walking slow circles around "progress".

"Don't tear me down for all I need."

And yet again I have managed another lengthy absence without meaning to. I really wish I had more to say to you all. I wish I had come on here to be like, so I've lost 8kg and now I weigh 50kg and am starting to get a thigh gap and my collarbones and ribs stick out. 

But no. I weigh 56kg. Which given the time off that I've had is frankly pathetic. 2kg is all I've managed to shift. Pathetic! All I have to do is drink water and that goes up. I pee and it comes down. I am so not satisfied. All my fat is still there as it ever was, I never really restrict enough for it to be burned away, I never really work out enough for muscle to show through. So basically my fluctuations in weight are based on how often I go to the loo. And that makes me want to give up. 

In short, I have to be honest and say that I've not been trying. I will have these piercing moments of motivation, usually in the middle of the night, where I say I will get up and go for a run and then do yoga and then go to work and then hit the gym and eat 500cal the whole day. And that never happens. I end up crawling out of bed to work, back into bed and 1500-2000cal goes in in the meantime. 

Moving hospitals, having a boyfriend, it's all lulled me into this sense of complete apathy where both stress me out in different ways and result in me being stressed out completely that I just make myself numb and feel nothing. 

I can't even begin to talk about work. It sucks. And I'm bored so I eat. The end. 

I don't want to begin to talk about the boyfriend. There are so many layers of fucked-upness in my head. But what is clear is that he is a nice, stable, caring guy and I am generating all the problems in our relationship. With my demands that stem from insecurity blah blah blah. And my selfishness which means that I have no idea what he likes but he knows exactly what to do for me. Basically I struck gold and he lucked out. I'm just waiting for him to leave me. 

And I swore I would never be one of those girls, but I am so scared of him leaving me that I've started using sex as...a tool to keep him. He's not dumb. He'll notice that soon. I have nothing to offer him, and that is not a position I ever imagined myself in. 

But the upside to all this is that I'm currently on nights which makes restricting somewhat easier. I can eat a bit of my one meal a day and then not eat again for 24 hours, slowly weaning myself off the constant eating that I have been doing. Maybe one day in the coming month I will fast. Maybe when my boyfriend goes on his 6 week business trip I will fast for 6 weeks. Maybe he won't be my boyfriend when that happens. 

Everything is just total resignation right now. 

losing weight! and fucking engaged.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep." 

Let's start on a good note. THE DRESS FITS. IT FUCKING FITS NOW. It is night number 4, I don't know how much weight I've lost but I'm now at 120lbs and the dress fits. Part of me is SO RELIEVED. That is a Vivienne Westwood dress, not cheap, so when it didn't fit, my heart just sank. I can't say it's a perfect fit, the buttons up the front are tight, and it doesn't look great when the buttons pull...but the point is, I can get it on...and I've yet to work night number 4, so I'm not even halfway there yet. 

I'm hoping by the end of 7 nights, I will be properly fitting that dress. Not just squeezing into it. And just like last night, the start of night number 4 and the nausea is setting in. Something about night shifts does that to you. I still eat my one meal a day, but the amount that I'm able to eat is steadily decreasing. 

Look down at my tummy, see rolls of fat, feel disgusted. Squeeze the fat all over my body, feel even more disgusted. I am still so fat. I am so fat that it makes me feel sick. Fat and bloated. I need to start working out but I'm so tired. So very tired. 

I've decided that with my next pay cheque, I am going to buy myself a coffee machine. It's probably not a great investment, but whatever it takes to get through right?

So some news, I've found out that Joe is FUCKING ENGAGED. I am completely and utterly mindblown at this news. When I heard, I was like...W.T.F. I guess I feel there is something in him that is so un-marriable. Well, maybe for me anyway. Even though I am in such disbelief, now that I know who is fiancee is, a lot of things make more sense. His fashion sense for one. 

See, I've always believed that the way a man dresses can be a dead giveaway to his relationship status. Joe has always puzzled me. His shirts and pants are always well ironed and he is always well groomed, but, but, his shoes! And the style of his clothes are so...off. I had written it off as him having like, an OCD complex about wrinkles or him having a really nice mum who still does it. But his wife! (future wife) Absolutely lovely girl. Delightful, I really like her, but the woman has no taste in clothes. It's a pity too. She's absolutely cute as a button, but dresses like...well, if I were to ever dress like that it would signify me completely giving up on life, but I guess fashion just doesn't matter that much to her. 

Funny thing is, when I heard the news I just felt the wave of hate crash into me. There is so much hate flowing through me that it gives me energy. I can't sleep. Which sucks because I'm on night shift. I can't eat. Which is a lie because I stuff my face every evening. (On a side note, I am losing weight despite the fact that I eat each night and haven't gone to the bathroom for days so yay.) I can't fucking do anything. All I want to do is run, but I can't because of the torrential rain outside. 

I can't work out who the hate is directed towards. Do I hate Joe? His fiancee? Or myself. I'm not sure. And I don't know how to work it out. All I know is that I hate something. And boy, do I FUCKING HATE IT. I want to fuck something up real bad....reeeeeal bad. I don't know what I want to do. I want to hit something. 

And something inside me just feels dead. 

And a voice inside is starting to scream and wail. You stupid idiot. You broke the one rule. Always presume they are taken until proven otherwise. The one time you break the rule, look at what happens. You fucking broke the rules. And what are you going to do now? Try to fill a hole inside you that you never knew you had but secretly hoped Joe would fill. Now he can never fill it. But food won't fill it either. 

Yes, yes, hope is gone and all that stupid crap. But live in the moment and the only thing that remains now is how you deal with it. Think of it this way. There is a space to fill. If you are smaller, that space will also get smaller and smaller until it goes, and then there will be no hole to fill, and then you will be okay again. Now isn't that a better, more logical solution than eating your pain away. 

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. 

crawling back into the hole

"Head like a hole, black as your soul. I'd rather die than give you control."

I don't know what came over me. I don't know what happened but suddenly, suddenly I feel it all rushing back. 

There is an uncontrollable desire to look at thinspo, which I have been doing for hours. And all this is horribly triggering. I can't stop looking though. The bones. The collarbones, the ribs, the thigh gap. I'm drinking it all in. All of it, back into the space in my head that I've kept reserved for it. And now my whole body is itching, all of it itches to get rid of the fat. At whatever cost. 

I've got another problem. With the desire to lose weight comes the desire to self harm. Always, hand in hand, the two of them come walking. One is screaming "disgusting fatty, no more food" and the other is silent but smiling and hands me the knife. 

I need to cut, I need to cut, I need to cut. I can't sleep. I need to cut. I need to stop watching these goddamn anorexia documentaries. I need to cut it all out. 

This fucking sucks. It sucks. It's far too overwhelming, seeing how little I've progressed. It makes me hate myself even more. It makes all my flights of fancy seems stupid. Why should anyone like me. Fat, ugly me. Ugly, disgusting, fat me. 

Does anybody else get that? It's a kind or restlessness that fills you and stops you sleeping and stops you working and stops you doing anything but think about how fat and ugly you are. And what a failure you are. 

Input and output. Fucking hell. I need to stop shoving food in my gob and I need to run like the fat girl that I am. Fuck. I fucking hate myself. I need to cut. 

I need to cut and let the suicidal thoughts come and wash over me. In a strange way I've missed feeling like this. A part of me misses going to bed each night hoping to not wake up again in the morning. It misses the secret stash of blades, which I'm staring at right now, and the ability to reach out, grab one and peel open the metal packet and slice through my skin. I miss the stinging pain, the rush of warmth and the pearls of blood that bead up and up and up and then run, run, run. 

I miss the cold tears that can only be stopped by blood. I miss the fear and panic and misery and frustration that can only be put to rest by blood and thoughts of death. I miss fantasizing about stepping out in front of a train, about being in a car crash, about slitting my wrists in a bath after a bottle of benzos, about collapsing at work with a stopped heart that won't start again. 

I want to be thin. I want to die. I want to cut and bleed and die. I want to be boney and bruised and dying. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nice to learn something about myself I guess. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you and me. we're in this together now. none of them can stop us now.

...we will make it through somehow. 

Before I launch into this post I want to start off by tying up a few ends. 

Firstly, I want to say hello to any new followers! I looked today and suddenly realised that I have 91 followers now. I'm stunned. Hello, thank you so much for following my blog, please leave a comment and I will follow your blog right back. 

Secondly, I want to say a big thank you to everybody. I really do. I must admit that Andrea's comments threw me wildly. I went to a really low place for a while after reading them. I felt so useless. Reading what she said, well, I'm already miserable, and I know that what I am doing is bad, but if getting a boyfriend and perking up would be enough to snap me out of this, then why wasn't I good enough to do just that? I felt like such a worthless, useless, incompetent mess that I would be better off not existing. I have never known such strong suicidal urges. 

I can't say I'm over it, I can't say I'm not still suicidal. I've been cutting more and more and I can feel the old grip of depression creeping in. But. I've also made myself a plan to lose weight. For now, if I can get a grip on my weight, then I can start to get a grip on other things. For now, I need to focus on one small thing at a time to drag myself through thiss. 

Thirdly, I want to say sorry for my absence. For a while there I really did think I was going to end my life and I didn't want to come here and be talked out of it by anyone. I didn't want to post any sort of message that some people might think to be attention seeking. When I end my life, it will be my choice, and there will be no apologies to anyone. 

At any rate, I return to you all with renewed vigor and determination. Just like the way I've titled this post. This is you and me. We're in this together now. None of them can stop us now. We will make it through somehow. We're fighting a battle that no one can see. That doesn't make it any less real. We are all doing it together. Though we are apart physically, we are all striving for the same thing, we live and breath for the same thing. We are linked together by a common thread that separates us from the rest of the world. And I know for sure that I cannot do this without the knowledge that you are all out there, sending me love, wishing me the best. And I do the same for you all, every second of every day. 

In a strange way, this blog has prolonged my life significantly. This knowledge makes me want to wake up in the morning and give it all another go. And I can't thank you all enough for that. I hope that you all can appreciate that. 

I think this is all I can say for now. I am still struggling with the cutting, and the can of worms that comes with that. I am still somewhat scared and wary of posting anything on this blog because I don't want to read comments like that again. I'm scared by how they affected me and I'm scared of how I may react in the future. When you can no longer trust your one outlet of self expression, everything gets thrown up in the air. 

So I bid you goodbye from this post, with the promise that I will post again, and that like you, each fibre of my being longs to be thin and fears food and the consequences of eating. 

suicidal fantasies

"I want you to know I'm not through the night. Sometimes I'm still fighting to walk towards the light."

There is a deep, primal grumbling beneath me. The jagged rocks cut into my bare feet, I can barely feel them due to the cold. It's a bitter wind, it's a biting wind, it's a bracing wind. It is one last kiss from life. An icy kiss to farewell me from a life that never loved me. 

It's my hometown. It's the place where I grew up. And here I recall a childhood of ignorant bliss, muddy football stained t-shirts and cream cakes and scraped knees. A time where size and weight were irrelevant and calories were still mysteries held by the universe. And here I recall leaving that behind and entering a different world that was not so kind and not so forgiving. 

School balls and Valentines and boyfriends and shopping malls. Those were never meant for a girl like me. They were not part of my world of textbooks and calculators and tutors and exams. I'm not sure if I ever lusted after them. 

Years of trouble. Taunting. Teasing. Loathing. Hatred. Self-harm. Now I am old enough to recognise it as abuse. At the hands of my classmates, my so-called friends, my family. One day I'm stupid. One day I'm fat. One day I'm ugly. One day I'm unworthy. Everyday I am something that I wish I was not. This is what became my reality. 

If my reality is a cage from which I cannot escape then I care not to know what the general populus knows as reality. Because it is irrelevant. 

The grumbling beneath me grows, the stones I stand on start to tremble, my heart begins to race, my body begins to shake with the adrenalin that pumps through me. Automatic and accurate, one foot moves in front of the other and I wriggle them once I am balancing on the smooth metal railings of salvation. 

I want to dance. I have never felt so full of anticipation, so powerful. Now I understand that none of it ever mattered. In this moment in time, none of it ever mattered and I am happy. There is no doubt. There is no regret. There is no shame or sorrow. I am finally getting what I want. 

It's so close. I can hear it now. The vibration down the line is like electricity coursing through my veins. Under my breath I hum that dear old tune that's kept me comfortable for years "she's got a ticket to ride and she don't care". 

I can't see. The light is too bright. I can't hear anything but my heartbeat above the roar fast approaching. The dense night air rushes towards me, carrying with it the promise of resolution. 

I spread my arms to embrace whatever may come. 

I think of all those I love. 

The one promise I did keep - I loved them till whatever end. 

I am engulfed by the light and the noise. 

One big hum. 

The cold becomes warmth. 

The light becomes darkness. 

The heartbeat slows. 

This is freedom of choice. 

I have never been so happy. 

it's a champagne year full of sober months

If you say it is, then I guess it is. 

Well so I talked to Ben today. More like, he forced me into talking to him. He's been chasing me around, asking me if he can talk to me to clarify what he was saying. I share my life on this blog and so I shall list a few of the comments that he made to me. And I say a few because I can't remember everything that he said to me. 

He said an awful lot. 

He said that he really likes me. 

My personality, my style, even the way I smell. 

That he's liked me for a while now, nearly a year and a half, and that he's always thought I'm cute. 

It's like playing poker. He's laid his hand out for me to see. 

In it is the ace of hearts. 

What happens now is up to me. I can choose to play on. Or to fold. 

It's like a line taken straight from some trashy teenage novel. I want to pinch myself because I cannot believe real people actually ever talk like that. Part of me still doesn't believe it. My sense of denial must run pretty deep for me to doubt the plausibility of something that has already happened. 

I tell him that there is a lot of shit in my life. In my head, I silently list them. Eating disorder. Low self esteem. Depression. Anxiety. Self harm. Attachment disorder. Body dysmorphic disorder. Suicidal ideation. I tell him that I think it's unfair for me to drop him in the middle of so much shit. And that he can't possibly understand the magnitude of shit that I'm talking about. 

He tells me that he wants to put up with the shit.

Is it worth it to put up with so much shit for me? Yes it is. 

But only if I think it's worth it. 

He tells me to take my time to think about it. Everything at my pace. 

Uneasiness wells up inside my chest. I already know that I cannot do this. It is all far too much. It is all far too overwhelming. I cannot deal with this. Not Ben. Not now. There really is too much shit. Too much for me to deal with. Too much for me to express to someone. 

I thought that once this day came, I would be relieved. Relieved to have someone who truly likes me and wants to be with me and to look after me. But I am just filled with fear. All consuming fear. I cannot handle it. There is too much fear. I cannot trust him. I cannot trust myself. And now I'm stuck. 

H-E-L-P help me, help me

I wish I had a gentle mind and a spine made of iron. 

Oh my fellow skinny-lovers, you have guided me thus far in my journey and have not lead me astray. Lead me not into temptation! 

I need help. Muscle connects to the bone and bone to the marrow and ire. I wish I had a gentle mind and a spine made of iron. H-E-L-P. Help me. Help me. 

It's currently one of my favourite songs and the mantra the defines how I feel about my current situation. 

A recent change in circumstance has sent me spiraling into a world of confusion and I can't even begin to think straight. I don't know what to do. Help me. 

Today, one of my friends, let's call him Ben, asked me out. I don't quite understand what this means. I thought he was joking for the longest time, but then he just flat out told me that he's interested and that now it's just up for me to respond however I want to. I don't quite understand what that means either. 

All I know is that I am filled with a sense of dread. For the first time in a very long time, I have absolutely no idea what is going on. I don't even know what to think of it. 

My first instinct is of course to say NOOOOOOOOOO. But then again, I think a bit more about the situation. Ben is a really nice guy. A REALLY nice guy. And we get along quite well. And he's kind of cute, in a little boy sort of way. It's not as if I haven't thought about dating him. On the more boring moments on the ward round, when he is joking with me and standing really close, I can imagine him wrapping an arm around me and giving me a quick hug. 

But I also know that Ben is the sort of guy who falls for girls really easily. REALLY easily. I also know that he really wants a girlfriend. And out of the people that he sees most often, in our rotation group, there are a few couples, the only single girls are me and my flatmate and I know she isn't his type. So he almost has to like me by default. 

I don't trust that he likes me for me. I think that he likes me because there is no one else to like. I don't want to hurt him because he is my friend and a really nice guy, but I also don't want to lead him on and then upset him later. 

Yet at the same time some crazy part of me is in a frenzy. I'd love to know what it feels like to have a boyfriend. I know Ben would be a great boyfriend. He would be so caring and supportive. I'd love to know what it feels like to be cuddled and kissed. 

I would not be so cruel as to drop him in the middle of my weight loss attempts and the cutting and the depression and the suicidal ideation. I don't know. 

H-E-L-P. 

Help me. Help me. 

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. 

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. 

...LIKE A BOSS!!!!!

Well girls! I've got some good news for you all! I'm so happy that I can tell you something nice for once. 

I have spent a lot of time worrying my ass off about what will happen when I see the professor. Last time I saw him he wanted to get me therapy for ED and for my cutting and depression. He wanted to monitor my weight to make sure I don't lose any more. He was so worried and I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to lose any more weight with him watching me. I was worried that if he was going to do all this and I did not comply, then I would not be able to keep my job and I was also scared he would report me to the medical council. 


I said that I would try to strike some sort of balance there and try to make him less worried and continue to lose weight without him worrying or wanting to monitor me. 


AND I DID... LIKE A BOSS!!!!!!!


My skinny lovelies, your girl Judith Marie knows how to TURN IT ON when she needs to! Hell yeah! TRIUMPH IS MINE!!!!! I walked out of our encounter wanting to jump around and I drove through the rain really fast with my stereo on really loud....LIKE A BOSS!!! Celebrated by buying lots of too tight clothes that I will soon fit!!! 


When I saw the professor I totally turned it on. I was happy, cheerful, bubbly and really, really smiley. Since I only gained weight in Singapore, I didn't look any thinner and he was really, really pleased about that and seemed to think I'd turned a corner. He didn't ask about the cutting or depression or eating...I think he was really relieved by how I looked and acted that he didn't want to bring it up. 


If he had asked he'd have found out that I'm super upset about gaining weight in Singapore, that I've cut quite a few times since then, that I can't sleep because I'm always crying. And I'm more determined than ever to lose weight, especially with my qualification looming at the end of the year. 


But the point is, he didn't ask. I also told him about my flatmate, and how she's cooking lots and we're eating it. I made it sound like we were regular binging all the time. I didn't tell him my intake is around 800cal per day and I'm going to wean it down to 500cal then 300cal soon, introduce fasting days again and join the gym next week and go every day with my friend. 


God, I am so looking forward to progress again. Sammy, my love, you were so right in your advice to slowly wean down my calorie intake after the Great Singapore Binge of 2011. I really do crave food and it's really, really hard to do. 800cal might sound okay but I'm so suffering. I just want to binge all the time. But if I slowly decrease my intake, I should be back on track soon. 


I haven't felt this upbeat for a long time! Hiking my scales to my new home so that I can keep up to date all the time with my weight. I can't wait to work hard at work and work hard at my weight and get my life back on track. 


Can't wait to give you lovely girls posts with weight loss progress! Think skinny girls! 
With every bite, think: a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. 


We will thin and beautiful together!

blood diamonds

Thank you to Zapfire, Jackie, Domino and Fiona for your comments on my last post. Thank you all for being so supportive of me, and for all your kind words. I appreciate them all and I love reading them. 

I look down at my finger and I see them sparkle like the sun on the sea. 3 dainty little diamonds sitting in a little platinum heart on a thin platinum band. I slide it off my pudgy finger. Such a beautiful thing deserves a more worthy bearer than me. Ungrateful little bitch. My ring cost more than any of the engagement rings of my married friends. I should be happy. Why aren't I happy? 

It means nothing to me. It symbolises the hollowness and ego boost that comes with any consumerist comfort. My father proudly paid for it but it makes me think of all the torment and all the tears and blood that I have spilt on his account. Blood diamonds, that's what they are. Tiffany&Co hearts might be a symbol of love but I don't feel loved at all. It's all a bit too little, too late. 

In a strange way it is better than any cut I could ever make on my body. It's a tauntingly, hauntingly beautiful reminder that I am not enough, that I am not worthy, that I am not beautiful. 

This house holds no sentiment for me. No place ever has. It's just a roof to sleep under, shared with people who all want something from me. It's all I've ever known. I do not feel safe here. I do not feel loved here. I do not feel I belong here. 

I used to want to make it work. I wanted to feel what every child should feel from their parents. I want to be loved unconditionally. Loved for all my faults and all my deficiencies. I used to want a happily ever after. I wanted a fresh start. To go back to zero and forget all the hurt and start new and be a proper family. 

That's not possible. They would never understand. They aren't capable of giving me what I want and what I need. The only option is to go. 

Some people tell me that the professor cares about me. If this is what it feels like to be cared for then it is nothing short of absolutely terrifying. I was hoping he'd forget all that I said to him. I was hoping to let it slide on by into the cold depths of my memory where I would file it under "near misses". But he wants to see me this weekend and I don't know what to do. I don't really have a choice. All I can try to do is damage control. 

Just thinking about it makes me want to cry. Opening up is not easy and I don't want to do it. I have been so judged and held up to ridicule for being Asian and for being fat, for things that aren't exactly bad per se that I can't even imagine what evil I will be exposed to if I confess to what I have been doing. I might be kicked out of medical school. I might be told to take a year off and sort my shit out. 

She's got a ticket to ride and she don't care. I'll be humming this as I wait for my train if that is what it comes to. I don't care about doing something good and leaving behind reasons to be missed. I don't want people to miss me. I don't want people to remember me. Ideally, everyone would just get on with their lives and if I'm lucky enough I will be scattered into the ocean that I love so much. 

But the professor doesn't know any of this. If he did, I'd probably be under psychiatric hold right now. 

Perk up fat bitch. Perk up and say that you are okay. That things will work out this year. Happy and healthy, that's what you are, tell him that's what you are. 

He keeps telling me, in every email, that he wishes me a happy and healthy 2012. It's a very deliberate thing. Happy and healthy, two things that he definitely doesn't think I am. Is it possible to suddenly become happy and healthy in a week? Can I even negotiate new terms? I have a feeling this matter is a very non-negotiable one to him. 

But how will he check up on me? Seeing me once a week isn't going to stop me losing weight. I dare not imagine what threats he might make to force me into compliance. 

This wonderful little world of control that I've meticulously built for myself is crumbling. The professor is blowing away my castle in the clouds. I don't want to let go. 

What am I afraid of? Is it losing my job? Is it the professor? Is it gaining weight? Or is it simply the uncertainty. 

List of things to do this week:

Move out of home to my new city where I will be training this year.

Join the gym. 

Start a new diet and exercise plan. 

Lose some freaking weight! 

See the professor. 

I wish you lovely ladies all a wonderful 2012. I hope it is everything that you want it to be and more. In the words of the professor, full of happiness and health. I love you all.