not since 2 became the new 4 and 6 became the new 14.

"I've got thick skin and an elastic heart."

First things first. HAPPY 2014 EVERYONE!!! I know we've been up and down for a while now but hey, I am going to start this year with a positive frame of mind. I can totally do this. I can totally lose this weight. 

And from that lead, my first weigh in of 2014:

From a starting weight of a disgusting 62.8kg, my weight is now 57.2kg!!!!

It's nowhere near an end point, but, I'm going down and that is what is important! I lost nearly 2kgs in the past 4 or 5 days. If I think of it that way, it's not nearly as fast as I would like, but I'll take it. And for today, dieting is on hold. It's New Years, I'm Asian, and I'm cooking and eating dumplings. 

Then I'm going to spent hours in the gym trying work off an indeterminate number of calories. 

The online dating guy continues to baffle me. I am currently operating under the guise that he is seeing multiple other girls. If that's the case then I am flattered to be the one that he chose to call at midnight. He had been texting me all night (while I was on duty at work!) and then called me at midnight, blind drunk. I'm surprised he was even operating a phone. 

I don't even want to begin to have a crack at what is going on. Just forget it. Focus on me. Focus on losing weight. He can do whatever he wants to do. If it fits in with me then cool, if not then too bad. 

This year will be about me babes. I'm going to become who I want to be. Thin. Very thin. Thin and gorgeous. Smart. Plays guitar. It'll happen. Watch this space!

my fitness pal

"Well this particular scenario feels like another all time low."

MyFitnessPal. I am so addicted to it. My username is JudithMarie24 if anyone wants to add me.

So my friends, here is my intake for today:

-1 cup of mac and cheese 250cal

-1/3 cup of cooked spinach 14cal

-1 serving of rice vermicelli 90cal

-1 can of sardines in tomato sauce 140cal

-1 cup of cherries 74cal

=568cal total intake

And my output:

-30mins of Tae Bo ....which apparently is -297cal. Seems far too efficient but then again, compared with how tired I feel, it sure feels like -297cal.

=net intake of 271 calories. 

And the magic sentence...if every day were like today, I would weigh 51.8kg in 5 weeks. Oh god, please let every day of the next 5 weeks be like today. 

And even though it is only 1pm, I have decided I will not eat any more today. I may do some more exercise later. If I get hungry, I will drink hot tea and cold water. No alcohol. No juice. No coffee. Maybe a can of coke zero if I'm really desperate. 

The thing about MyFitnessPal is that it totally freaks me out about my intake. I mean, 74cal in a cup of cherries! WTF! I thought I was having a nice low calorie snack! 

I didn't feel like I'd had a big lunch/ morning snack at all but 568 in total says otherwise! I should really trade the mac and cheese for 10 cups of salad or something like that. The spinach was a really nice surprise. Maybe I'll live off spinach for a while. 

My lack of appetite continues! And I'm so glad. I still can't eat. And after a few bites I begin to feel a bit nauseated. The lack of food is already starting to give me a bit of a hunger headache, I'm still waiting for myself to adjust to it. 

Thanks for the feedback about the guy I met online. It is nice to see that my sentiments are shared. The whole thing confuses me. I agree that men can be huge sleezeballs and I just have to be super careful about it all. And in a fit of ego I agree that I deserve better than someone who is still scouting for better options. But...unless he has amazing organisational capacity that I can't even begin to fathom, then he's being really quite sweet to me. 

He's currently on holiday in another part of the country with a big group of his friends. They planned the trip a year ago apparently. They've hired a series of beach houses, brought their boats. Lots of fishing, an outdoor spa, and relaxing and drinking. Sounds good, I'm seething with jealousy. 

He left the day after our last date. But he's been texting me good morning every day, good night every night and he updates me several times a day on what he's up to. He sends me pictures of everything. He says he wishes I were there too. Tells me to rest well on my days off, tells me I must be feeling tired on my long days. 

It makes me feel...really quite...chuffed. Mind you, it's entirely possible that he is very organised and is juggling this same act with goodness knows how many girls. If he is doing that, then I wish I had half of his logistical skill. It would come in really useful in my job! Still, it's nice to pretend that it might just be me. 

I should make a habit of thinking of him at mealtimes, then I might just not eat for the next five weeks and weigh less than 50kg at the end of it all. Less than 50kg seems like an impossibility. It seems like a dream. I haven't been less than 55kg for such a long time. 

The plan is to weigh myself in 2 days time. On New Year's morning. 

hoping for the best

"Problems have solutions. A lifetime of fucking things up fixed in one determined flash."

You know your life has problems when your hairdresser can see something is wrong when you show up for a ten minute fringe trim. Skye has been the first person in a long time to recognise how hard I'm working, and that yes, it is fucking difficult. That's what happens when all your other friends are doctors, when you're all working the same fucking job, you don't want to be the one loser to complain about it. 

I book in to see her in another 4 weeks. She looks at me, and I know that I don't need a haircut in 4 weeks time, even with my high maintenance cut. But I'm near tears at this point and she comes and gives me a hug and books me in anyway. I walk out as fast as I can, because if she hugs me again, I will cry. I feel angry and upset that I'm still fucking working. I've only got 7 days left in my marathon month of work, but I'm growing impatient. 

I feel like such a whiney ass. I just need to suck it up, box it in, man up and get on with it. This is no different from any other doctor. I hate being this frail when everyone else seems to be so strong. 

My weight is...I have no idea. I've been way too scared to weigh myself. Given that the last time was 118lbs, and I know I've gained all the weight back since then, I just know I'm going to have some sort of mental break down to see a number back in the 120s. 

I had another sort of wake up call today. My Vivienne Westwood dress has arrived. It's IT40 in size, which is my usual size. But it doesn't fit. It's too small. I can't button it up past my waist. It fucking sucks. It FUCKING SUCKS. It's an expensive dress. And maybe in 10lbs time, I will be able to fit it. I should be able to fit it. Fuck. It makes me wonder how much I actually weigh. My only hang up is that, it doesn't button up over my boobs. Now, my boobs are one of the only good things about me. 

When I say that, I mean, my boobs are the only thing about me that I think guys like. I'm not pretty or skinny, or anything. But I have a great rack. I wear a 32DD size. Which I find absolutely ridiculous, it doesn't feel like a real size at all. I do feel that I would rather be skinny, and ditch the boobs, but I'm so torn because men so obviously like them. 

That last sentence sort of makes me feel like I will end up as some serial killer's victim. Which tells me that I should stop my serial killer documentary marathons. 

I'm hoping night shifts works its magic on me again. I'm hoping and praying. I dropped 6lbs in 4 nights last night. I'm working 7 nights this time. I'm praying I lose at least 10lbs. If I'm up for it, I might try to do some exercise at the same time, but realistically, I know that probably won't happen. 

All this, all of what is going on makes me feel like I'm more depressed than I give myself credit for. And I know I need to get some sort of help for it. But really, when do I have the time. If I had the time, I'd get enough sleep for a start. 

On top of all that. Joe. Ugh. I was going to say that I don't know where to start but the truth is that's is because I have nowhere to start. Nothing has happened. I text him a few times, no reply. Fuck. Okay then. The logic tells me he's just too busy, sees the text and forgets to reply but it doesn't feel great. 

And the more I think about it...well. I remember seeing a patient with him, one with a history of self harm. He saw her scars, she said, I used to self mutilate and his response to that was "what gives you that?". I mentally facepalmed so hard. What gives you that? Fuck. He's too unobservant to notice my scars, either that or he doesn't think I'm capable. Fuck. Makes me realise I don't think I'll be able to tell any man about this, ever. Only one of my friends knows about it. And besides her, only the professor. 

There is a whole other story about the professor. But this post is full of enough self pity already without me going that way. 

NOTHING IS GOING RIGHT. I fucking hate it. This has to change. I need something to start going well. I don't know how much longer I can carry on like this. I need something. ANYTHING. I need something to go well, I need something in my life to be right. And please god, let that be my weight. 

hula hoops, adrenaline and the ability to read minds.

"Flight of fancy on a windswept field, standing alone, my senses reel."

Any position is painful. My abs, my poor burning abs. I've recently taken up hula hooping and man, it's not as easy as it looks! I'll hoop on and off for an hour a day while watching TV...maybe 30mins in total. I started it because this whole Joe thing makes me incapable of sitting still for any period of time. Apparently hula hooping can burn 300cal an hour. I'm going to underestimate and say that I might have burned 100cal today. It's something!

If I'm still, I'm thinking about him, and then the adrenaline gets pumping and I can't still any longer. I have to jiggle something, I am walking up and down the length of the hospital, I have to get up and hula hoop, I just have to move. Every time I sit down to meal, I suddenly get an overwhelming urge to vomit. Today I probably had...400cal at most. I don't have an accurate count because...during the day I had a coffee with milk, 100cal. Then at dinner I cooked myself some noodles, a bowl of cabbage soup and a plateful of green vege with mushrooms. I ate the vege and mushrooms, probably half a cup in total and had  few mouthfuls of noodles and cabbage soup before I felt dangerously ill. 

I had prepared a lot of food because I know I haven't eaten a proper meal for a long time, and I wanted to binge. I really did want to. I wanted to stuff it all inside me and just feel full and bloated. But when it came down to eating it, I just couldn't do it. 

This is such a strange ill. I can't eat because I feel ill and I feel ill because I don't eat. The result is that I permanently feel ill and I just don't eat. 

Right now I am not sure what I weigh, I weighed myself this afternoon after drinking a litre of water, and with my clothes on, and not having gone to the bathroom for 2 days, and it was 121lbs. I've spent every hour since that weigh in wondering if there are 2lbs of weight on me that I can not count...how much do my clothes weigh? What if I hadn't drunk that water? What if I had taken some laxatives? Would that number have been less than 119lbs? 

I haven't been less than 119lbs in like...well, I don't remember the last time I saw a number less than 119lbs on the scale. 

This is a miserable existence, but at the end of the day, when I stand on the scale, there is no such rush comparable to finding out that my weight has gone down. God, I want it to go on though. I want to see Joe more. The more I see him, the less I want to eat. The more thin I want to be. 

Still, I had a realisation today. Joe has absolutely no idea how I feel about him. So I am officially the worst flirt in the whole wide world. I am sure he doesn't know I am currently just a wee bit mad about him. Dammit. Why can't he just fancy me and make the first move? If that happened I would never ever eat again. 

Liebster Blog Award

I have been nominated for The Liebster Blog Award by Loveylou and Rachel and let me tell you, after an extremely busy week, and just arriving home from a 14hour shift, it lifted my spirits. I now have 100 followers, and I can't believe it! I've come a long way from the little blog I started for my own sake really. So I am deeply grateful.  

The Rules.

In your next blog post....
1.Thank the person/people who nominated you & Include a link to their blog.
2.Include 11 things about yourself.
3.Answer the 11 questions from the person who nominated you.
4.Choose 11 bloggers to nominate, they must have less than 200 followers.
5.Create 11 questions for them to answer.
6.Let them know you nominated them. 

Hi! My name is Judith Marie. 

1. I am 22 years old, but I have been mistaken for a 14 year old. I sometimes still get let on with child fares.

2. I absolutely adore old Brit shows. 'Allo 'Allo, Dad's Army, Open All Hours, Porridge, Blackadder etc etc.I've seen them all. 

3. I have so many clothes that I had to convert my study into an extra wardrobe. It's a little embarrassing but I still love my clothes!

4. Red heels. I love red shoes. But then again, who doesn't? 

5. I can count the number of people I really call friends on one hand. But that's not something that the general public know and a lot of people I secretly hate consider me a good friend.

6. My German Shepherd is my most treasured possession. I adore him. He's my little baby. 

7. Ever since my parents suggested I get my eyes "fixed" (I've got Asian single lids and this is the double eyelid surgery) a few years ago, I've been considering the surgery, and I'm starting to think about rhinoplasty and liposuction too.

8. I'd love to look like Twiggy. She's my idea of beauty.

9. Secretly, I wish I was Scottish. I'd love a soft, Scottish accent. I find it so charming, I think it would make me charming.

10. I once went to a doctor about being depressed. But even though I scored full marks on the depression scale, I managed to brush it off so well that she ended up telling me "even though you score so high, I think it's just your personal nature and that you're not depressed." Somedays I think about that and I think "if only". I might be very different if she'd referred me on.

11. I love ballet. I'd love to be able to be a ballerina. When I have enough money, I plan to take lessons.  

Questions from Loveylou

1. What do you love most about yourself?

Boy this feels like a job interview! Physically, I love my wrists. I think they look lovely and boney and that's why I would never cut there. Otherwise, I like my stubbornness. How I always do what I think is right and I won't bend to please people who mean nothing to me. 

2. Describe a memory that makes you proud

My qualification ceremony, hands down. Biggest moment of my life. All my hard work built up to it and it embodied everything that I wanted, cared about and had worked for. The dress, the shoes, the lipstick and all my classmates. It was the moment of my life where I lived entirely in the moment. 

3. If you could change one moment in your life, that you think would be pivotal, and could change the course of your entire life, would you? What moment would you change, what would be different?

When I was 11 years old, in intermediate school, I tried out and got the position of an aerobics instructor at my school's physical education program but I missed the first practice and was too embarrassed to go back. I think that if I had kept going, I would have been in the "in" group with some of the popular and pretty girls and my life would have turned out very differently because I have never been popular in my life. 

4. What would you do if your family and friends found out about your eating disorder and/or blog?

The first sign that anyone had found it, this would be deleted. I can't afford for people to read the contents of this. I doubt my family would be first so hopefully deleting it would be enough damage control. If somehow everyone found out, I would go out and throw myself under the first train I found. 

5. If you could be anyone, who would you be and why?

Miranda Kerr. What she has isn't exactly what I want, but she seems so happy with her life. I'd love to be able to be happy with my life even if that means a hunky hubby, a cute son and a killer bod. Okay, so that life doesn't sound so bad after all. 

6. What is your relationship with your parents like?

On the surface we joke around but I don't really feel very close to them. I hold a lot of pent up anger directed against them but I don't think they know about it. Maybe that's why we have so many conflicts in the house. 

7. What's your favourite 'safe food'?

Cucumber. It's so refreshing and tasty and it's sooooo much water and so few calories. 

8. What are you doing when you feel the most happy and joyful?

Driving. I love to go for long drives, fast, winding drives with some good driving music pumping out of the car stereo. That's when I feel so completely myself, that's when I get to do my thinking and sort out my shit, that's when I feel so free and alive. 

9. If you could be any animal what would you be?

Arctic wolf. I'd love to be a graceful wolf, living in the beautiful North, snow, cold, fur. I'd love all that. 

10. What is your favourite fashion statement or 'look'?

It's hard to describe. If any of you happen to be familiar with the designer Alannah Hill, then you will know. It's sort of mismatched, eclectic girly but I prefer to do it with a mix of edgy. Does that make sense? So, super feminine with an oddness that might be a mismatch or a slight hint of rock.

11. If you could make one wish, what would you wish for? (can't be body related in any way)

I would wish for an ididic memory. Then I would read every single medical textbook and know all the answers to everything at work and never feel like I'm panicking when I'm faced with a puzzling medical dilemma. 

Questions from Rachel

1. What music to you like and why?

I love alternative music. Think Tool. And I love Nine Inch Nails. My current love affair is with the Icelandic Of Monsters and Men. I think I like it because the lyrics all mean something to me. I just find it so hard to connect with most mainstream music today. 

2. Do you sing or play a musical instrument?

I used to play violin and guitar but I had to quit both when I got super serious about scholarships and school. I'm trying to pick up guitar again but time makes it difficult. I will do it though. I love the guitar. 

3. Can you pinpoint when your ED began? Why did it start?

I have 2 major points in my life. I can pin point when my anorexic and self harm thoughts first began and it was when I was about 12 years old and I had gone from my multi-racial, down to earth public primary school to an exclusive and exclusively white intermediate school. I was shunned socially, but found a few other outcasts to hang out with. Then one day one of the popular girls asked me what I had got my sports badge for (it was for orienteering). When I replied, she said to her friend, to my face "oh, so that's it. I was wondering, because, you know, look at her." I had first started to really seriously restrict when I moved out of home. At home I my parents dictated my meals but when I moved out I just stopped eating.

4. What's your favourite season?

I love winter. I love winter fashion, I love layering, I love coats and boots. And I love the fact that all that covers my ugly fat.

5. If one food of your choice could have no calories, what food would you choose?

My first instinct is to say fried chicken! Boy, I love fried chicken! But, I'd have to say noodles because I eat a lot of noodles. 

6. Describe your hair: is it long? short? straight? curly? dyed? how do you like to wear it?

I have short, straight, black hair. I wear it pretty much in its cut, almost bob shaped. It's growing out and I have to recut it soon. I'd love to have long, curly hair but I don't have the patience to grow it. 

7. Diet coke or diet pepsi?

Diet coke. But if I could really go around the question, I really only drink Coke Zero. 

8. 3 favourite books?

The Color Purple, The Bell Jar, The God of Small Things.

9. Who are some of your celebrity thinspirations?

I'm sure this will be the same as lots of other people but, Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman in Black Swan. Also Kiera Knightly, Victoria Beckham, Rachel Zoe and Karlie Kloss. 

10. What's your bedroom like?

It's got cream walls with dark wood furniture. I have a series of photos in frames tessellated on one wall with a dresser and a mirror opposite. I also have a great stereo. Right now I've got clothing covering the floor. I wish I had a bigger mirror but I've only got one thin, floor length mirror. 

11. What is your dream career? do you think you'll end up doing it?

My dream career is a doctor. And I am doing it! 


My Questions:
1. How would your life be different if you didn't have an ED?
2. Thinspiration or reverse thinspiration and why?
3. Favourite item of clothing?
4. What is your dream holiday?
5. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? (can't be body related!)
6. Besides your ED, what is your next biggest problem?
7. How much do you think the fashion industry has contributed to your ED?
8. Do you have any tattoos or piercings? Would you ever get any?
9. How does your ED affect your relationships?
10. If you were on death row, what would be your last meal?
11. What is top of your bucket list?


My nominations:
1. Toofatforwords
2. Oustsideintothin
3. Sam Lupin
4. Jackie
5. striveforperfection
6. nothing tastes as good as skinny feels
7. Christina
8. Lana Banana
9. xXpOsErXx
10. fuckingpicnic
11. Beth

I've drunk a lot and I will now write!

"Now there are thoughts like these that keep me on my feet."

Read the title of this post, you have been warned!!!

What have I drunk? I don't really remember. I know it all started with a lovely, deliciously fresh and refreshing glass of viognier and then 2 bourbon and cokes and at least another 3 scotch on the rocks with a twists. Man, it was good scotch too. It was the 47 year old single malt that I bought for my dad in Scotland. And cost a pretty penny. 

Why am I drinking? I don't really remember. But hey! I'm sure that was probably the point of it all so as far as I'm concerned, it has been a very successful venture. But the last thing I need is a drinking problem on top of all my other problems so this is the last time! Mind you, I did say that after the last time I drank so much. 7 drinks at dinner in London. And I managed to get myself home on the underground perfectly fine. I thought I was super lucid, not so sure how true that was...but I got myself home and it was all good and fine. I'm sure there are bosses who would fry my ass on a stick if they heard that story, but that's why they don't know!

Today I have taken my high maintenance to a whole new level...with semi-permanent eyelash extensions! They are beautiful and now I don't feel bad about my natural short-ass stubby, ugly eyelashes. And they cost me $230 with an upkeep cost of $70 every 3 weeks. I'm slowly, one aspect at a time, improving myself. 

First the eyelashes. Well, first the piercings and tattoos and then the eyelashes. And the very little headway that I've already made with the weight loss. And I am seriously starting to think about cosmetic surgery. Well, first the liposuction, and then to get my nose and eyes fixed. 

Maybe. But then again, I could just spend the money at the swish pilates place that I've been eyeing up and hope to carve myself a new body. Maybe. 

One way or other, I will get there. Just realised that I will have enough money to speed up the process. But I feel I should do the pilates option. It will be better deserved that way. 

And with all that going on, I don't know how I'm going to manage to buy myself my first house. I'M BUYING A HOUSE MOTHERFUCKERS!!! Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to live in it. It'll be rented out, and added to my family's collection of houses. That way, when I've paid off my debts and I'm gone, my parents will still have my houses keeping them comfortable. Apparently I talk like I'm made of money. I wish!

But now, with all swiftness, back to my body. And yes, I AM that vain. I'm currently not monitoring my calorie intake (officially). And I probably will never count my calories ever again. Woop! Woop! Holla dat! Right. Now there is a reason for this. I'm about to start work. EVERYONE drops tonnes of weight when they start work. EVERYONE. 

And now I know the key to losing weight. Step 1. Pile on the weight of the earth in stress. Step 2. Add one incredibly understaffed and overworked hospital. Step 3. Add disgusting cafeteria food and long hours. Step 4. Add me. 

As long as I throw myself into the work that is about to throw itself at me, I will be busy enough to not eat. And I will be at the hospital for breakfast, lunch and dinner which means that I will be there for no meals at all. If I don't lose on that regime, then I will never lose weight at all. 

I will weigh myself in the morning of my first day, and then I will weigh myself every week to see what happens. In a way this is an experiment. Let's see what happens. 

knowledge is power

"We give and take a little more, the eternal game of tug and war. Power and control."

The endless pit that is my stomach rumbles shamelessly and the noise seems to echo through my ears. I'm convinced that the whole room can hear it. Ramming my fist into my abdomen in a vain attempt to curb the sound, I stubbornly continue to flick through my stack of x-rays. It's a test and a woman stands over my shoulder, listening to my every word. It is the final test, in many ways I am already qualified. 

The words spill from my mouth in such rapid succession that my fellow clinicians look concerned. I'm so mechanical in this, I barely know what I'm saying myself, my voice sounds like a far away drone and in my state, the words mean nothing. "PA erect chest x-ray of an elderly female patient of good penetration and minimal rotation. There are no obvious bony defects or soft tissue swellings. Gross cardiomegaly is present with increased interstitial markings, blunting of both costophrenic angles and septal lines. There is peribronchial cuffing in both lungs as well as upper lobe diversion. All of this is consistent with congestive heart failure."

The woman behind me nods and moves onto the person next to me. I release a breath that I didn't know I was holding. I'm done. Next time I walk into a hospital, I won't be a student anymore. Fully qualified, holding lives in my hands. I think back to the first lecture I ever had at medical school. The opening line of this lecture was "as doctors, you will all kill patients. Hopefully none of you will do it deliberately. This is something you have to accept now or you will have a hard time." I don't know if I've ever come to terms with this. It scares me to the bone. 

I try not to think about it. Try to get on with what I need to do. 

"Oh my gosh, you're so thin!" But I'm not. Most of the other girls have lost much more weight than me. In England, I got down to almost 50kg. Then I got back up to 57kg. I think I'm hovering around 54kg to 55kg now. I have lost a bit of weight since I got home and away from that recovery house. I can feel that I'm thinner, but nowhere near as thin as I was when I was in England. Not as thin as I was when I was in control of my own food. 

But this just goes to show that I can do it. I can lose a lot of weight very quickly. I can also put it back on very quickly, but I can lose it, and that's a relief to know. A little discipline is all I need. And it does come off. I had the faintest of thigh gaps for a while there. So it's possible. Now all I have to do is to get back there as fast as I can. 

Tune out the hunger, it means nothing. Tune out the headaches. It means nothing. It's so simple when you boil it right down. At the be all and end all of any conversation, when I don't eat, I lose weight. So if I want to lose weight, all I have to do is not eat. It's very, very simple. 

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. 

pretty hate machine

I got my heart but my heart is no good. You're the only one that's understood. I come along but I don't know where you're taking me, I shouldn't go but you're reaching back and shaking me. 

Turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky. The more I give to you the more I die. 

You're the perfect drug. 

It's almost 10pm and I'm standing outside ED in the rain. I wrap my coat around me and look up and down the quiet road. There are a few patients smoking in a corner, there is a hobo lying in the bus stop, then there's me. I've not eaten all day, I've been working almost 14hours and I was shaking with the cold. Lights. Blinding. She pulls up and I clamber in. She deposits me at home and drives out and buys me fried chicken. We share it. 

I know the fried chicken was a very deliberate choice. She knows I've not eaten all day. I find it hard to be mad at her. She's one of my best friends, she's my flatmate, she's my colleague. She's been staying up, waiting for me to call her to pick me up because she won't let me walk home in the dark. In a way, I've never been cared for like this before. 

I swallow my chicken, fighting the rising bitterness. I know she's taking care of me. And I do love her for that. This is just an ED, ruining an otherwise lovely moment. 

Paediatrics. I love it, but it's not my thing. Being around kids disturbs me, and this sounds stupid, but it's because they are smaller than me. I feel some sick sense of satisfaction when I see a child who weighs more than me. I want the long, lean, boney appearance of the young girls. I want to look like that. This must be why I hate my boobs. I'd much rather be flat chested. 

I must be the only female I know to complain about having size D cups. My guy friends are apparently very fond of my boobs. Just the other day one of them told me that he and his now ex-gf had an argument over me and my boobs. 

I've been away from this blog for a while because I was PMSing and somehow my hormones convinced me to have a crack at recovery. The thought process was this: if I am this miserable when I'm trying to lose weight, so miserable that I want to die, how bad can it be if I stop trying to lose weight. How bad can it be if I just give in, do what my boss wants me to do and just stop trying and even gain some weight? I can't imagine it being worse than wanting to die. 

And I have to say, that was some solid logic. Pity it didn't really transpire like that. I upped my calorie intake. Probably not by much because I didn't have any high calorie foods in the house, maybe to 1000cal a day. Then I just worked out harder at the gym so that my net calorie intake was about 500cal a day. And I can tell that I've lost some weight doing that. I've not weighed myself yet but I can feel that there is a small change, maybe 2lbs. 

2lbs loss. And that kicks off the vicious cycle. As usual, nothing in this life will feel as good as seeing the number on the scale go down. Now I'm back to restricting. I'm going to keep my calorie intake up a bit more, because I loved the difference I felt at the gym. But the strange thing is, when I wanted to lose weight, all I wanted to do was eat. Now that I'm actually making an effort to eat more, I'm finding it extremely difficult. 

Ah well, see how it goes, I'm so far down that if I go down any more, I'll be 6 feet under. Which is fine too. 

lovers in japan

Tonight maybe we're gonna run, dreaming of the Osaka sun, dreaming of when the morning comes. 

Issy and S-babe pull up their seats and we each clutch our cups of coffee. "We're convening." Then conversation and laughter flows without any effort and we catch up on half a year worth of missed time. The same happens a bit later with T and J. It's been so long since I last saw them and it shows me just how lonely I have been this year and it shows what a difference it can make to be around people who care. 


S-babe tells me that T was really, really excited about seeing me. Haven't seen him for a very long time. We talk about Europe, England, holidays and I walk away feeling very excited about my 8 week trip when I had really worked myself into an anxious frenzy about it. Being with people on my wavelength, who I get along with and who care about me is so refreshing, it almost worked away 6 months of stress and loneliness. 


I didn't get to see the professor. I avoided it. I didn't really want to see him. I'm scared that if I see him there will be a wave of untold stories that will just burst forth and then I will be riding tidal waves of trouble. I can be rather pathetic about this. There is a huge amount of pressure when it comes to the professor. It's an emotional bottleneck when I'm faced with the one person who knows all my secrets, seems to care about me but also wants to help me and in doing so could stop me getting what I want. Thrown in there to complicate things is the fact that he determines my future in medicine. 


It was the wrong thing to do. I should have seen him. I don't know. I feel like such a burden to him. I don't know what to do. 


In the meantime, my weight loss efforts have gone down the drain as I entered my hungry part of the month. I've been binging for the past 2 days. I think I had about 800cal today, but I had waaaaaaaaaaaaay over 1000cal yesterday, too many to count. I'm too scared to weigh myself because I'm too scared to see a gain. 


I haven't been working out because I'm so stressed about my visa, about seeing the professor and about sitting my full driver's license test that in my spare time I'm absolutely paralytic and I just sit and fiddle around on my laptop. And in doing that, I'm getting nothing done. I just need to snap out of this, but I can't. I hate this. 

too fat for words

The 100 Day Challenge

Stuff taking a break. It's too hard to take a break when all I can think about is losing weight and being so freaking fat. 

I was reading a blog called "Too Fat For Words" and she was talking about this 100 day challenge. 100 days to get to a set of goals. This is just what I need to keep myself motivated. It's a nice way of staying focused. I'm going to Bristol in 20 weeks. That's 140 days. And I do not want to look this fat and ugly when I go. This is awful. I will be lovely and thin for Bristol. 

So if I start on Monday, then I will have about 39 days to spare at the end of the challenge to squeeze a little bit more weight off and get myself sorted itinerary wise. Meanwhile, for the next 100 days, I can focus on my weight and finally do something that I can be proud of.

These are my goals:

1. I currently weigh 125lbs. I want to weigh 90lbs when I leave. I must lose 35lbs.

2. Finish that goddamn paper that I've been working on as long as I can remember

3. Be able to do the splits on both legs. 

4. Book hotels for the week before I start work in Bristol. 

5. GAP BETWEEN MY THIGHS EVEN IF IT KILLS ME!!!! 

6. Fit into size 6 jeans. (NZ size 6. This is the smallest size you can buy here without getting children's sizes.)

At 90lbs I want:

1. To be able to see 4 ribs without stretching up or sucking in.

2. To be able to see my spine easily when I bend over. 

3. To have my hip bones stick out.

4. For there to be an almighty gap between my thighs. 

5. To be able to see my arm muscles. 

6. Concave stomach. 

And I will do this in 100 days. In just over 14 weeks. That's 2.5lbs each week. I will do this. I will do this.