to do with cravings or pains in the belly, but everything to do with a structural outcry for sustenance. A plea for anything to sate a slowly progressing lack of nutrition and fuel.

It makes me tired. Too tired to make food. Too tired to do anything but put my head down and wish I could sleep. But think of how much I want to eat.

It's not even a binge type hunger. There is no threat of a binge.
I don't know what this feeling is.

It's like if I eat, I'll be sick at this point.
I haven't even been that low on calories.
Just progressive restriction, perhaps?




Or it could just be the sickness still in my system. Lingering and thick.



Today I was at 116.8lb's. I have no idea how I'm still losing. Or how I feel this sort of hungry. My calories have been around 900-1100 a day, and I haven't been working out at all. Perhaps it's general muscle atrophy. Perhaps it's millions of things.


I can't wait until the end of the week. My last week working graveyards.
Hoorah.

DO THE SPRINKLER!

..
.....
........EEEEEEEEEEEE EIGHTY FUCKING POUNDS HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!

Okay XD YES I realize it TODAY of all days, when I've gone up a little bit (HOORAH WATER WEIGHT or something) but OMFG. I'm starting to feel better, and actually HAPPY now. Plus, I was cracking up when reading all the comments, thinking, "INTERNATIONAL PRETTYWRECK CELEBRATORY DANCE!" So now I'm return dancing for all of you. And just for how awesome you guys are in DOING the wiggle dance for me yesterday, I solemnly vow that I, PrettyWreck, will at some point, post up a video or something of me doing the sprinkler. Yes, you read that right. I will post a video, or an animated gif, or something, of me doing the sprinkler, or the white boy dance. Or something. It'll be part of a progress post, most likely, when I get closer to my goal (WHICH IS NOW SO CLOSE I CAN TAAAASTE IT).




So yeah.

I'm now 117.4, which is GOOD considering I thought I'd jump up to like, 119 or something. Not sure why. But I think I need to hit the gym tomorrow or something, because I have a feeling I'm going to suddenly sky rocket for some reason. OHNOS WORRISOME.

Also. THURSDAY NIGHT/FRIDAY MORNING IS MY FINAL FUCKING NIGHT WORKING GRAVEYARD SHIFTS.

This means it will be HARDER to hide my disorder, but this also means that I will NOW BE AWAKE DURING THE FUCKING DAY.

I CAN HAVE A LIFE AGAIN, YOU GUYS.

IT WILL BE AMAZING.

I've also realized that I am very unfortunately shaped.

I have a lot of excess skin that I need to fix. And I need to get my boobs done, and very soon. I hate my boobs. But I have a very round rib cage. It's very LARGE. And I'm kind of starting to show some ribs, but I'm still fat. Which is confusing to my brain. Because I know my thighs are still like, massive. But...my stomach is now curved in under my ribs. But it's still a floppy belly. I think it's a lot of skin. I mean, it was ballooned out an extra ten inches, but still. Very unfortunately shaped. I just have to do lots of exercising to try and tighten up the skin, which utterly sucks. That's apparently harder than losing the weight. YAY for me :\

Also, I'm still really god damned tired, but wide awake. I feel A MILLION times better. I actually slept like the dead, without any pain, yesterday, which was such a wonderful feeling. But I really didn't want to wake up. So I'm going to bed early today,a nd hoping I get enough sleep before work.

And a friend comes in from Washington/Oregon (I forget where she lives right now. S he moves a lot) to visit this weekend, and it just so happens that I have a threeday weekend. And I start my new shift Monday, meaning I'll have to start waking up at noon, anyway, so I'll be awake when she is. And I'll get to see her. And I'll get to PLAY.

I turn 23 in 14 days.
I wonder if I can be down to 116 by then?
That would be very awesome.

I want to do something fun this birthday. Since...I don't even remember what the fuck I did for my last one. Too insecure, and living too much of a boring life. Hooray.

Too tired to be my own parade....

Woke up today and found out I was 117lb's. New low, and also the official marker of 80lb's lost. 70, since I weighed in at 187 on April 1st. I'm honestly surprised, because I woke up feeling so crummy, and went to bed feeling like shit. Yesterday, when I woke up, I went to Wendy's and got stale nuggets, fell asleep, woke up and had cereal, and then just kept eating. I didn't keep track of what I ate. It wasn't too terrible, I know that much. Meaning I don't think I exceeded 1400 calories, which...is actually really fucking bad. Holy shit. But it's still under the "normal" amount. I also had half a granola bar before bed, and a few bites of chicken my stepmom had boiled for broth. I was certain I was going to wake up still in the 118-119 range, which is, honestly, not a bad number, considering how sick I've been. But nope. I woke up at 117. Bloated, and in pain, and 117.

Huh.

I figure the number is going to go up when I start to get better. I think it has to be muscle mass MELTING or something. Whatever. All I know is I'm at work, and wanting to go to bed. And if I felt better, I might actually throw a parade for this landmark. 80lb's. My big pitbull/lab mix weighs only 10lb's more than that. My nephew weighs less than that. I have lost either the same amount of weight that makes up a large dog, or a beefy nephew.

I took my measurements, and since May, when I was at 170, I've lost 10 inches off my waist. I went from having a size 37 waist, to a 27. And the total inches I've lost all together, if you converted them into feet, would be taller than I am. 5.4 feet or something. I'm 4.9 feet (4'11.75 inches).

Weird that.

I'm sure if I were awake and feeling good enough to celebrate, or feel anything other than absolutely exhausted, I'd be dancing or something.

But I'm not. So...as my minions (followers, friends, allies, comrades at arms!, people I adore, loves of my life, apples of my eyes, light of my heart, &c. &c. &c....goodness, I'm a little silly right now, aren't I?) you should do a dance for me. You don't have to rejoice for me. Just wiggle your hands in the air, even if you're not happy. Go "Yaaaaay" and then be done with it.




I'd do it for you.

And it's not selfish, because I'm not asking you to be happy FOR me. I'm just asking you to express my own joy for a moment until I get better and can properly freak out and spew a million exclamation points all over the keyboard and bunches of omfg's and happy dances for myself. I'm sure it'll come in a day or two.




Also, I fell asleep at the desk at work. Got caught by someone (who I know and who won't tell) and they're like, "You were drooling." And I said, "No. I wasn't. I was...closely examining the desk while I spit polished it. Total difference."

For someone who forgot how to pronounce the word "purchasing" twice today from sheer sleepiness, I think that was pretty good.

Fever Dreams

"Scars show us where we've been. They don't have to dictate where we're going." - David Rossi, Criminal Minds

First off, to commenter KB (using initials), I'll be posting up more pics later on. SkinnyLove has asked about them, too. I normally tend to put them up every month or so, but there will be more pics later on ♥ Also, KB, when you comment, everything has to be approved, so I'll get your comments, but can make sure to delete them so no one else can see.


Beyond that, I've had a massive fever. Really bad nightmares. Awesome. I keep switching between binging and starving, but I've been staying at about 118 to 119. The sore throat is getting really bad, and is the worst when I first wake up, but I keep sleeeeeeeping. I just wish I'd get over this so I could get back to the gym and to my routine.
So I might not be commenting or posting a lot for the next day or two. This thing is seriously kicking my ass, and I'm just trying to sleep it off right now.

Have fun, dollfaces.