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 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
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.