Monthly Archives: August 2007

99 lbs.


Sorry I haven’t commented at all, I’ve been so busy trying to pack for moving to Sussex. I can’t believe I’m not going to be a Londoner anymore – no longer am I going to be woken up to the sound of drunk people and trains, but sheep and tractors! I am really excited though, we have 23 acres of land, a swimming pool and stables so I’m going to be getting a lot of exercise, maybe even increase my calories a little bit. But I’ll try and find the time to comment later.


I haven’t eaten since Tuesday. I’m meeting Sophie and Harriet for a drink tonight (but I’m not drinking – I refuse to consume empty calories these days) so I’m going to eat a bowl of spaghetti hoops (109 cals) before I go, so I don’t fucking pass out.


Bikini shot. Look at my ASS, oh my god I wish I realised those bikini bottoms were too small before I went out in public, I feel sorry for everyone who had to bloody witness that. Thankfully I’ve lost 3 pounds since then –


I need to break up with Jamie, I know I need to. I have taken the same crap off him since Janurary and its just gone on too long now. Like today, for example, I was supposed to stay with him tonight seeing as my mum wants me out of the house for the movers coming over to mine tomorrow. But no, he turns his phone off, takes the ringer off his house phone and won’t reply to any of my e-mails. And this isn’t the first time, I hate the way he acts but I just can’t stay mad at him because I love him.

He must find it fucking hilarious.


98 lbs. BMI = 16.8

I ate four spoonfuls of spaghetti hoops but then I got freaked out.

I ate an apple instead.

I didn’t even meet Sophie and Harriet in the end. This hunger traps me, I’m too weak to go out, too scared that I’ll drink, too consumed by the constant counting of calories buzzing in my head to hold a decent conversation with anyone who doesn’t share my obsession.

I’m not in control at all. I’m a prisoner.



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 We got upgraded to first class on the way back! That was probably the highlight of my holiday, thats not a good sign, is it? Anyway I felt like I was going to pass out whilst we were at the airport, and I was kind of scared about flying whilst feeling so weak and fragile, so I of course ate a shitload. I got home and weighed myself six hours later on my accurate scale:

100 lbs.

100 is usually my lowest weight that I never reach unless I restrict for days and days, so if I’m at it after eating huge amounts, does that mean I actually lost weight? Canada was meant to be a last ditch attempt at recovery on my own


I failed and it feels so good.

This photo makes me so proud, I seriously sacrificed my dignity for that

canada 124

I’ve decided I’m going to study journalism at university, why aim for ‘exciting’ careers when I know what I’m good at? I can get an A without work in English; and I don’t like failing, I don’t want to set myself up for more disappointments in the future. And plus, I love writing; I can’t believe I went through all these wacky, ridiculous job ideas and never thought of it before.


NINETY-NINE POUNDS. For real this time, I didn’t trust my grandma’s dodgy scale in Canada. Double digits, an all time low.

I’m now into my 24th hour of my fast, I’ve had two hours sleep in the past 48 hours as well, so I’m even impressing myself.


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I decided to start the 2-4-6-8 diet today. I was supposed to have 1 bowl of roasted red pepper and tomato soup (120 cals) and a small salad with low calorie salad dressing (40 cals). I ate half the bowl of soup but my mind kept going back to last night’s binge, I couldn’t bear the guilt so I didn’t eat the rest. I can’t even do this right.

So I’ve set myself meal plans for the next four days, following this diet. I don’t have to eat it all if I don’t want to though, because the 800 cal day does look like a lot of food.

We went to a friend’s house for dinner today. I joined them late, lied, and said i’d eaten before I came. (Does 7 mouthfuls of soup count?) Sitting at a table with all of them chewing and making disgusting eating noises in front of me made me feel like I was going to vomit and I couldn’t breathe. Then it came. I had to go to the toilet and I cried my eyes out for ten minutes; I don’t even know why.

I think I’m going crazy.

I’ve had 1 cup of blueberry green tea and half (maybe less) a bowl of soup today. Overall intale:

70 cals.

I don’t feel any better.

When I look in the mirror, my legs look like tree trunks. The weird thing is, I can see that there is a gap between them. A pretty big gap, no matter how far I lean back and whatever position I am in, there is still a gap, why do they still look so fucking huge? I wish I could see reality.


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First came compromise

Then came the binge

Now I’m in tears.

The End.

So I’ve been looking this up. I severely restrict, binge, severely restrict, binge again. Is this non-purging type bulimia? Before even start considering help, I want to work out what the fuck is wrong with me.


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Bored. I have never had to spend so much time with my family before and it is SERIOUSLY starting to grate on me. I spoke to Jamie earlier – it just made me realise I miss him, even if he is a prick who doesn’t treat me right.

He’s so hot.

(Ok not the best picture but trust me – he is hot. And the facial hair is of course fake. He had a lot of fun with that moustache.)

Anyway, today’s intake:

2 cups of blueberry green tea – 20 cals
1 bowl of celery and cucumber with a tsp of rice vinegar – about 15 cals
1 cup of vegetable broth – 15 cals

Overall intake: 50 cals.

Starting to feel nice and empty again. I’ve decided I’m going to treat myself with a bowl of frosties (my weakness) in two days. I’m such a loser, I’m actually excited. 180 calories – its so worth it, I just won’t eat dinner.

I need a fucking hobby.

I love this photo. It was taken in the early hours of the morning during one of my parties I had in my wonderfully free house at Easter. Having a parent-less house was so great – I didn’t eat for a week, I wasn’t forced a chocolate egg or anything. Hence the smile:



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I had to break my liquid fast because I was forced to go out for a meal. I ordered a Thai noodle salad but didn’t eat any of the noodles, so I basically ate lettuce and tomato with a bit of sweet chili dressing, probably about 150 calories with the dressing. Including 2 cups of blueberry green tea and a cup of tea with sweetener and a dash of 2% milk, I’d say my overall intake was about 200 calories.

When we were in the restaurant I almost had an anxiety attack. We were waiting for the food to come and the thought of having to eat, let alone in a public room, made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

I really, really don’t want to be like this. It makes me miserable. But when I consider eating properly, I feel sick.

I’ll feel miserable either way; I’d rather stay empty and slim.

As soon as I start eating; I don’t just lose control of my intake, I lose control of everything. Thats how it feels, I suddenly become this fat, horrible, bloated lazy person who just wants to lie down and eat and eat until I can’t physically fit anything else down my throat. Its disgusting.

I just want to be a child again. Carefree, with my dad, ignorance was bliss. I feel like I’m getting there, eating child-sized portions, my body is slowly shrinking back to a sexless shape. My last period was so light – just like my first one when I was 11. I want to keep getting younger and smaller until I don’t exist again.


I got scared that I’d binge later on, because I just discovered peanut butter in the kitchen (a personal addiction) so I just ate half a banana and 6 strawberries to fill myself up.

Should as I feel as guilty and disgusting as I do?


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I woke up feeling fat and disgusting.

So I decided to start a liquid fast. Over 24 hours into it, I’m just going to keep going until, well, I don’t want to anymore.

I made a bargain with my mum, I’ll be sweet to her friends if she doesn’t make me eat the dinner with them. Thats how much she cares about other people’s perceptions – it was a deal.

Me and my partner in crime, Jason. This photo makes me smile, but it makes me sad. I tried to kill myself a week after it was taken.

Not a natural poet, but I try-

You broke your promise, you told a lie
Said when things get sour you’d be at my side
But I don’t need you now; I have a new ally
Its more of a feeling, it gets me high.
It tears up my flesh and eats me inside
Screams through my head, its my turn to lie.

It gives me strength when I need to be stronger
Always there, it’s name is hunger
When my heart feels empty, it fills me up well
With oxygen, water and secrets I can’t tell.
And as I’m shrinking, it gets bigger and louder
I’m still crying, but I can’t and won’t taste the sour
It feeds on my sadness, it lives for my bones
I can’t stop it buzzing; it hums and it drones.

And I’ll never be able to stray the way I let you
Because it clings on so tight that my hands turn blue
And my womanhood fades, finally childlike again
Until I’m fully inverted
And I can’t feel the pain.


I just found out my A Level Results. I got an A in English. As for Music and French – well lets just say I am as fucking stupid as I think I am.

I don’t think I’m ever going to eat again. I’d rather just shrink and starve until I waste away and don’t have to deal with reality. I’ll never be quite ready for it.

Why can’t I just be fucking normal and deal with it?

I constantly feel like I’m walking into a wall, going nowhere. I do nothing. I’m the most selfish bitch you’ll ever meet. I’m not clever, I’m not interesting, I’m a waste of fucking space.

I need to know how much I weigh. This is killing me. On Friday it was 97 or 98 lbs. The only thing that could make me feel better right now is to see evidence of weightloss.


I’m that desperate. I’m that superficial. I’m that pathetic.

I’m this sick.


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