Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Day 2: I want to fuck you like an animal.

"You let me penetrate you. You let me complicate you."

So here is the start of day 2 and I've decided that a neat way to keep track of dinner calories is just to have a bag of noodles. Let them sit in water for extra long so that they puff up and take up more room. Makes me feel like I'm eating heaps. Still too much, but I feel like I'm making progress just by getting into the right frame of mind for losing weight. And doesn't that come easily. 

They say you never forget how to ride a bike. Well, I never knew how to, but I sure as hell know how to restrict. I've been thinking, and going on a fluid diet shouldn't be that difficult. I can tell my parents that I ate dinner at work so that I could work out as soon as I get home. I could tell my colleagues that I eat dinner and a big breakfast so I don't want to have lunch. I could just drink bottle upon bottle of coke zero and cup after cup of coffee. 

Really, when I think about, it's not that hard. Frightening, how quickly it all comes back. The planning, the desire the execution. Frightening. How the fear comes back. Anything with a calorie count in the triple digits feels like far too much. It scares me because it is such a big number. In the hundreds! It seems ludicrous to eat that much! But I've been eating in the thousands and that fact makes me feel slightly giddy. 

And then there's Mark. "I've come to see your patient." And I smile at him as he approaches me and he smiles right back. I'm literally on my knees in front of him (because there are no chairs left and my back hurts too much for me to bend over and write) and in a really perverted way it feels kind of right. 

Mark is probably the least "dirty" looking guy that I've ever had a crush on, and for some reason, he's the one who makes me think the most dirty thoughts. There is something about the way he smiles, and the way he looks, and the way he talks that just does SOMETHING to me. He's older, although I have no idea by how much. And someone once told me that besides being incredibly intelligent, he is also a rocker at heart. When he was younger, he had long hair and dressed all in black. There is something about that that just drives me mad. 

It's like I think somewhere inside the neat and calm facade is that rocker, lying in wait and that would make him a great fuck. Don't get me wrong, I really do like him as a person too. He's amazing, amazing and I would dearly love to date him. But it really is the sexual magnetism that hits me first. I want to jump on him. Or I want him to jump on me. Or for us to jump on each other and collide and smash into a thousand little shards. 

I've never had sex, I have no idea what it might feel like, but damn, he sure makes me want to find out. 

Monday, January 28, 2013

Day 1: my Mark.


Day 1: I've decided that I need to try to make more of an effort with this. Today is day 1 of my new plan to get skinny. It's partially motivated by a post I saw on Facebook from a girl who I once knew in high school. It said that she had lost 4kg and her thighs were no longer touching. Now I've always thought of her as a particularly thin girl and to think that she's making such an effort makes me feel ill. 

Part of the reason behind me not posting here much is that I've largely fallen off the wagon. Not only that, while I was off, I enjoyed being off. This is probably the closest I've ever been to not having an ED and I have loved it. It's been extremely liberating to just grab whatever and eat it and enjoy eating and not to count calories or think about consequences of gaining weight. 

So I've gained weight. That's what happens when you restrict and restrict and just give up and eat everything you want to. Faaaaaaaaah, none of my clothes fit any more and this is a big problem when said clothing includes Marc Jacobs and Miu Miu and Lanvin and Aubin and Wills and more. Several thousand pounds of clothing. That I can't fit. This is just intolerable. 

Anyway, my new effort includes working out and dieting, there is no other secret really. I know I'm eating too much. So I must stop. I'm tempted to just stop eating altogether although that would still cause a lot of trouble at work. At any rate, less food is the answer and working out is also the answer. I figure there must be a way of finding half an hour in my day to work out. 

But before I end this post all about weight loss and ED, I want to tell you all about Mark. He is one of the best men in the entire world as far as I'm concerned. He is the infectious diseases specialist and stays late to look after my patients and sends me home. He's one of the most intelligent people that I know and is always so nice to me when I call him for advice. He never thinks of me as stupid and always writes down the name of the patient I tell him about so that he can go and look them up later. 

Mark is also reasonably dishy. In a way that not many people would agree with me. Apparently I really do have a type. A type that means that most females aren't going to fight me for these guys. Although Mark is great, so great. Makes me feel looked after in an odd way. I don't know why, but I want to lose weight for him. Is that odd? It must be reasonably common. I mean, we're not dating, we don't even have that much of a professional relationship. We're borderline colleagues. And I want to lose weight for him?

In my head, I imagine the two of us sitting together. He'll put his arms around me and I will rest my head on his shoulder. And for some reason, that particular fantasy needs me to be stick thin. I need to be stick thin for him. None of it makes any sense to me but that is really how I feel. 

Sunday, January 20, 2013

sugar daddy might not be the status quo...but I don't know what is anymore.

"Kept inside our idol race, ghosts of an idol's false embrace. Rest your head now, don't you cry. Don't ever ask the reason why."

I had wondered why people stared, I wondered why people thought it was weird. I have spent much time trying to explain that the professor is not my sugar daddy after discovering, to my horror, what that phrase actually means. It may sound stupid, but I have never really bothered finding out exactly what it meant. To my logic, it should mean an older man who is rather sweet. Makes me feel like I have twisted logic. I was stunned to find out how many people actually held that belief. The problem with trying to eradicate this belief is that I haven't a reasonable substitute to replace it with. 

Rumours can only be replaced with other rumours. And if I'm not fucking the professor to get ahead in my career then what the hell am I doing? I have no idea what I'm doing. 

Went to that bbq last week, and it confused the hell out of me. I thought he was inviting me to introduce me to important people, but that wasn't it at all. The only way that I can explain is that I felt like I was their child, forced to be presentable while they entertained their friends. I enjoyed myself, felt incredibly poorly read and juvenile but also felt young for the first time in years. Mostly because I was the youngest one there by at least 15 years.

I also realised that I eat incredibly slowly. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just the way I tend to cut things up. I don't know if cutting things up is part of this ED, or if it is more part of my OCD, but I tend to cut things into small squares before eating them and this isn't always easy to do. It can be really quite embarrassing when everyone else is finished and I'm concentrating hard on cutting things into little squares of food. 

Nice to learn something about myself I guess. 

He still monitors what I eat. Which I find incredibly odd considering how fat I am right now, and how I haven't lost any weight for a long time now. Surely he must not be worried anymore. But again, he noticed what I had on my plate, and how much I had left over. I tried to talk it down, and to a large extent it worked. I wonder if there will ever come a time when people will decide that my weight is stable enough to say that I no longer have an ED. 

It's a vicious cycle. When my weight is stable and I'm good from an ED point of view, my suicidality shoots sky high and all I want to do is to run out and get hit by a train. But when my weight is going down and the ED voices are screaming loud, I'm happier than ever. I wish I could just somehow accept this weight, because it tends to be my "usual" weight and just be happy with it. In fact, I wish I could just be happy with having a stable weight. 

I guess I still have some sort of an ED, even though I'm not losing weight. 

For the past month or so there has been a gradual but certain change in our relationship. I'm fighting my basic instinct to treat him as a boss and be super respectful and formal and professional, and my other basic instinct which is to do what he wants me to do because he is my boss. 

Up till this point, I thought we had a very normal, professional relationship. Yes, I knew he favoured me, but I didn't think we did anything that was out of the societal norm. It was only when I arrived early at the bbq, having come straight from work, let myself past their gate and into their house and walked into his friend, who almost leapt out of his skin at the sight of me when I realised that this wasn't quite normal. 

I know it's not normal, but I don't know what is going on. It's weird, yet natural. I don't know. Hopefully it defines itself in good time. 

As unbiased people, my lovely readers, please leave any thoughts you have on what is going on with the professor. After all, you read what the other people in my life hear about the professor, and I'm really curious to know what you think. I get the feeling people are rather reluctant to tell me what they really think, but you all will be honest with me, please tell me what you think. 

Sunday, January 13, 2013

and what does daddy say?

"I think I thought I saw you try. But that was just a dream."

Firstly, thanks for your responses to my last post. Sammy, blogger hates our love and will not display your comments. It was interesting to find out what areas bother you most. And that we all hate our tummies and thighs. 

Since that post I've spent a week freaking out about going to see the professor for a barbecue and then actually going and feeling extremely young and uneducated. I'm not sure how well I remembered that night, I had just come off long day, post-take rounds and having worked 12 days in a row I was in quite a state. 

In true me-style, I had panicked as soon as he invited me to this bbq with several other consultants and my boss in Bristol, who is over here visiting. It didn't feel right at all. I was the youngest person there by 20 years and I just kind of sat in the corner with not much to say. I was too tired to be witty or charming. But it was still a nice night. 

So the long and short of it is that I had no idea what I was doing there. It was an honour to be invited, but it was odd. I know for sure the others were surprised to see me there. I felt like I was their child, just there to be polite and presentable. It must be some kind of record, no person as junior as me has ever been invited to anything like that. I felt awkward, out of place and juvenile, but in an odd way, I was totally the cat that got the cream. 

Apart from that, the night was odd in another way. I had a weird feeling that out of the 4 women there, at least 3 of us had had some sort of eating disorder at some point in time. The other women were deadly thin, boney and gorgeous in that way. And he watched what I ate. Didn't embarrass me per se, but mentioned that I hadn't taken much food. 

Another thing that I've only just found out, is that my entire class at medical school seem to think that the professor is my sugar daddy. I don't know what a sugar daddy is, but I do think of him as a father so I guess that's close enough. Josh thinks that the professor is my sugar daddy. Which I find sweet. But I don't know why. 

I still have a huge crush on Josh. He's such a nice guy. Unless I'm barking up the complete wrong tree or am completely stupid, if I tried a bit harder, I could probably get him. He sits close to me, always makes physical contact when he sees me. But as usual, I will just wait for it to pass me by. 

I guess besides this, I don't have much to say tonight. I feel some sort of change in me. And as of yet, I don't know what it is. I will update accordingly, when I figure out what is changing. But I can feel that something is going to happen. 

Sunday, January 6, 2013

the inverse of everything

"It's hard to hold a candle in the cold November rain."

Everything in my life is turning out to be the inverse. It seems so unreasonable but there is no point in moping about it. If you're unhappy about something, then do something to make it different. 

I wish I didn't have this fucking ED. My life would be half a miserable if it was gone. It's so distracting and demands attention, though I don't want to give it any. Still, persistently, it floats up behind every moment of every day and I can't help but notice. As soon as I get home, I'm in front of my mirror, trying on clothes that are too small, tugging and pull at myself, looking at how fat I am. After a busy and stressful day at work, this is hardly ideal. 

I just don't understand it. I don't understand why my ED should rear its head now. The busier I get at work, the louder it seems to get. I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, work would help me to forget about it, and that the longer I forgot about it, the more it would just melt away. I just can't get the balance right in my head. I'm busy at work. So I somehow need to regularly eat otherwise by mid-afternoon, everything in my body just halts and I'm incapable of continuing. 

I don't feel like I'm eating too much, but I'm obviously doing something wrong because I'm very slowly, but surely gaining weight. I need to cut back somehow...maybe my dinners. Maybe I can have smaller dinners at home. And also start to work out. I have to be honest, I'm already at the point of physical exhaustion after work, the thought of working out as well makes me want to cry. But if something has to be done, then it has to be done. 

Another problem is the professor. The happier he gets, the more miserable I get. Over the years I've somehow associated him being happy with me with gaining weight. Now that he's super pleased with me, I know that must mean I'm fat. Fat and fat and fat. The more he tells me that I look "well", the more upset I get. I don't want to hear it anymore. It's not quite the compliment he thinks it is. 

I have a question for you girls, what is your most hated body part? I've always hated my stomach and thighs, and relatively speaking, I've not had much of a problem with my bum. But today, I met a girl who hated her bum and also talked about her arm fat. I've never really thought about my arms before, but it's like inception, now I can't stop thinking about them. Now that I'm thinking about my arms and legs and stomach and bum, I just feel like I'm bulging at the seams! 

Yuck. Yuck. 

Thursday, January 3, 2013

a game of waiting

"Therefore send not to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

It's an odd feeling, that moment when you know with certainty that hope is gone and we are left searching for something, anything to cling to. Comfort? Although we are taught of its importance, in this moment it seems so inadequate a goal compared with life. As humans, I think we all naturally hold onto hope. We hope against hope. We hold onto it till whatever end. We hold onto hope against science and judgement and logic and reason. But even with this nature, there come moments when hope is lost. 

And when hope is lost, I can't help but feel small. I spend a lot of my life feeling like I can make a difference. In a twisted way, I feel that I am the anomaly, special, but not necessarily in a good way, but in a way that will ultimately be to my advantage. 

So what if I'm eating disordered. So what if I'm not smart. So what if I'm a lazy ass who listens to old school rock and drinks old school drinks. So what if I cry at children's movies and am horrendously simple. So what. In an odd way, it's endearing to the professor, and in my head, one day he will pick me up, lift me up and then I will be riding a spiral of success to the top where I shall perch, clad in Chanel and Proenza Schouler and Burberry Prorsum and Carven, loved, lusted after, feared and admired. And remembered when I'm gone. 

If I am honest, that is how I've always believed life will be. But then, in these moments when hope is gone, I feel small, insignificant, a tiny, undetectable blip in space and time. 

This is not the first time I've known that a patient was dying. Indeed, I've probably seen more than my fair share of deaths in my short training. But when she is mine, my patient, it feels so different. I wish with all my heart that I could somehow crawl into her body, beat out the infection and make everything okay. 

But I can't. And everything will not be okay. Soon a son will lose a mother, a brother will lose a sister, a father will lose a daughter. For them, nothing will be okay. And I will lose a name off my morning list. 

For many, death will be an angel of mercy for the husk of a woman attached to a respirator and that is something that is very easy to say (it's something that I would've said) for someone who doesn't who have to face those eyes filled with fear each day. 

It's hard. I'm so over this job. I wish I could somehow get over it, get over the stress and the heartbreak and the fear and the exhaustion. But for now, I can only take it one hour at a time. 

Logic in me says I should go talk to the professor about this, at the next possible opportunity. Ask to see him by himself, have a little cry on his shoulder, listen to one of his stories that always makes me feel better, and then eventually recover. If the past is any predictor of the future, chances are, the exact same thing would have happened to him and he will tell me of how he got past it. 

Logic. But the devil in my head says no. I can't see him. Not when I'm this fat. A twisted part of me needs to hear him tell me that I'm skinny. So I shall suffer and cry in silence in the dark of the night. I shall mourn her on my own. But she's not dead yet. I'm just bracing myself for impact. 

In its own special way, once again, my ED has creeped into an area of life that I had thought was untainted by it. I wish it would leave me to have this moment to myself. One moment away from feeling fat, one moment away from calories and restricting. Not even the grim reaper can keep it away.