the german boys.

"So we're back here again, tip-toeing around the edge of the end."

Back at home, lying in bed, using internet and jetlagged as all hell. I'm too scared to even weight myself because I know that I am still fat. I have gained weight. Thanks to stupid and amazingly hot German bloke I lived with. But now I am home, away from that dratted recovery house and things will be back on my terms thank you very much. 

It feels strange to be at home, it feels as though I never left. This trip hasn't changed me at all. I feel the same about myself. It is so easy to pick up the strands that I dropped 2 months ago. 

I need to go back to the professor at some point in time. And I can already feel the anxiety rising in my chest just thinking about it. The old illness rising, the old emotions awakening.

Work looms. I am looking forward to it simply because of the weight loss potential there. No matter what happens in my life, weight loss is still the only thing that I crave. 

My weight is really holding me back. And I realised this while I was in the UK. The first German guy I lived with, Chris, was the one to start force feeding me. Even though I hated him for this, I absolutely adored him. He was cute, he was extremely nice and we ran on the same wavelengths. We used to go on long walks together, go explore the city together and he always had an umbrella to hold over me when it started raining. He would kill spiders for me even though I knew he was terrified of them too. I missed him so much when he left.

I'm terrible at reading what a guy thinks of me, but by the end of our 5 weeks together, I knew he liked me, and I knew by the end of the 3rd week that if I wanted him, I could have got him. But I couldn't try. I couldn't bear the thought of him touching me even though I wanted nothing more, and feeling all the fat on my body. I started to push him away in the last week. I wouldn't go to any of his dinner invitations, wouldn't go out clubbing with him. He was really upset with me in the end. 

He still messages me on facebook. And I feel terrible each time I hear from him. 

Andreas, the second guy, was very different, although he was the one who fed me the most. He made me feel even worse about myself. Andy is one of the best looking guys I've ever seen in my life and I hated being in the same room as him. I felt I was far too fat and ugly for him to even look at me and that is something that I just couldn't get past. 

I remember the first time I saw him. I'm sure he could see the physical response I had to first seeing him. I stopped what I was doing, my eyes bulged, my jaw dropped and I became extremely flushed. He is just so good looking. Deadly charismatic, but not charming in the way that Chris was. Maybe I say that because Chris was trying to get to me, and Andy wasn't. 

I wonder how things would have turned out if I had been thin. Would I have gone out with Chris? Would I have talked to Andy more? 

But does that matter, because I am fat and I didn't do any of those things. 

do you know this house is falling apart

"We've got no money but we've got hearts."

All my hard earned progress, each pound fought for, all in vain. Stupid, stupid doctors. Stupid doctors. 

For the past 3 weeks my house here in England has turned into a recovery unit. A recovery unit with one patient. Me. It sucks. I'm back to where I started. Right back to where I started. All that exercise and restricting, for nothing. It's all back on. This is what happens when you live with doctors. 

You can't hide anything. You can't run away. They don't listen to any of my excuses, we all know we've heard them before from those conniving anorexics in our inpatient psychiatric units. 

I don't know what to do. They are strangers to me. Poor students, poor students with no money. Poor medical students who are forcing me to eat. I have absolutely no food in the house. It's one of my ways of restricting. If there is no food, I can't eat. And I'm generally too lazy to go out and buy food when I'm starving. 

But that's no barrier, they give me their food. Well, he does anyway. He cooks for me, caesar salad with chicken, pasta with prawn and whiskey and cream sauce, baked potato with tuna. Out of his own pocket he is buying each pound I put on. And I can't say no. When someone that good looking cooks a meal that smells so good it makes me salivate as I sit, defeated at the kitchen table, and puts it down in front of me as he sits opposite, eating his own portion and watching me eat. 

There are no weigh ins at this house, thankfully. But they can see the weight going on. I can see the weight going on. He might only see me for dinner, but he makes damn sure there are enough calories in it for me to put on weight.

After dinner, he breaks out the chocolate, or ice cream, or both. It doesn't matter when I come home. He's there, waiting, with dinner and dessert. 

Part of me hates him to the very core. Part of me is torn because he is after all one of the best looking guys I have ever seen and I want to make him happy. What the fuck is happening to me. 

But there is still one fact that I can hold onto. 2 and a half more weeks of this and I'll be gone, away from him, half a world away from him. And then, just you watch. 

sugars, I'm going down!

Skinny...all the voices screaming....skinny. 

Well, I've been back here for all of one day and I'm already extremely glad that I'm back. I have so missed the support and the communication and being able to let my ED voice scream as much as it wants to. 

Wanted to let you all know that I am now 51.5kg. Going down! Going in the right direction! Faster than I had ever hoped for! 51.5kg!!!!!! I'm only 1.5kg away from 50kg which is a weight I've never been at before. In fact, what I weigh now is the lowest I've ever been. I have never been this low before and babes, I'm so not stopping here.

I couldn't sleep last night. Part of it was because of the 2 day hangover I have inflicted upon myself after drinking my own body weight in whiskey in Scotland over the weekend. The other part of it was because I was up for hours, feeling my bones. I have never been able to feel so many ribs. And even though none of my bones really stick out, I know they are closer to sticking out. 

One step closer! I'm going to keep this up, this is too good to let go. I haven't felt so happy for such a long time. Nothing, NOTHING compares to the joy of losing another pound, another kilo. 

I'm still not convinced I see much of a difference. But I have no full length mirror. Oh, and another thing. The bottom of my thighs no longer touch each other. It's not a massive step, because what really counts is when the top of your thighs don't touch. But for me, this is a sign that things are going well. The bottom of my thighs don't touch, even when my knees are touching. I'm loving this. 

For the first time in a long time I believe that I will get there one day. And now I see that when I start work at the end of this year, the weight loss will just continue. 

I love you all so much! And hold onto it, just hold on. Because even though things might seem terrible, joy will come with the promise of another pound off. I was once so down in the dumps, but now that I'm losing weight again, I'm so happy. I'm not even trying to hide it. I want people to see that I've lost weight. 

If nobody notices my weight loss when I get home, I will be seriously disappointed. But I have another 4 weeks to make it more obvious. And I will.