so what sort of lingerie did you get?

"That kind of life just ain't for us. We crave a different kind of buzz."

Everything feels messy and a bit out of control at the moment. I will admit right now that I have been completely and utterly off the wagon for the past...I don't even know how long. I honestly, honestly haven't thought about how I am going to lose weight for at least a week. Which I am feeling so very guilty about. All of a sudden I am aware of it, and it is all a bit too late! My fault, totally my own fault. 

So now it has to be all hands on deck...or something to that effect. Be all and end all is that I have to start working out seriously. I've got lots of catching up. At least I have managed to not gain anything. Still sitting extremely flatly on 58kg. I want to be under 55kg by Valentine's day. That's 2 weeks away. I feel like I've somehow got my work cut out for me, even though it seems perfectly plausible. My plan is to have net -300cal per day, with the exception of Chinese New Year which will be like, +5000cal. I'll see what I can do. Will try to eat lots of the salad and less...roast duck. 

So much talk about food dictates a trip to the grocery store. Everything in my house feels so very...high calorie. I despair at the fact that I cannot have a full meal for only 20 calories. That would be ideal. Or you know, have a piece of fried chicken for 20cal. I love fried chicken!!!! I just walked past a KFC today and I almost melted to the ground because of the smell. It was amazing. All I wanted to do was to walk in and eat all the chicken in there. 

But then I grab a few handfuls of belly fat and realise that that is not a feasible thing to do. The best I can hope for at this stage is to lose a little bit in 2 weeks. Long term investment anyone?

Feels weird...the whole boyfriend thing. It feels pretty good, but hey, the motivation changes. Now I have this huge fear that he is going to leave me for being fat. So I have to lose weight to keep him. 

Does that even make sense???

I told him that I got some new lingerie and he is sooo looking forward to taking me away for the weekend. I just don't know how I am going to feel attractive in it. I look so bloody fat. 

We're never done with killing time, can I kill it with you?

"I'm glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway, and I like you. We move in the tree streets, I'd like it if you stayed."

Another small absence, and I have so much to say!

So firstly my weight appears to be rather stagnant at 58kg. Incredibly so. I blame it on my stupidly irregular periods. I had a hungry week, while on night shift, and so completely didn't notice. Ate like a fucking pig on nights. Only had 2 meals a day but seriously, those were like 3000cal meals. So much food! And I was hungry throughout the nights too. *sigh*

Now that my period is here, hopefully I can get back on track. Hate having my period but at least it coinciding with a cold means I can have a sick day from work and have a Jadelle inserted. 

I'm going to be vigilant like mad when I do because weight gain is a very common side effect. But what stands still stands, if you don't eat too much, can't gain weight. It apparently makes people hungry? I should know the feedback mechanisms. I'm hoping for it to go smoothly, I don't really have a choice, the amount of unprotected sex I've been having is really too much for me to not do something about it. (and when I got this period, I was like, yesssss, not pregnant!)

Any of you ladies have one? Any effect on your appetite/weight? I can always get it taken out if I get too fat on it. Will be on MyFitnessPal like a freak!

Things with online dating guy are going well, as you might have deduced by now. I shouldn't call him that anymore since neither of us have our profiles anymore. A few days ago I decided that I didn't care what he thought this was, things seem to be going well and so I was just going to remove my profile and stop having that lingering thought driving me mad. 

But just before I did, I was awful and had to check if he'd been active or not. And to my absolute surprise, his profile was gone! I was so pleased, and not to mention completely sheepish at thinking that he might still be playing the field. 

We went away together for the weekend. Which is how we ended up having all that unprotected sex. It was so much. It was almost 2 much. I mean, honestly guys, and I'm not exaggerating...4 hours, then 4 hours sleep. Then another 3 hours. I mean, WTF is that. It's a real testament to his fitness because after that I was exhausted, and he was still okay! I lay there like a dead fish while he got up and made us tea. 

He really doesn't have a thing for condoms, and I'm not about to not sleep with him for that. But there ain't no way, not on any level, am I okay with potentially getting pregnant. Hence the Jadelle. 

When we were at the hot springs together, he was joking about meeting my incredibly shy and scared flatmate. "Wouldn't it be funny if I met her and then suddenly gave her a big hug and a kiss?" 

Well, the longest relationship she has had was a year, and at the end of that year the furthest they had got was a goodbye hug. Not even a kiss on the cheek. 

"She might find you later and say, Judith, your boyfriend tried to rape me!" 

I laughed. And a split second later did a double take. Did he just call himself my boyfriend? Is he my boyfriend? 

Well this is certainly a first. Can't honestly say that I've had a boyfriend before. In fact, I most certainly have never had a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend guys!!!! 

it's a date...I wish.

"Constant overstimulation numbs me but I would not have it any other way."

Well my tattoo has now reached the horrible itchy, peely stage and I'm going mad not scratching it. I've never wanted to scratch something so much in all my life, except all my other tattoos at this stage. I need to stop thinking about it because I swear thinking about it makes it all that much more itchy. OMG it's so itchy!

Spent all of Easter binging like mad. I'm pretty sure I ate non-stop all weekend, literally non-stop. I haven't the heart to weigh myself. I hate to think what it's done to my weight loss efforts. Good thing is, my reg is on night shifts and Joe is relieving him. So I've got him for the week. I can feel the adrenaline pumping all day and all night and I can't eat and I can't sleep and please God, let me lose some weight with this. 

I'm back to my old tricks again. I spent so much money today. Several tops, one pair of trousers and two pairs of heels later, I still feel empty as ever. I'm trying to fill a hole that only Joe can fill at this point in time. If I can't have Joe, then I will just continue to look fabulous. 

Our coffee date hasn't happened. Not for either of us trying, but logistically, it is too hard. He does apologise, and we try again later. But really, is it a date? I referred to it as one once. But I have a feeling that in his head, he will buy me a coffee, hand it to me, and just go. 

Dear Universe, I'm trying to be good, and I'm fairly sure I've never harmed anybody. In my life I haven't asked for too much, not too much at all. Please let me have this one, please, please let me have this one. Give me Joe, and let me take that fate, whatever that may be. Please, let me have this one. 

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. 

snug in size 0

"Let me be empty, oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight."

I'm losing my head. Losing it completely. I can't possibly be on my game. It's Joe. Stupid fucking Joe. No, that's not true. Joe has nothing to do with it. Stupid fucking me. Stupid, stupid fucking me. At any rate, I sought help over this matter, and my friend, who I was hoping would talk me through it and help me just get over him instead text him on my behalf and asked him to coffee. 

Fuck. Okay, so coffee isn't a big deal. It really isn't. And in the hospital, it is a total necessity. So it isn't as big a deal as it is in my head. In my head I'm making a mountain out of a mole hole. 

At any rate, me and Joe are trying to find a time to have coffee next week. I don't really believe it will really happen, but we'll see. 

Nothing about it makes sense at all. The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. By all accounts, I should hate Joe. But I don't. Gah!!!! Nothing makes sense, and I absolutely hate this sense of losing control, I hate this feeling of everything spiraling out of my control, I hate that I can't even control my feelings. 

I feel so insecure that I am doing something that feels so fundamentally wrong for me. There is a reason I am 23 years old and have never had a relationship, never had a fling, never been kissed. And to step outside this comfortable little box of mine...it feels like shit. 

Can't eat, can't sleep, can't think of anything except Joe. What sucks is, even though I know I am suffering this much, I'm sure that Joe is completely unaffected. 

Ah well, every cloud and all. 

I felt thin for the first time today. It took me completely by surprise because at 119lbs, I still think I'm fat as fat as fat. Even though I've lost enough weight for me to be pulled aside at the airport and have 3 different people stare at my passport to see if it really is me. So I must look sort of different. 

When I look in the mirror, all I can do is pinch and pinch at all my fat and I feel like shit. But today, when I was at the bank, and feeling miserable for being at a bank...I was sitting, sort of hunched over, legs crossed with my arms over my legs and I suddenly felt a hollow. I felt like there were gaps between my limbs and a hollowed out stomach and I felt thin. 

I have NEVER felt thin before. I was shocked and stunned and absolutely delighted. So today, I have only had one chicken kebab and a bowl of cabbage soup with a few pieces of squid. I don't know how many calories that is...but certainly no more than 700-800cal. Not as good as I'd like. 

I think this Joe thing...all food seems so unappetizing. I want to eat, because I'm used to eating and binging. I haven't done this in a long time and so somewhere inside me, I feel like I should be due for a binge right about now. But faced with food, I just want to vomit. 

Do you know what the problem is? Joe is tiny. He's so small. He's a wee bit taller than me (and I'm 1.6m) and he is fucking skinny. I am so tempted to ask him he weighs just to get a rough idea of how much fatter I am because I am SURE that I weigh more. I've always wanted to date a much bigger, muscular guy, one who I would trust to catch me and pick me up than one who is smaller than me. 

Dammit, I need to be smaller than him. This is just insane. How can he be so fucking small! Why can't I be that fucking small! FUUUUUUCK. And at the root of it all, why do I have to fucking fancy him???? 

But to the title of this blog...since I have lost enough weight for me to notice, I decided to try on some of my "trial" clothes. I have quite a few size zero items tucked away in drawers and closets. I squashed into quite a few of them today. All those skirts that i never used to be able to fit are now quite snug. SNUG. So maybe another 6lbs later, they might actually be comfortable. 

It's so nice to be able to fit into some size zero clothes, so nice. So good to have some confirmation that I am going in the right direction. Come on 100lbs, come on double digits. Maybe when I'm thin, I'll feel better about Joe. 

But for now, if I can't control what is going on with Joe, then I need something to hold onto. I need the certainty of starvation and weight loss. I need some constant in my life. 

I got us coffee.

Haters gonna hate. 

Well with those wise words from ASLNik on my last post, I'm going in to book my next tattoo on Monday. Need to get it drawn up first, but then I will get it done. Thanks for your comment, and you've voiced what I've often thought myself...my scars, tattoos, they are all part of my story, and are all part of what made me what I am today. 

Even though I may have changed, it's always important to remember where I came from, and to remember why I am the way I am. Fuck, you're right. If a guy is going to love me, he will love me, tattoos and all. If he can't handle a tattoo, he sure as hell won't be able to handle my other problems. 

So...my calorie count for today was...700 or 800 calories, because I have no idea if that was trim milk or regular milk in my coffee. I was stunned when I realised for the first time that in a large coffee, there was more than 100cal difference between trim milk and regular milk. 

Totally 300cal more than I needed or wanted. But what's done is done and all in all I had a good day. 

There was teaching this morning, I sat there with the junior doctors, crammed around a computer screen. All of us tired and fading away. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there is a hand, holding a cup of coffee, creeping over my shoulder, jiggling it in my face. I summon the energy that does not exist to drag myself out of the stupor and grab it. 

The warmth from the paper cup creeps up my fingers, my arms, into the core of me and suddenly I realise everyone is staring at me with a mixture of envy and amazement in their eyes. I turn around and I see my registrar Cam smiling down at me. "I was a bit late to that meeting so I decided to gap it and get us coffee." 

There is an unspoken law that the most junior member of the team gets the coffee, and he's just broken it. Everyone is dumbstruck for a moment, even me. As he sits down beside me and listens in to teaching, I feel like the cat that got the cream. With a face like a smug dog, I look around at the other house surgeons thinking, jealous bitches? Not that they notice, of course, they are too busy staring at the coffee. 

Later that day Cam calls me. Are you okay?--- What?--- You haven't called me all day so  got worried. ---I saw you 2 hours ago Cam. Everything is still okay.--- Oh. I was worried because I hadn't heard from you.--- Okay.--- I'll call you again later. 

I call him an hour later, jobs all done. He must be in the middle of clinic but we have a long chat, full of laughs and profanity. I tell him I'm going onto nights. He says he'll miss me. Gosh. I'd TOTALLY be the cat who got my pot of cream, except for the fact that Cam is very much married. Why are all the good ones married? But I suppose that questions answers itself doesn't it. 

Day 9: another brick in the wall

"Threw you the obvious and you flew with it on your back."

To be honest, I had suspected her all along. I can smell Ana's stench from a mile away. I know just what she's like. I wanted to do nothing more than to leap out from behind the curtains around the bed, point my finger at her and shout "I know all of this is Ana, don't you keep telling me it's something else!" 

Nobody else knew what was going on, not until the episodes started to coincide with meals and with certain foods. But I knew. I knew all along. I knew exactly what I wanted to say to her. 

You may think she's gone but she's always with you. You may have gone to an inpatient unit, you may not have restricted for years, you may think you've left that side of you in the distant past but you have not. I know her tricks, I know where she hides, I know when she likes to come out and play. You may be able to fool your mother, you may be able to fool all the other doctors but you cannot fool me. I may be fat, I may be binge eating, but she's in my head every second of every day and I see her in you too. 

So I talked and talked and talked. I talked to her every day, I talked to her in lots of different ways. And she fought me and fought me until one day she just got it. She got it. She saw what Ana was doing, the weird ways that she was coming out, and now she's all better again. But that made me think. Do we ever shake her off? 

Sorry for being so fatalistic/nihilistic today. Sometimes I feel like we are all the same, all just another brick in the wall, the big, big wall that is ED and that is all we will ever be. 

Sometimes I think all my patients that are annoying and demanding and frustrating are just bricks in a wall that I keep running into. That's how I feel about my job sometimes. I have to get up in the morning, every morning and keep running into the same wall. 

Run, hit, bleed and binge. That's the cycle I'm in. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so stuck. I'm stuck professionally, I'm stuck personally and I'm so stuck with my ever increasing weight. 

I want to die every time I see Mark because he's just so perfect. And now, to add insult to injury, there is a surgeon who makes me all hot and bothered as well. I don't even know what his name is. But I want to just jump on him. Dammit. I need a break from life. A permanent break from life. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

feed my will to feel my moment, drawing way outside the lines.

Reaching out to embrace the random, reaching out to embrace whatever may come. 

Firstly, thank you Christina for that advice. I do try to do that sometimes and while I must say I never fully understand it, it does temporarily provide me with enough insight to at least know on a superficial level that people care about me. I might not take it in at all, but knowing it at all does help. 

There is a lot that I've been thinking about recently. And for the sake of my own sanity and ability to understand a life that is starting to spiral out in all directions, I will list the things that I have been pondering. 

1. My recent weight gain/lack of weight loss. 

There are not too many ways that I can look at this in a positive light. While I'd like to say that this was largely because I have been forcing myself to eat 3 meals a day in an attempt to stave off the collapsing episodes that I have been having, I have to admit that it is also because that I have been using a legitimate attempt to recover from illness as an excuse to eat. 

By default, I am not allowed to eat. And this is the setting that I have operated on for the past year and a half. There are times that I am allowed to eat, mostly these are times where I must eat in order to stop people worrying. Being on a setting where I am allowed to eat all the time, especially when I feel faint (which was all the time) meant I suddenly started eating everything that I wanted to. 

Like I was trying to make up for a year and a half of holding back. I lost all control and just ate like a little pig. And so I gained weight. I'm not surprised. I knew I was going to gain weight. But I allowed myself to slip, all under the guise of recovering from fainting spells. 

2. What I am going to do about this backward slide. 

At the end of the day, the basis of my entire problem can be reduced to a simple equation. If I eat more than I burn off, I will gain weight. As far as concepts go, it doesn't get much simpler than that. So the answer to this question is simple as well. Eat less. Work out more. 

How to fit that in is a rather different issue. Now that I've had an episode of binging, I'm stuck on that mode. I'm always hungry. All I can think about is food. And what else I can cook and what else I can eat and how I can scrimp on money to buy more food. It's ruining me financially. I have to just buy food once a week, and no more and just eat what I have. 

It's not much, but it's step one towards control. 

3. The cutting. 

Now this is probably the one that is the hardest fix of all. I'm writing this post as I pluck my eyebrows and I remember the first time I did it. It hurt so much that it made my eyes water and I wondered why women put themselves through this hell regularly just to have better eyebrows. Now I barely feel it and plucking my eyebrows is just part of my routine. Cutting is just like that. Now it is just part of my routine. 

There is no doubt that I cut more as I get more stressed out. As far as I am concerned, it is a really effective method of stress control. I don't really see a problem with it. My problem is that society doesn't seem to hold the same view as me. I'm running out of places to cut. My abdomen is bearing the brunt of it, but my scars aren't fading at all and I find myself cutting deeper and deeper. So much for the many sets of bikinis that I own. But at least winter is approaching. 

4. The help/the temptation/the burden/the professor. 

Those things are all and the same to me. There are so many issues around this that I don't even know how to start thinking about it. 

You will know that the professor offered to help me. But since I put on such a happy performance, he seems to have happily forgotten about it. I'm sure that the only reason I think that is because I don't see him very often. I'm sure that if I saw him every day I would realise that he has very much not forgotten and is carefully watching me. I think he thinks I am slowly getting myself better. And that pleases him. 

I don't want to worry him. But as I cut and binge and restrict and exercise, all I want to do is to go crawling to him and ask for help. No. It doesn't even go that far. All I want to do is to go crawling to him and have him pick me up and hold me so that I will feel safe. 

He is busy. Very busy. And to ask for time, to ask to be part of his personal life, to let him into the dark, dark depths that I dwell in is just too much. On some level, one more thing added to a million things to worry about isn't very significant. But I don't want to be "not very significant". But I also don't want to be a burden. 

Each day I am more and more tempted to write to him. And tell him that I'm not doing so well. To be held and comforted by a daddy, a different daddy to the one who caused me so much pain. But when I am in front of him, I can't help but smile and say that I am okay. It's not in my programming to tell people that I'm not okay. 

I want him to know. But I don't want to tell him. I want him to know without me telling him anything. 

Each day I feel like I am pinning too much hope on him. He can't be expected to fix me. Only I can fix me. 

5. The end of days.

When you realise how easy it can be to take your own life, in that moment the world seems to pause for you and you are filled with terror and power at the same time. I try to think of all the people who might give a toss. What would my flatmate do? She'd have to give up our current flat and go somewhere else because she certainly wouldn't afford a place like this on her own. 

My parents would be lumbered with the massive debt that I've accumulated during my education. My co-authors would be lumbered with the papers I've left half finished. 

Once that is sorted out, I will have a clearer mind. But on some nights, I don't think the guilt of letting people down is enough. Some nights, at some ungodly hour, I am awake in bed, literally twitching with the desire to drive out and find my train. It would be so easy. But no. I won't. Not just yet. Right now, there are other things that I have to take care of. 

dirty little secret

I've been giving a lot of thought to eating disorders recently. After watching Kate Thornton's Anorexic: My Secret Past, I've been spending a lot of my time contemplating eating disorders and what it would mean to other people. 

She talks a lot about how her anorexia affected other people and that's probably the one area of anorexia that I can't understand. Even though I watch all the eating disorder documentaries that I can find and each and every one of them talk about how much the illness affects family and friends, I still can't get it into my head. 

There is something so odd about the concept of other people wanting to care about what I'm eating, if I'm eating, how much I weigh. I can't believe it. Some part of my brain just refuses to compute that. It's a most bizarre concept. 

I don't understand it when people worry. I don't completely understand that they do worry. I think they are being stupid. But then again, I don't completely believe that they are worried. After all, I'm so fat, why would they worry about my weight? 

But on some level, I must know that it is a bad thing and that it will worry people, because why would I try to hide it so much? On some level I still have some grasp of what is "normal" and what is "abnormal". But my grip on that reality is slipping fast. 

I can't remember what it's like to eat 3 meals a day, every day and not flinch at the thought of it. I can't remember what it's like to go out to dinner with friends and not try to count the calories in every meal. I can't remember what it's like to order what I want to eat, instead of carefully scanning the menu and choosing something that's possibly low calorie but not so low as to alarm my foodie friends. I can't remember what it feels like to live a day without feeling disgusting and fat. 

I used to pride myself on my grip on absolute space. The place that was dimensionless and has no concept of time and contains at every single point, the absolute unbiased truth. My my absolute space is changing. I've got my own version of it now. I've created my own reality and my own truth. And it no longer matters what would normally exist in absolute space. That precious truth that I used to treasure and hold onto for dear life now doesn't hold any value for me. How did I get this way? 

best find a surgeon, come cut me open

My friend and I have tickets to see St. Vincent perform!!!!! Wooooo!!!! I love Annie Clark, she's so beautiful. I wish I looked like her. 

Ah, what I wouldn't give to look like that! But no matter how wizardly I become with make-up I shall never be that pretty. My ugly little Asian eyes with the awful single eyelid that hides my stubby short lashes will never be that pretty. And my button up-turned nose. *sigh* I guess genetics were never really on my side. I was never destined for that beauty. 

Anyway, the weight loss attempt has taken a rather interesting turn. I'm at a rather odd balance in life right now. I can't really do the negative calorie balance thing anymore. I was doing it while I was vegan. But I guess a year and a half of constant binge/purge and restricting cycles has taken a toll. That long of not eating normally has got to have some effect. And until now I had believed that I could somehow escape it and that everything was okay. 

But alas! I was convinced that everything went downhill when I turned 21 and I was soooo right! At my ripe old age of 22, I can no longer handle all that stress. During general medicine, I worked 8am-5pm but I slept about 4 or 5 hours a day because I spent the rest of the time studying. Now, in general surgery, I work 7am-5pm days and my body refuses to let me scrimp on sleep. 

Now when I am tired, I just shut down. There is no more reserve for me to burn through anymore. Now when I am tired, I simply faint. Like my body is saying "well fuck you, I'm doing what I want" and I just collapse. I've collapsed 3 times now (in public) and passed out countless times in private. It's really quite bad. I spent half an hour lying on the floor in a bathroom in the hospital today because I knew I was going to faint and I spent that long holding onto the floor and trying to drink water to get myself back up again. 

Medicine is so not a glamourous job. 

And I'm eating. 3 meals a day. It's really strange. I haven't eaten like this for almost 6 years now. But in the morning, I get up and I have fruit. At lunch I will have maybe some noodles and then I will have vegetables for dinner. I'm fairly certain I'm averaging 800-1000cal per day and the thought of that is killing me. But on the other hand, the shame from passing out at work is also killing me. I don't quite know what to do. But I have to eat, or else I keep passing out. 

After dinner the guilt of eating so much always gets to me. So I go to the gym. I burn 300-400cal there. It makes me feel slightly better but being in a positive calorie balance makes me feel very insecure. Knowing that each day I'm taking in net 400-700cal makes me feel awful. I know that probably won't make me gain any weight, in fact I will probably maintain a steady weight loss, especially since the frequent eating ups my basal metabolic rate. 

I will see how this week goes really. It's all just horribly foreign to me. I didn't realise I was so against eating. I thought I was choosing to eat less. But I really don't like eating, even though I love food. Eating so much is so foreign now. And very disconcerting indeed!

as I formulate denials of your effect on me

To start off with, thank you to Rachel, Fat Piggy, strive4perfection and Christina for your lovely comments on my last blog post. 

It's raining outside. I'm upset but I forget exactly why. All I know is that I feel as though the world is ending. Melodramatic? Yes. 

I rush through many sets of double doors, down vomit-beige coloured corridors and I know that I'm in an unnamed hospital somewhere. I'm running and running down my vomit coloured hospital corridors and somehow it is raining inside now. The stinging icy shards of rain melt into the hot tears streaming down my face. I'm cold and tired and devastated.

In that way that can only happen in dreams, I am suddenly redirected from my Newtonian method of running to walking down carpeted floors and richly painted walls. It takes me a while to notice that I am no longer where I used to be. His arm is draped across my shoulders as we walk and then he picks me up and I am being carried through time, and I know I am going to somewhere safe. 

I find myself standing in his living room. He's sitting on his leather couch and he pats his lap. I squirm a bit and shake my head. "Why not?" I shake my head again. "Are you scared you'll be too heavy for me?" 

I sit in between his legs because no force on this earth and in the land of dreams will compel me to sit on his lap. He cradles me and softly croons to me in that deep, melodic voice of his. I slowly drift off...

...I look around my room to find what has woken me. 

My phone is buzzing. New Text Message. I curse it for waking me from such a nice cream. I look at the time and find that it's some ungodly hour of the morning. Who on earth is texting me at this time? 

The professor. The shock of seeing his name immediately after that dream causes me to fumble and drop my new iPhone. His text says that he's in Abu Dhabi. At least that explains the time difference. 

The past week has been an unmitigated disaster. I can't even bring myself to stand on the scales because I know I've gained weight and I really, REALLY don't want to know how much I've gained. And I know it is A LOT. 

I started the week off with binging. I stained my bedsheets with blood from all the cutting and I snuck around at night cleaning them. I felt so full that I was dying for some laxies. And by the time Wednesday swung round, I resolved to fast and go to the gym. Good plan. I was looking forward to getting back on track. That morning, I rush to theatre, scrub in for the first case of the day and faint within the first half hour. Fainting in theatre. I will never live down the shame. 

And this brought on an amazing amount of binging. Endless binging. More and more food. Clothes are tighter, things cease to fit me. I can see the fat piling on. And that's not a turn of phrase. I can actually see that I am fatter. I hate it. I hate it so much. But I brought it upon myself. I am so ashamed of myself. I didn't want to open this blog because I don't deserve to post here and have you lovely ladies read what I write when I am such a failure. 

I miss the professor so much. Somehow, knowing that he is in Abu Dhabi makes me miss him more. I wish he was here. I want to do what I did in my dream and sit in his embrace and tell him about how I hate everything that I have become. I can't even lose weight properly. I want to hear him to tell me that it's okay and that I am a good person and not a complete waste of space and energy. 

But that scenario is really one that only exists in dreams. 

Then I think of J, the professor's wife. She's slightly taller than me. Maybe by an inch. And she weighs 56kg. He told me this. And so it makes me think. J is like a mother to me. So if my mother is going to be 56kg, then I should be well and safely tucked in the 40s. The ideal would be for me to be 10kg smaller than her. I'm not sure why, but I feel like being smaller than her will make them both like me more. 

Flawed logic, yes. 

Next week will be better. Next week. 

weight gain and weight loss

This is the winter of our discontent. 

My flatmate and I are suffering in our little world. She has failed her exams and now can no longer go on her big overseas trip at the end of the year. She's usually so upbeat and witty and fun, it's such a shock to see her crying and lethargic and dull. I don't know what to do. I don't want to be too upbeat and desperately try to cheer her up. But apparently the only alternative is to ignore it. I'm trying to strike a balance between the two of them and I'm not sure how successful I am being. Maybe she just needs time. 

A couple of things. Firstly, 76 followers???? When did that happen? HELLLOOOO!!!! Also, to my new followers and my old ones, blogger is just not telling me when all your blogs update so if you want me to follow your blog or check up on it, message me in the comments. Sometimes I'll log onto a blog and find lots of posts I've somehow missed. 

Next is that my weight is swinging wildly out of control. My flatmate's depression goes hand in hand with junk food and I've been binging like some pig. And this makes me very VERY itchy for laxies. I haven't taken laxies since the end of last year and I don't have any left but I really, really do want some. I want to take a handful of them because I'm pretty sure I'm blocked up. I swore off them but I really do crave them. I guess time will tell what happens.

The cutting is coming back with quite a vengeance. I've been wanting to cut for weeks now but have refrained until today. 5 cuts on my upper outer left thigh. My usual depth and my usual sort of cutting. It felt good, but it didn't feel like it was enough. I wanted to cut deeper, longer, and I wanted more cuts. I'm trying not to cut my abdomen because I've pretty much already guaranteed I will never wear a bikini again and so that really only leaves my thighs. I am desperate to cut my arms but it's summer and I don't want others to see them. 

I know I've gained weight, probably all the weight I lost so successful and with so much grandeur when I was vegan. I don't want to weigh myself. I think I will go through next week with vegan/fasts and maybe a few laxies before I subject myself to the scale again. 

I hope you girls are doing better than me. Love you all.