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!!!! 

I HATE ONLINE DATING. SERIOUSLY WTF.

"And I let it all out to find that I'm not the only person with these things in mind."

HAPPY CHRISTMAS LADIES AND GENTS!!!! Hope you are all having a good holiday season, one way or another. 

So a couple of things have been happening. SERIOUSLY, I HATE ONLINE DATING. I have no idea why I did this! It's killing me!!!!! And really, it just shows how paranoid I am as a person. I am definitely losing my grip on life though, I don't know what to do about it. I just wish I had never done it, then I would be in the midst of this self inflicted mental torture. 

So this is what I'm doing (yes, I know how mental it is. I know it's paranoid. I know it's stalker-ish. I know it is just plain wrong): I'm signing into the online dating site, just to see if the guy I'm seeing is still using his account. And what do you know, he is like, permanently on there! His account is so bloody active, which makes me feel great. 

We've been on 3 dates now. And the last date, it was so nice. We had dinner by the beach, we went for a relaxing walk along the beach, holding hands, or with his arm around me. We stopped and kissed. It was honestly probably one of the nicest dates I've ever been on. 

I admit I was a bit smitten afterwards. But now I know for sure that he's been on there since our date and it makes me want to kick my own head in. I don't ever want to check again, but I also can't stop doing it. It's a real problem! And it's all in my head. 

Part me really wants to just flat out ask him, how many other girls are you seeing. Are you interested in me at all, or are you just courting a big group of us and seeing who comes up trumps? Fuck. 

There is only one good side effect in all of this. I can't eat. At all. 

By my home scales, before I met up with him 2 weeks ago, I weighed in at 62.8kg. Now I'm weighing in at 59kg. So you know, that's reasonable. I'm happy with that! I can feel the difference, but it's not enough for anyone to notice, it's not enough to show in the way clothes fit. It's just not enough. 

But given the way my weight has been going, I'm just glad it's finally going in the right direction. Basically, I'll take what I can get. 

Today I ate...chicken noodle soup, half a bowl of that for lunch. 2 flat whites. 3 bites of salad for dinner. That's it. I don't know how many calories that is...maybe...500-600. Maybe a bit less. Every time I think about him, I want to vomit. I hope this feeling lasts forever. 

aaaaaaand I'm back. And fat as a whale.

"If I could change, I would. Take back the pain, I would. Retrace every wrong move that I made, I would."

Hello ladies. It's me, I'm back. 

I know there has been a VERY long and unintended absence this time. I've missed you all dearly, very dearly. But I stay away on purpose and now I'm crawling back on bended knee, hoping you will welcome back with your open arms. I've been trying to catch up on your blogs, but wow, there is so much!

Let me explain that hodge-podge paragraph. 

I stayed away because I thought that while I was eating, I might as well try to kick the whole eating disorder thing. For a while I did. But now the old habits are creeping back and now I'm fat as a whale and I have a whole lotta work to do. 

First things first. The hot cop is history. 

Let me put it this way. If I can find time in my 80hour working week for him, and for him to be too busy to see me in his 40hour week then something is very wrong. And he gave me a whole lot of excuses that made me realise he's not over his ex, he's in love with her and needs to go to the other side of the world to rediscover himself to get over her. He couldn't stop talking about her. Yes, I miss him. Yes, I'm petrified I will never find anyone. Yes, I knew for a while it was never going to work. But it still feels very hollow. 

And for the past few months I have been solidly plugging that emptiness with food galore. 

I fit none of my old clothes. I'm at my heaviest weight. I feel like a piece of shit. 

The next thing is that I have moved out of home. And funnily enough, it is not helping my diet. I am going out and eating out so much. But I have told my flatmate that I am going on a liquid fast of undetermined length. She's not opposed to it, is not going to make me eat, and so hopefully this will kickstart things in a big way. 

I can't look at myself in the mirror anymore. I just can't do it. There aren't enough words to describe how much I hate the way I have behaved, and continue to behave. 

I feel insecure. I am convinced that I will not find another guy. Which bothers me more than it should. I mean, up until I met the hot cop, I was convinced I was going to be forever alone and had accepted it. But it's like since I actually had a snippet of what it was like to be with someone, I somehow can't go back to that acceptance. 

I'm 24 now girls. I'm so so so so so not young anymore. I haven't met anyone, and I'm pretty sure I just need to get used to that. I certainly won't meet anyone at this weight. 

Ahhhhh fuck. How did I get to this, seriously, how. These should be the best years of my life but everything fucking sucks. 

And now I've reached the point where I need to be happy with something in my life, and the easiest thing is my weight. Like, I have so much extra fat, it shouldn't take too much to start to shift it. I need to do something. I can't stand being this miserable. 

I sincerely hope you've been keeping better than me babes. 

fat and wildly confused

"You've got your reputation and your good intent."

I'm halfway through my 2 weeks of WONDERFUL leave. I cannot say how good it is just to not be at the hospital. To be able to sleep late and sleep in. I wish I had some friends on holiday too, but hey, I will take whatever I can get. Been to Melbourne, shopped up a storm. Came back. Went skiing. Fell down lots but the weather was great and I had a lot of fun. 

And at this point I should offer a sincere apology for 1. being so absent of late and 2. being such a good for nothing fatass. And I mean that. F-A-T A-S-S. 

I am too scared to weigh myself because damn, I ate like a pig pig pig pig in Melbourne, and fuck it, my clothes feel fucking tight. I can't believe I'm not willingly starving myself. I must be stress eating. Swear to God this is stress eating. The hot cop is stressing me out.

This whole thing with the cop is fucking with my head so much that I almost want to just chuck in the towel so I don't have to deal with it. The only reason I haven't done that yet is because it is so obviously the coward's way out. Giving up something that could be great just because I'm scared to deal with old demons. 

But they are seriously fucking with my head. Old demons that I never thought I would need to hear again, old demons that I thought I had buried a long, long time ago. 

(I've had this blog going for a while now, and I don't know how many of you have been with me from the very start, so apologies if I am repeating myself here.)

It's no secret that my parents and I have almost never seen eye to eye. But things were a lot worse when I was younger. I started cutting when I was about 13 or 14 years old. That was around the time thing started going wrong with dad. I can't even remember what I did, but he was always mad at me. I was never good enough. No matter how hard I studied, I was always too dumb for him, no matter what I did, I was too fat. 

Every day he would tell me that I had to study more. I needed my brains, I needed to be smart because I needed an asset. He told me that I was so fat and ugly and utterly unattractive that no man could ever want me. He told me that everyday from about the ages of 13 to 18. Wow. Didn't realise until now that it was 5 years! 

At any rate, his point was that because I was so physically repulsive, I had to be smart to get a good job so that I could support myself. Because obviously I would end up alone and hideous. Or, if I became rich enough, some man might eventually want me for my money. On some level, I believe it was a twisted joke and just his unique way of trying to motivate me to study, but it has since become my reality. 

To this day, and probably forever more, I believe that I am so hideously unattractive that no man could ever want me. It is part of me, I have come to accept it, and years ago I made peace with the fact that I will never be in a relationship. That was just a part of life that wasn't meant for me, and that is okay. 

I didn't really think about it again for a long time. But now there is the hot cop. And my brain is hard out short circuiting all of a sudden. He is by no means perfect (but who is), but he is a really, really good guy. Why the fuck does he want to spend time with me? Since we started seeing each other, I have been trying to find the loophole. He wants to be with me because...he has a short, fat, boring Asian girl fetish?...he was desperately in love with his ex and I was an easy rebound?...he is actually evil and will abuse me because I deserve it?...there must be a loophole! 

I can't reconcile that a great guy like him would want me for just me. And so I'm always on guard, and I'm always non-commital because fuck it, even though this is nothing, I will still be upset when it ends. And the more emotionally involved I am, the more unstable I will be afterwards. It's all self preservation. 

Nothing makes sense to me anymore. A fundamental part of my being is being questioned and I'm hating it. 

If no man could ever want me, then what the fuck does he want with me? 

And the answer isn't even sex. If we were having crazy monkey sex every night and he was booty calling me all the time I would be like, okay, I get it. I'm the rebound girl and he just wants sex. And that would be fine. I am absolutely okay with being thought of as nothing but convenience. I would just wait patiently for him to find a girl he likes and then leave me. 

But it isn't that! Why can't it just be that simple! The whole sex thing is making everything worse. I wish he was using me for sex, but he's not. I never tell him when it hurts but I must have the worst poker face in the world because he always seems to know when it does. And he'll stop, cuddle me, tell me that it'll be okay and that with time, it'll get less sore and I'll enjoy it. At this point my terrible poker face will betray the fact that I feel guilty for him stopping. To which his response is always that we'll go slow, he knows I'm not ready to do any more, and that he really doesn't want to hurt me.

After a survey of my girlfriends, I've come to the conclusion that the above reaction, stopping mid-sex to do that is just unheard of. So much so that he's probably an alien. 

He's not even getting sex out of this, so what the hell is he getting out of it! I mean, I don't have the time to properly spend time with him. I live with domineering parents so I can never stay the night at his place, no matter how much he wants me to. I work so much that I'm always tired. I can't even properly fuck him. Why the fuck does he still want to see me? 

"Well, you're not a virgin anymore."

"Baby be the class clown, I'll be the beauty queen in tears."

So a lot has happened since I last posted here. An awful lot. And I've learnt a lot about myself. I've been out with my cop many, many times. And the odd thing is, he's not my boyfriend. Definitely not. I have absolutely no idea what is happening between us at all. All I know is that when I'm with him, things seem to be easy. And when I'm with him, I forget about everything. 

Yes, I have my moments filled with self doubt when we're not together but those are largely my issues, as opposed to issues with us. I'm already feeling guilty about things. I don't exactly have time for him. I'm ALWAYS at work, and this is making me realise just how much I work. I work a lot. He works on average 40 hours a week in various shifts. I work on average 65 hours. His longest shift is 9 hours. The longest shift I've ever worked is 16 hours. I'm starting to understand why I'm always tired. 

The other day I had a terrible day at work. Was supposed to meet up with him afterwards but I ended up finishing 3 hours late, crying and in tears. It had been the shittiest day on record ever. I text him, saying that I was gross, had had a shit day, was super late, and he really probably shouldn't see me. I mean, I had changed into scrubs because everything was so shit. People were dying, people were being transferred to ICU, it was just thoroughly shit. After all, by the time I was finished with work, he was due to start his night shift in 2 hours.

He ended up just saying I should come over. And so I did, I was too numb to do anything else really. I sort of stood forlornly on his doorstep for a few seconds and as soon as he opened the door, he just wrapped his arms around me, maneuvered me into his room and we flopped onto his bed. For an hour we just lay there like that, he had wrapped himself around me and was talking about random things and I really did just completely forget about work. 

The night before we had tried to have sex. And I say "tried" because we had to stop because I was so bleedy and paining. I mean, I knew it was going to be like that, I think I freaked him out a bit by being bleedy. I didn't mind the bleeding, but it was so damn painful. He said he didn't want to hurt me, and that we'd take things slow because it was my first time, and that I'd start to enjoy it with time. "Well, you're not a virgin anymore." He tells me as he puts his arm around me and just cuddles me for a while. 

I don't exactly know how I feel about that. But we've gone out a few times since then. And I certainly hope to be in his pants again before I jet away to Melbourne on holiday.

Now ladies, I need some advice - I've never been in a relationship before and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing and how things are going...any comments/advice/heckling is welcome. 

Thank you in advance!

getting skinny, getting skinny bitches!

"Take a chance you stupid ho, take a chance coz you might grow."

Well that's certainly what I'm saying to myself. Take a chance. I'm trying to psych myself out for my first circuit training class tomorrow. I can already see the silver platter with my arse on it. And I'm pretty damn sure it'll get handed to me a minute into the class. Why am I going? Because the hot copper will not stop asking. 

I don't get it, I don't understand why he keeps asking me to the gym. And I know it will not stop so I just have to suck it in (literally) and just go. Well fuck. I might look a fool but if I can keep it up, I'll get thin. I'm going to be so hot and sweaty, it'll be gross. Why the hell would he want to see that?

I've lost a good 6lbs since I met him because I have absolutely no appetite at all. Can't bloody eat, can't bloody sleep, can't bloody work. And that's without me trying to lose weight at all. I'm now at 118lbs, the lowest that I can remember being for a very long time. If I add the gym into that mix, well. Who knows what might happen. I want to get to 110lbs soon, and then I'm going to pick up ballet again and make a good go at going en pointe this time round. 

Trying to psych myself out by looking at celeb fitspo and thinspo. They must hard out work out to look that good. And frankly, if I go through any of the above transformations then it will all be worth it, even if he dumps me on the spot at the gym for being such an unfit slob. 

There. I said it. What I'm really afraid of. I've spent my whole life feeling like an ugly, good for nothing piece of crap. Truly believing that no man would ever want me. I spend most days feeling fat and ugly and preoccupied with using all my energy to look presentable. And now somebody has appeared to have picked me up, and not just somebody, a fucking gorgeous cop who seems to have his life sorted. He is very quickly becoming the conduit for all my greatest fears. 

I'm already scared to death that I'm too fat for him. Now I'm fucking scared I'll be too unfit for him. He's not even my boyfriend and I'm already scared that he's going to dump me for not being good enough. 

And I really don't want to lose him just yet. Just last night, when he was on duty and having his dinner break, he came to my house, picked me up, drove me to the beach where we sat in his patrol car, looking out at the city lights. And so we made out again. I'm really starting to like this whole making out thing. 

Right now it's too late to change anything. All I can do is go tomorrow and do my best. And hope that it's enough. I hate feeling so inadequate. 

my guy

"Living just to find emotion hiding somewhere in the night."

Well ladies, I did say in my last post that I would write about the first date in more detail once I calmed down a bit, but now it is becoming abundantly clear that I will never calm down and so I might as well just bite the bullet and write this post. 

I'm desperately trying to think of ways to describe my man. Firstly, I'm calling him "my man", so that at least gives some indication of where my head is at. Secondly, it's 3am, and I'm on night shift at work, so I do give myself permission to wax lyrical if I so choose. 

I should start off by saying that I have no idea what  my relationship status is right now. One date doesn't qualify as anything really. Certainly not for him. It means a lot to me, because there were a whole lot of firsts for me in that one package, but he's definitely been there, done that. So we met up at a nice beach, went for a walk along it, just chatting. He told me about his screed of ex-girlfriends, most of which scared the bejeezus out of me. I'm certainly different from the rest of them! Not sure if that's a good thing or not. 

He told me about his ambitions, and really, it was like the worse job interview ever. He kept telling me about stuff that he's good at. Well, I guess it worked because I was fucking impressed. In an odd way, I was doing the opposite. Like, I'm not that great, please don't be disappointed.  

We walked for about an hour, totally didn't realise it was for that long, and he took me to a cafe for another hour or so and a chat. And over coffee he was telling me about his house. 

"If you like, I can give you a tour." He said tentatively. And so we went back to his place. Which apparently is not normal for a first date according to most of my friends. And I guess that for my first date ever, it was a little out of the ordinary. But it felt right and I felt safe and so I went. 

He showed me around the house, showed me the renovations that he had been doing and then showed me his room. Let me say right off the bat that he owns some damn good music. So he played me some music as we sat on his bed and chatted some more. And he started getting quite touchy. I mean, when we were on our walk, he was helping me up and he'd tap me every now and then to redirect me. But in his room, he was tickling me (way too much) and sliding his hand up and down my leg. 

Come leaving time, he walked me to my car, and just as I was about to get in, he grabbed me and pulled me into him and kissed me. Out there in the bitter cold, on the road by my car. I had expected maybe a little kiss, a quick peck, or even just a peck on the cheek. After all, he does know I've never had a boyfriend before, never been kissed. 

But it wasn't like that at all. He was very gentle, just wrapped me in his arms and then I suddenly found myself in a long, passionate kiss, tongues and all. When we broke apart I was quite speechless, and just when I was about to break away, he pulls me close again, tilts my chin and we're off again. 

and an old fear rises

"While Jesus is saving I'm spending all my grace on the rosy red pallor of lights on centre stage." 

So yet again I've let this blog lapse a wee bit. Work gets to me in a weird way now. I miss boys, so, so much. Cam, I miss Cam especially. It breaks my heart to know I won't see him anytime soon. And still, I'm still spending money, the only difference is that I feel more guilty for doing it. 

I feel like I'm on the precipice of getting my life back together though. Some old way of living is creeping up inside me. Op shopping at cheap places and getting that high off a good find, putting together outfits with a lot of thought. Saving money, working out, losing weight, studying and generally progressing. I used to be that person. And there should be no reason why I can't be that person again. 

For the past few days I've been drowning myself in thinspo and fitspo. Mostly I've been feeling increasingly weak. Less fit. Walking up stairs makes me short of breath. I want to be fit again, and skinny, with a wee bit of muscle definition. 

I'm starting to give up fatty hospital lunches for a bottle of water and a piece of fruit. I'm buying fruit to have for dinner, to eat before dinner so I eat less normal food. I'm hoping, praying, please, this time, let me get this together. I need to get my life together. 

I'm going to start working out after work. Every hour counts doesn't it. It must count for something. I'm going to travel to Melbourne in a month and a half, and by that time, I want to be visibly thinner. 

I read somewhere that it takes 4 weeks for you to notice a change yourself, 8 weeks for friends and family to notice, and 12 weeks for the world to notice. I'm hoping that with some wild restricting and bumping up exercise, in 6 weeks friends and family will notice. It's been a long time since anybody noticed me. I'd love to just be noticed. 

This all must sound so very desperate, but I really miss those comments, I miss people telling me that I look thin. Of late, I've had far too many people call me fat and ugly. 

running away in a fabulous outfit

"The best things in life are free. The second best are very expensive." - Amen to that. 

Recently I've been swapping shifts like mad. Swapping all my shifts so that I'm at clinic, and not at the hospital. My registrar Cam, is on nights, and that means Joe is my registrar for the week. Well fuck that. I've somehow managed to spend the last two days in clinic, and somehow I will manage to avoid him. I feel like whenever I see him, I am overcome with a desire to spit poison at him. And I can be hideously bitter when I want to. 

I've been bitter since coming off night shifts. When I was on nights, the night registrar called me fat. We were talking about junk food and he said to me "yeah, you are a bit fat aren't you". Well. Some part of me knows he was joking and that he was just trying to push my buttons, but those words have reverberated in my head ever since. 

I’ve got a growing fascination with Alannah Hill and Temperley London. To be frank I can’t really afford either of those brands, and as of yet I have not bought anything Temperley (except my qualification gown) but I do have half a wardrobe of Alannah Hill. It’s something that I crave more and more. Styles and ways of dressing that has never really appealed to me before. More and more I am leaving the corporate, powerful, structured styles of Cue. More and more I am leaning towards the super feminine, flowing, soft and expensive. 

I think I am doing what I have always wanted to do. Mold myself into something that all men want, but none can have. With my clothes, and my conversation I am clearly pricing myself out of their league. With the way that I act, I make it clear that I do not think they are good enough for me. I’m not sure if that’s the end result I want, or if I am waiting for one guy to step up and prove that he likes me enough to push past all that. Not that I know any of them well enough to make them like me. 

In a weird way I am cutting off my nose to spite my face. I am pushing away what I want to get what I want. It is incredibly counter intuitive to say the least. And I don’t think it’s working at all. 

Now I’m going to be perfectly honest, since this is the only place where I can be that honest. Part of me doesn’t believe Joe is engaged. I know for certain he is, but since I have not heard him directly talk about Stephanie, or their wedding, or any of that, I am somehow holding out hope. I hope that he leaves her for me. Which would be a horrible mistake for him to make since I will not marry him. 

I wish I knew what it is about Joe that I like so much. I don’t get it. I wish I could just forget about him. God, I hope that I can just forget him and just behave normally around him. 

I just. I don’t know what I want anymore. I want a break. I want a rest. I want to get away from the hospital. And go somewhere by myself and think. 

This not having a boyfriend thing, it’s really getting to my head. People are starting to honestly think that I am a lesbian, which really won’t be helping my boyfriend bid. If nobody mentioned my singledom, I may not be so bothered by it. But as person after person after person expresses surprise at me being single...I always feel compelled to tell them that I have never had a boyfriend...it gets inside my head.  I start to ask the same questions. Why am I still single. Why don’t I have a boyfriend. Why. 

I got my lashes put on. And I am still fucking ugly. Only surgery will fix me now. Only facial reconstruction will make me pretty. And I’m seriously considering it. 

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. 

sliding downwards in more ways than one.

"Not enough. I need more. Nothing seems to satisfy. I said, I don't want it, I just need it to breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive."

Thanks for all the comments you've all been leaving me lately. I'm struggling at work but it will get better and things are already starting to settle down. Just a bit. And well, Mark, Mark isn't a bad guy. He really isn't. And I do need him, every doctor in this hospital needs him because we can't access certain medications without his permission. The ID registrar literally holds the key to the door of some antibiotics. I try to give him credit, it's not an easy job. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe his phone had been ringing off the hook. I don't know. I haven't seen him since that day, and that seems fine to me. 

Something has flipped inside me, flipped out completely. I haven't felt this level of anxiety for a very long time. I'm so anxious, I can't sleep, and I can't focus at work. A lot of it is because of the stress at work, and another portion of it is the weight. Today I had the biggest freak about about eating. I had a completely normal meal. It was a slightly big one, but one that was completely normal for me to eat a few times a week. 

And I felt so ill afterwards. I wanted to throw it up, I have been absolutely riddled with anxiety for several hours now. I'm so tired, I feel like my head is falling asleep but my body wants to run around widely to burn it all off. 

I'm currently caving to cravings. I've got one of my knives out and I'm just running it back and forth across my skin. I'm not cutting but just the feel of the blade against my skin is so good. Just the feel of it is relaxing me...relaxing me. GOD, I WANT TO CUT SO BADLY. But no, for now, it's enough. 

I'm so scared of meal times now. It's really odd, how fast the fear and anxiety sets in. I've started my old habits again...not sleeping at night, trying on outfit after outfit and squinting at myself in the mirror. I'm loving skipping all the meals, and I've ever had days of nothing when I've gone home after having nothing to eat and just going straight to bed. 

This week I've lost 4lbs. Not as much as I'd like. I've gone from 127lbs to 123lbs. I know that the majority of this is food that I've just pooed out. In terms of actual weight loss, it probably is only a pound, two at most. But it's a loss, and I'll take any loss. 

I look in the mirror and I see lots and lots bumps and lumps that I want to get rid of. When I look at myself I think I look fucking pregnant. And to me (and I know just about all of you will disagree) there is nothing more ugly than a pregnant woman. There is something so absolutely grotesque about a huge belly sticking out. Do when I say I look pregnant, what I am saying is that I look disgusting and repugnant. 

I look in the mirror and I can't believe how ugly I am. Fat and ugly and fat and ugly and fat and ugly. Why can't I just be ugly. 

if it hadn't been for Cotton Eyed Joe.

"Digging to the rhythm and the echo of a solitary siren, one that pushes me along and leaves me so desperate and ravenous. I'm weak and powerless."

With the safety net pulled out from beneath my feet I find myself medically managing all the orthopaedic patients. And it is so scary. These past few days I've been running on nothing at all. I don't know how I keep going. I've made a few silly mistakes as well. Today I was so hungry and nauseated and dizzy and deluded I had to ask a friend to come bail me out for an hour while I drank hot tea. I'm effectively breaking a 24 hour coffee and tea fast with a small meal each day.

Thinking of Mark makes me sick. I don't want to see him or speak to him. But I feel even more sick if I don't see him or speak to him because I don't know how to manage my patients' infections without him. And that thought scares me more than I dare to admit. So I call him every ten minutes until he answers his phone, and I run after him on the wards. 

Tell me what to do Mark. I don't know if this man will live without your advice. I know I'm asking dumb questions, I know I'm pissing you off, I know you want my bosses to do things that I can't get them to do. I'm only a little junior doctor and I'm doing my best, even if you don't think it's enough. I'm doing all I can. Tell me off as much as you want, if you've had a bad day, take it all out on me. Take it out on me, let it all out. All the bad things my bosses have done to you, all the unreasonable demands that they make, all the annoying patients, all the other doctors, all of us that won't leave you alone. Say what you like to me, but don't make my patients pay for my incompetences when you can cover the holes I'm leaving. 

So I say sorry over and over again, apologising for mistakes that aren't even mine. And I say thank you, over and over, and I tell him how unfair it is for him, how difficult it must be for him, and how much I appreciate him. And I eventually get what I need. Bloody long phone calls for the one sentence answer that I need. 

I'm stretched so thin. So thin. When people don't answer your calls for help, what do you do? How much longer can I battle on myself? 

But I get it done. I don't care. I don't care who I have to call, I spend all day ringing if I have to. At the end of the day, my patients are prepped for theatre, they're stable after theatre, they're discharged with a solid plan. I might be dying, but they're not. I'm so tired. I can't sleep at night. 

If it wasn't for Joe I'd be crying in the cupboards by now. He might call me every ten minutes with new jobs, he might pull me with him to see patients, but it's only because he trusts me. He's the first person in 3 months to acknowledge how hard I'm working. It makes me want to curl up cry on his shoulder because until he pointed it out, I hadn't realised how much I'd done. Until he said thank you, I didn't realise I was doing anything worthy of thanks. Such a small gesture, but it's made everything feel justified. 

If this isn't trial by fire, I don't know what is. 

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.