I got my fist, I got my plan, I got survivalism.

This is the beginning of the end. 

How long has it been since my last post? A few days? Has she only been with me for a few days? 

Heart in my mouth, feet already numb with cold, I peel off my clothing and inch onto my scale. The digital numbers flicker on the display, and my heart races faster. I know I've been binging this week. In my mind I think of all the junk food I bought. In this moment it doesn't matter that I bought one takeaway meal and it took me 3 days to finish. All I know is that I ate like shit and I expect gains. Last week my weight was 125.7lbs. I brace myself. 

The small mechanical screech that tells me the judging is done. Reluctantly I look down. 121.4lbs. It can't be. I step off and think for a few moments. How much did I really eat Ana? I step back on the scale and once again it tells me 121.4lbs. I try again. 121.4lbs. 

The moment is bittersweet. I am happy that I lost weight. No other feeling can compare to the sight of a smaller number on the scale. Nothing compares to it. Nothing. It must be the same as the greatest orgasm ever. It must be the same as the heroin addict's high. But to me, this is so much better. I try to hold onto this moment, freeze the feeling into my brain so that I can recall it when I am eating and stop myself. 

Is there guilt? I used to feel guilt. I used to think of the professor and worry about what he thinks. I still love him. That hasn't changed. But now I don't worry. Not even his kisses and hugs can compare to this. There is no greater love than Ana's approval. 

But this moment isn't approval. Ana said I got lucky. I shouldn't be eating crap like that if I want to keep going. And I've learnt my lesson. 

I got my fist, I got my plan, I got survivalism. I know how to do this. I know I can do this. I've got my guardian angel know. I got this. 

prying open my third eye.

A child's rhyme stuck in my head, it said that life is but a dream. I've spent so many years in question to find I've known this all along. 

What if everything that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. Old friend that I've known so long, have I been calling you the wrong name? But a rose by any other name would smell as sweet and you filled my bitter emptiness with your tar-like sludge. You filled me to the brim and flowed over into the world I share with everyone else. Even now I dare not whisper your dark name, your real name, the one you hid from me for so long. You are not my Ana, nor are you Mia, but you have masqueraded as both. 

But now I know you. Now I can smell your festering scent, I see the hideous wounds you have inflicted on the lives of others, I see that you dwell inside me, and have done for years now. Fiend, I do not expect you to leave me now, but to stay with me to whatever end. 

The past few years of my life stretch in my mind, a brilliant whiteness, filled with nothingness, no meaning, no content, no hope. Nothing but you. I don't love you. Certainly not the same way that I have love for Ana. But I accept you. 

Sitting in a familiar classroom, surrounded by familiar faces that I have no attachment to, a new sensation grips me. Reunions, filled with celebrations, filled with food, filled with calories. I had no company that day, all those people were nothing to me. I can't feel joy, not when I know there is food involved. 

Back in the same flat, with the same friend, the same habits threaten to slip back into place, so comfortably. Today, it was somehow different. Each time I eat now, an unquiet fills my body, an agitation shakes my bones. It's now all for show. That new sensation grips me again. It's a voice in my ear. It's a face in my head. It's filling my soul, it swirls around in the air I breathe. 

Fat, ugly, unworthy, you fucking stupid bitch. Fat and ugly. You stupid ugly pig. You're so fat that no man could ever find you attractive. You fat and ugly pig. 

Those same haunting words, yet the voice is different this time. It does not sound the same. It is just as callous, yet softer, and offering hope. 

You fat, ugly pig. Come here and let me embrace you. You don't need those who hate you, I am here to love you. I will love you for the rest of time, all you have to do is do what I ask of you. All you have to do is follow one simple rule. 
Don't eat. It's really not that hard. Don't eat and you will never be alone. Don't eat and you will always be loved. Don't eat and you will always be part of a family. Don't eat and you will be beautiful. Don't eat and you will be worthy. I will tuck you into bed each night. I will be there when you wake. I will make you all that you have ever wanted to be. 

Dear Ana. Hello. It's nice to meet you at last. I've been waiting for you for so long. Now that I've heard your voice, and tasted your bittersweet promises, I will never let you go. 

Each day is filled with a new kind of torment, one that never really existed before now. I have made the conscious decision not to eat for a long time now. This is the first time I've been unable to eat. I cannot binge. I hate the idea of food. There is no joy in eating. There is no pleasure in being full. I am afraid now, afraid that people will make me eat. 

Now it is not a choice. Now it is a need. 

professional opinions of suspicion

Thank you to all you lovely ladies who commented on my last few posts. I really can't emphasize enough how much it means to me and how much less alone I feel for it. 

And I'm glad you liked the tattoo thinspo. I adore tattoos, I hope to get another one sometime soon...like the next few weeks, on my back probably, haven't really decided on the design, but I am playing with the idea of getting vertebrae. 

Here is the story of what happened last night...

...I sit at the table, 100% of my concentration fixated on my etiquette. This is the next fork to use, elbows off the table, smile, nod, reply to conversation. Any effort to keep my mind off the fact that I have sat down to a 6 course degustation. Thank god the courses are tiny. If I only think about one course at a time, then I can feel like I'm only eating that small portion and I will get through this meal in one piece. 

And for the most part, I did get through that meal okay. I was so fit to burst afterwards that I felt like throwing up. We walked to a gelato shop, where I toyed with my gelato. Pity I was having dinner with an old friend who is also a psychologist. She didn't notice anything during dinner, but I could not hide my gelato OCD from her. 

I have this way of fiddling with dessert, I have to smooth out the gelato as much as I can, trying to make a perfect sphere. This takes up so much time that I can barely eat any of it before it melts. She was talking as I was sculpting my gelato and I didn't notice her looking. 

"You're playing with your food. That's what anorexics do."

I try to explain it away as OCD. She nods a bit. 

"But you're barely eating it at all. That's what anorexics do." 

And the conversation goes on like that. I can tell she's suspicious. And that's really not good. The last thing I need is to have a qualified clinical psychologist on my case. With that, I was suddenly glad she was moving to another country at the start of next year. She's section my ass without a second thought if she knew. 

Hearing her talk about her plans for the future makes me realise that I do not have any of my own. I'm just planning to train, work, get skinny. That is all. All my plans for the future revolve around restricting and losing weight and doing ophthalmology. There are no friends in my future. I want to live alone so that I can starve without people noticing. And then I just want to be thin. And alone. And thinner. And I guess that's when I'm going to kill myself. 

thinspiration: tattoo

Quite a few of you have said that you like tattooed thinspo. I've been thinking of posting a purely thinspo post for a while now, so here are some beautiful tattooed girls to keep us all movtivated! 

didn't want a day without you but somehow I've lived through another one

And the heart she feared frozen still beats and marches on. 

Each night I sit and listen to the old brag of my heart. I am. I am. I am. The dullness echoes through me and once again it is the only thing to fill me. How can I feel so empty when I am chock full of food. It seems ironic. The more I eat, the more empty I feel. The more I starve, the more full I get. 

Like a tsunami tide that chills to the very core of me, it bursts forth from the pits of my stomach and sweeps through to my extremities and it makes me hyperextend everything. Then it becomes so cold that it all starts to burn and I coil into a ball. Coil into a ball and savour the warmth. 

Pain and nuture mixing together, mingling into a cacophony of sensation, a weird LSD trip of a soundtrack to the flood of images flickering behind my eyes. Ribs showing, hip bones sticking out, a waist small enough to wrap my hands around, a gap between the thighs, slender gazelle legs, collarbones as sharp as razor blades and concavities everywhere. 

I don't want the touch or love of another person. I don't want the success of a medical career. I don't want anything anymore. Just thinness. That's all I want. Surely it's not too much to ask for. 

I hate myself for wanting food. I hate myself when I feel faint. I just want to lock myself in a room with a set of scales and a computer and be by myself to get thin. Wallow in my own bell jar. 

Then I think of the professor. And the warmth that I find in his embrace. The safety I find in his voice. The joy I find in his company. Is it enough? 

No. Love is not enough. 

the hunger games

If I can change I hope I never know. 

I’m a liar and a cheat. And worse, I’m lying and cheating myself. What sort of horrible person am I? I can’t even be honest to myself. This weight loss thing. I don’t think I’m even really trying. My weight goes up, it comes down, but I’m never below 55kg. I’m sick of it. I must be 50kg at the most before I leave for the UK. Surely that’s easier said than done. 

I think that when I get back to Hamilton I’m not going to eat. I’m going to buy myself tea and coffee and V and not any food at all. I don’t need to eat. I can’t eat, not if I’m going to lose any weight. Hopefully if I don’t eat anything on weekdays for a month and control myself on weekends then I will drop some weight, hopefully 5kg in a month. It should be plausible. It really should be very plausible. I’ve got to maintain a 1500cal deficit each day. That’s more than my BMR. So if I don’t eat and lose 300cal at the gym each day, I should be able to manage it. In a month. I must keep this up for a month. I must. When I’m at 50kg, then I can re-evaluate my weight loss methods. 

I’m sick and tired of being this horrendously fat weight. I want to be a skinny weight. It's time to be honest and just front up to myself. If I don't eat, I'll lose weight. It's just that simple. 

There is no "eat this healthy thing, you'll be okay". There is no "I can pig out today because I fasted yesterday". No more games. I will just stop eating. And yes, it is that simple. 

babe, I'm going down!

...because there is no such thing as too thin. 

Ah, after all this time, there is still no feeling that can compare to stepping on the scale and seeing a lower number than yesterday. There is no thrill, no rush, no high that can come close to seeing the number on the scales get smaller and smaller. And my skinny babes, I'm on my way down. 

In the space of this week, I've gone down from 57kg to 54kg. It's not good enough, but, it's a start. I've started restricting again. Restricting old school style, who cares about eating a million little meals of few calories, I'm not eating at all. And it's damn well working. I'm homestaying right now for a few weeks and the way my schedule works is that I can skip breakfast and lunch. I go out and walk for an hour at lunchtime instead of eating. And I have dinner, but the portions here are pretty small and pretty damn healthy as all the food comes from the garden in the back yard. 

I'm drunk on tea and chewing gum. I'm relieved to be finally going down again. I'm relieved at how easy it is. 54kg. I wanted to be 50kg by the time I left for England. If I can keep this pace up, I will be less than that. Jumping up and down in the bathroom, I'm elated. 

There is a lightness that comes with this. A mental, emotional lightness. I'm on my way home - that's what this feels like. I'm on my way to the thinness that I call home, a weight at which I will feel safe and happy. 

I rest my head on his chest and he wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly. "It's abnormal, say it." And I whisper these words with closed eyes. He sighs quietly and rests his chin on my head. "You're looking healthier, not healthy yet, but healthier." He can't hide his happiness at seeing my weight gain. I feel like crying. I love seeing him happy, and I know he will be upset when I lose weight again. But for now I cling to him. Sometimes it feels like he's all I've got in this world. 

There is a restlessness that is filling every cell of my body. I've started doing things that in hindsight are all steps in hiding weight loss to others, but highlighting it to myself. I'm buying large sweaters which hide my body, but I'm also buying skin tight dresses that at too small for me. I can't wait to fit them. 

I can tell my abdomen is flatter. I can tell. But not enough, I can still grab handfuls of fat. But I'm on my way babes. And you are all coming with me. 

you and me. we're in this together now. none of them can stop us now.

...we will make it through somehow. 

Before I launch into this post I want to start off by tying up a few ends. 

Firstly, I want to say hello to any new followers! I looked today and suddenly realised that I have 91 followers now. I'm stunned. Hello, thank you so much for following my blog, please leave a comment and I will follow your blog right back. 

Secondly, I want to say a big thank you to everybody. I really do. I must admit that Andrea's comments threw me wildly. I went to a really low place for a while after reading them. I felt so useless. Reading what she said, well, I'm already miserable, and I know that what I am doing is bad, but if getting a boyfriend and perking up would be enough to snap me out of this, then why wasn't I good enough to do just that? I felt like such a worthless, useless, incompetent mess that I would be better off not existing. I have never known such strong suicidal urges. 

I can't say I'm over it, I can't say I'm not still suicidal. I've been cutting more and more and I can feel the old grip of depression creeping in. But. I've also made myself a plan to lose weight. For now, if I can get a grip on my weight, then I can start to get a grip on other things. For now, I need to focus on one small thing at a time to drag myself through thiss. 

Thirdly, I want to say sorry for my absence. For a while there I really did think I was going to end my life and I didn't want to come here and be talked out of it by anyone. I didn't want to post any sort of message that some people might think to be attention seeking. When I end my life, it will be my choice, and there will be no apologies to anyone. 

At any rate, I return to you all with renewed vigor and determination. Just like the way I've titled this post. This is you and me. We're in this together now. None of them can stop us now. We will make it through somehow. We're fighting a battle that no one can see. That doesn't make it any less real. We are all doing it together. Though we are apart physically, we are all striving for the same thing, we live and breath for the same thing. We are linked together by a common thread that separates us from the rest of the world. And I know for sure that I cannot do this without the knowledge that you are all out there, sending me love, wishing me the best. And I do the same for you all, every second of every day. 

In a strange way, this blog has prolonged my life significantly. This knowledge makes me want to wake up in the morning and give it all another go. And I can't thank you all enough for that. I hope that you all can appreciate that. 

I think this is all I can say for now. I am still struggling with the cutting, and the can of worms that comes with that. I am still somewhat scared and wary of posting anything on this blog because I don't want to read comments like that again. I'm scared by how they affected me and I'm scared of how I may react in the future. When you can no longer trust your one outlet of self expression, everything gets thrown up in the air. 

So I bid you goodbye from this post, with the promise that I will post again, and that like you, each fibre of my being longs to be thin and fears food and the consequences of eating.