reverse thinspiration that looks like me

"Because I'm breaking the habit tonight."

- I don't know how I started looking at lots of reverse thinspo today. But I aside from the usual extreme reverse thinspo pics, I came across a whole series of pictures that reminds me of how my body looks and it makes me feel like dying. I feel so fucking sick. I already ate some noodles for dinner and man I really want to puke it all back. I'm texting online dating guy and fuck it, it makes me want to puke. Today my intake has been:

-2 coffees with trim milk 124cal

-1 cup of instant noodles 460cal

-1 pear 38cal

-1 cup of strawberries 49cal

-half a low fat yoghurt 42cal

That is 713cal total intake. It feels like too much. It's like I've got a gastric band and the food isn't going down. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It's too much. 

Later I am going to the gym to work it off:

-30mins running on treadmill at level 10 -286cal

-20mins elliptical -171cal

-triceps pull down and biceps curl and some squats and lunges

Net intake 256cal. 

graduation perfection

"We barely remember what came before this precious moment, choosing to be here right now, hold on, stay inside..."

I've been traveling on this road for so long and now in a few short hours it will officially come to an end. I will graduate. 6 years for a bachelor degree seems far too long and I seem far too emotional for a ceremony that I didn't even want to go to. 

After the weekend from hell and shedding my first tears at work, I've been feeling too traumatised to be on the wards. But still somehow I've been dragging myself out of bed each morning to go to work. And now I get to graduate. 

I have the dress, I have the shoes, I have the MASSIVE black pearl pendant necklace, I have the eyelashes and the lipstick. And somehow, it feels worth it. Somehow, I am reminded of everything I have gone through. All the mistakes, all the literal blood, sweat and tears that I have shed and all the coffee and red bull that I have flooded my body with in order to get by. 

Somedays it's been shit. Absolute shit. And I spend my time fantasizing about perfection. Lounging around in bed with blankets, dressed in flannel pjs with a good book and a cup of coffee. And walking around in Jimmy Choo shoes, hanging with friends in Michael Kors and Rag and Bone and Alannah Hill and going out in a Temperley gown. Drowning in a world of designer gowns and shoes. On those days I feel like quitting my job and going into a world of fashion. 

Other days it's great. And I feel like a doctor, and that I do make a difference, and that I do help people. Sometimes, 6 years and hanging out at the doors of hell is worth it. 

I have been getting thinner. I don't know what I weigh, but clothes are looser. People are noticing. I've developed a habit where I can't finish a plate. I can't leave an empty plate anymore. I know my team watches me eat, my registrars look at each other when they see me pick at my food but I don't give a shit anymore. I look right back like, what. You got a problem with that? And then they don't say anything. 

Sometimes, everything just fades away. Joe and his fiancee, the professor and that failed paper, the fucking malicious nurses at work. It all just fades away. When I pull and pinch myself in the mirror and see that I'm thinner. That's all there is. I'm loving noticing the change. It just makes me want to step it up, to see a bigger change. 

ana driven thoughts

midnight in the city, bleary eyed and clouded mind. the fat on my body, I can feel it expanding. I know that I am getting fatter. I can feel the real me, buried under layer after layer after layer of disgusting, putrid fat. I hate it. I hate feeling it. I hate how I can pinch a layer of fat between my fingers. I hate how I can't see my bones. 


it is the witching hour and I can't sleep. My fat is keeping me awake. it's all I can think about. 


my mind is so awake. but my body is crying out for some form of rest. there is so much for me to think about, how can I possibly rest? 


binge. binge. binge. binge. that has been the theme of this week. I think my boobs are bigger. they are already DD. yes, that is how fat I am. fucking fat. some part of me says "I just need to be fat for a while." but I hate the fat. I don't feel cuter, cuddlier or healthier. I feel disgusting. 


I spend hours of each day watching diet and anorexia shows on youtube. and I can feel my grip on reality slipping more. I think that those girls in the anorexia documentaries, the ones in the inpatient centres, the ones with BMIs of 15 and 16, I think they are fat. they look fat to me. not all the bones are visible. and this makes me realise that I am fatter than ever. and it disgusts me. 


I would love to look like one of them. and when I do, I shall plan to lose more. more and more and more. I want to lose more weight. I am desperate. there is so much fat. 


purging. the magic word. I would give anything for the ability to purge. then I would spend the rest of my life locked inside, binging and purging and binging and purging. I would never keep anything down. 


midnight in the city. it's quiet. it's dark. it's cold. and all I can think about are laxatives. right now, I would kill for a packet of laxatives. I knew I did the whole laxie thing a while back and forced myself to stop. but now I want nothing more. 


there is nothing more upsetting in this world than gaining weight. 


winter is coming. it's getting colder. long sleeves are coming. finally I can cut my arms again. 


there is nothing more pure than the feeling of being empty. there is nothing that makes me feel more accomplished than restricting and fasting. there is nothing more triumphant than being the thinnest of all your friends. there is nothing more beautiful than a gap between the thighs. there is nothing uglier than fat, fat, fat everywhere. 


there is nothing in this world that I want more than to be thin and boney. there is nothing I need more in this world than Ana. 

there is a hole in my heart so I threw away my plate

There is a hole in my heart, so I threw away my plate. Because nothing filled me up, no matter what I ate. 

It's a mantra that I wish I could adopt more easily. I recently heard someone say that starving is easy but eating is difficult because the more they eat, the hungrier they get. It's a statement that seems to sum up my life to a T right now. If I don't get, I can easily go on not eating. But once I start eating, some strange force just takes hold of me and mechanically and unemotionally I will continue shoveling food into my mouth until there is no more food left. 

I can really only describe it as akin to telekinesis or hypnosis. I can honestly say that while I am binging I am not fully away of what I am doing. But my limbs move, automatic. Like an intense state of concentration, it is all consuming. Literally. 

That is how I find myself on the treadmill at the gym. By the time I've burned 50calories, I'm already feeling numb and giddy. But 50calories doesn't even cover half the chocolate eclair I ate. One of several chocolate eclairs. On top of many other things that I've eaten today. In my head I am screaming at the gym equipment. Why won't the calorie count go up faster? Surely I've burned off more calories than that by now? An hour at the gym and 400cal burned, not even half of what I had for lunch. Don't get me started on how much I had at dinner. 

But the bliss of not eating, how I love the feeling of absolute power. How I long for it. But alas, it seems that I am not to experience it for a long time...

...yesterday morning was the weekly X-ray meeting. It's about an hour long and all the surgical teams are there, looking through the x-rays and CTs and ultrasound scans of the more difficult diagnostic challenges. A meeting of the minds. However, it is a small room, with not enough seats. The hierarchy is strong. The consultants sit, then the registrars, then the house officers. The few left over seats are for the trainee interns who arrive earliest. All others must stand. And I was standing. 

My flatmate and I looked on with some curiosity, listening to matters that were far too complex for us to understand, but interesting all the same. Towards the end of the meeting, I felt myself start to sway. Focussing with all my might, I spent all my energy on staying upright. I was not about to allow myself to faint in front of a room full of surgeons. 

Anyway, I managed to hold it together. Later that night my flatmate told me that she had seen me swaying and had been bracing herself for carrying me out of the room if I had collapsed. I've been collapsing so much recently. 

With the smallest exertion, I feel a rising fatigue. Like molten lead seeping into my muscles, they become heavier with each step I take. Running up and down the stairs with my surgical team is almost impossible and working out at the gym takes up all my motivation and energy. I should be able to lose at least 500cal at the gym in an hour. But I can barely manage 400cal. 

But I must go to the gym to work off at least some of my binge. But when I go, I start the next day already shattered, and so then I go to eat, and end up binging, then I have to gym, which makes me tired...the cycle of death continues. I don't really know what to do. 

spiral out, unprofessional conduct, gratitude

Things are getting worse now. The suicidal ideation is daily, hourly. I can’t stop thinking about how I want to kill myself. I have so much to finish, but even that is no longer enough. I know I will upset some people but I am sure that they will get over it with time. 

I can also see that I will soon develop a full blown eating disorder. If it’s not next year, it will definitely be the year after. And it will be anorexia with a binge/purge subtype. I know that already. I hate the feeling of having food in my stomach. It makes me feel like such a failure. I only feel accomplished when I’m hungry. My desktop background says it all: I only feel beautiful when I’m hungry. 

The laxatives aren’t enough. I don’t want to put food in my mouth and recently I’ve started losing control resulting in some epic binges. I will walk down the road and buy food from every food place and eat as much as I can. Then I will wander around work aimlessly, restlessly. A part of me is thrashing around, wanting to vomit, another part of me is desperately holding onto common sense. So I settle for laxatives. I know it doesn’t do anything about the calories but the misery of the pain and the running to the bathroom makes me feel like I’m repenting. 

But none of it is enough. When I have food in my stomach all I can think about is purging. I feel like I’m lucky. The doctor in me says that I have caught an eating disorder in the early stages. There is so much hope. Now is the time to turn back. Now is the time to catch it. Now is the time to do something about it. It would be so easy. I have people who would help me in a heartbeat and not bat an eye. I have people who would make sure that I succeed and probably not think any less of me despite all my failures. I have everything a person could need to recover. Almost. 

If I were one of my patients I know I would try to get some sort of referral, something to prevent this getting worse. I'm teetering at the edge of a cliff and I want to step out into free fall. I have all the tools for recovery, except the will. I don't want to recover. I want to spiral into my ED. I want to get smaller and smaller, I want to feel pretty for once in my life. 

Yes there are side effects. Yes I've spent many ungodly hours clinging to my toilet. Yes I've spent many sleepless nights crying and willing away the pain in my stomach. Yes I've worried people I care about. But it's just not fair. Every little girl deserves to feel pretty. Every little girl deserves to feel like a princess at some point in her life. If life won't give that to me then I will work hard to get it for myself. I will starve and purge and binge my way to what is rightfully mine, a moment when I can look at myself and think that I am pretty. 

The email was only a line long but it almost brought tears to my eyes. I love it when this happens, when a perfectly professional exchange deteriorates into something completely different. In a strange way it makes me feel so cared about. And although there are times when I can see it in his eyes, I have trouble believing what my see. For all I know my eyes could be deceiving me.  

He calls me F******. The first real nickname I've ever had. He calls me F****** so often that there are people who think my real name is F******. Some people take this as a sign that the notoriously tough professor is fond of me. I wish I could think that way. I remember that once we were in theatre and he was transplanting the inside layer of the front of the eye. To make sure that he had it the right way up, he wrote an F on it. That way, if it is the wrong way up, the F will look back to front. Why do I use the letter F? he asks and the other students in the room look around. Everyone looks at me. Finally he looks at me. It stands for F******. He smiles sweetly and the other students stare at me. I know it doesn't stand for my nickname. He's used that letter for years, long before he met me. It's still a sweet thing to say. 

I call him BB. He always jokes to other people that it means Big Bastard. It's his way of saying, hey, I've got a cute nickname. It does make other people stare at me a bit though. 

F******, I'm sure I can find time for you, BB. 

It's only a sentence long, but it still almost brought tears to my eyes. It's unprofessional conduct and it makes me feel cared for. 

Thank you to Fat Piggy for your lovely comment on my last blog post. It's absolutely wonderful to have you back with us!!!! Thank you also to Anafly, my Aussie neighbour. I'm sure we will become great friends on here! And thank you to wonderful Jackie. You keep me strong! I shall keep on resisting the temptation to purge, although it's getting harder and harder. 

I've discovered the underline button.

I think I'm reaching that stage where I'm so old and tired, too tired to be paranoid and be in denial and to get in my own way. This is probably the first time I've been able to see my situation clearly. 

Firstly, I'd like to say thank you to Christina. LOVE YA GIRL!!! Don't you EVER apologise for leaving long comments. I LOVE your long comments, especially since you always agree with me! It's a very egotistical thing, but I love it when people agree with me. Leave as many long comments as you want! Hell, leave even longer comments! Have you seen how long some of my comments are? Freaking long! 

Secondly, I'm really starting to get more of an idea of how I look. I don't think I'm ever going to think that I'm pretty or thin enough, but I know that some of my outfits are a bit...well, a little...tarty. Not that I ever show that much skin. I have a strict rule, I'm it's low cut, then I either wear pants or the skirt will be just above my knees, no higher. But I seem to...gravitate towards, super professional tarty clothes. 

It got me in a bit of trouble today. Which is probably the only reason I noticed. My access card to campus stopped working and I needed security to show me up to the department. The entire way there the security man was telling me how good I looked and how beautiful I was and insisted on taking me the entire way. It wasn't flattering in the slightest. It creeped me out like mad. 

I went straight to ask for my access card to be extended. I'm also probably going to ask the professor to give me after hours access so I can work some weekends too. So I never have to ask security to show me up. I was really, really scared although I'm not sure why. 

I remember saying that I would be flattered if a complete stranger told me I was beautiful. No, I was so wrong. I'm not flattered at all. Just scared. 

Today I wore a dress that I've not been able to wear for 5 years because I was too fat. It's made of that sort of material that shows off every single lump and bump. I still had lumps and bumps today, but far fewer than before and I sort of felt like I deserved to wear that dress again. 

The professor was very nice to me. He said that I looked great and tres chic. Then continued to refer to yesterday's patients that we operated on as my patients and then presented them to them as if he was the student and I was his boss and then introduced me to another doctor who is on the board that chooses who gets onto the training scheme. It was most bizarre. I did not know what to say. Sometimes he acts as if I'm his boss and then lets people know that he's doing EXACTLY what I want him to do. 

Honestly, with professors like that, who needs boyfriends. He compliments me and tells me that I look good, he buys me coffee, he does what I want him to do. AND he also pays me, gives me publications to speed up my career path, introduces me to people who matter, mentors me and even gave me my first proper nickname. That's like, so much better than any boyfriend I could ever imagine. 

And one other thing I realised...how bad my eating disorder really is. I always knew I had some form of EDNOS. But then, now, when I do eat, it's one meal a day. And almost always vegetables only. I found myself getting really upset when there weren't any vegetables and today, after a dinner of vegetables only, when my parents were out of the house, I went around looking for food. I wanted to go sit and cry in a corner when I couldn't find any food. 

But I've come a long way. Yes I binged. But then again. My binges now are VERY different to how they used to be. My binge today was probably a 400cal dinner and then 500cal of noodles. That's still less than my BMR. And not even a quarter of what I would normally binge. Normally I can sit and eat thousands worth of KFC and miscellaneous other fried stuff.  Not to mention potato and gravy. Oh, and pasta. And if there is ice cream or cake...oh that would be trouble. God I miss those binges. But I haven't binged like that for a long time. And I've been pretty good at restricting this week. Even though these binges have been getting better. I still feel bad about them. GOD I MISS LAXIES!!!!

Now I'm way too scared to go near any of that. I only eat it if I'm with a good friend, to stop them suspecting anything. I don't really go out with friends and so when I do, I have to appear normal.