- Do you like your hair? Well say goodbye to that. You’ll be lucky to grow straw, that is, before it starts falling out. So cherish it before it’s gone!
- Oh, you have pretty, strong, clear nails? Well au revoir, you want to be ~skinny~, don’t ya? Say hello to the yellow, grooved claws of an 80 year…
Friday March 16, 2012 4:57 PM
Grandfather weighed me today. 101.5 pounds. Mother made me drink a large coke from McDonalds.
March 6, 2012 8:03 PM
Broke down to my mother on Friday night. Basically she knows. How couldn’t she? She’s watching her daughter slowly die, slowly commit suicide, right in front of her. Never said anything, but the tears told it all.
I still have urges. I so desperately want to tell somebody, ANYBODY, and see them care. But I can’t, I just can’t. I guess I’ll just have go continue to hold it all in. Wait for it to either go away or wait for it all to destroy me.
February 28, 2012 9:03 PM
I now feel completely and utterly hopeless. I caught myself looking at a thinspo account, and am now currently following it. I feel as if I’ll never get better.
And I have a huge exam I must prepare to take soon. How in the hell am I going to take it if I’m starving and constantly thinking about food and how I’m going to get thinner and thinner.
Fuck this. Fuck it all. Might as well tie me up in a straight jacket and hook me up to hospital machines.
February 28, 2012 8:42 PM
The urge to slip back into old habits is still so great. I want to feel the hunger, the unbearable feeling of my insides eating away at each other. I want to see my stomach sink beneath hip level, have my collar bones jut out.
And I do know all this is wrong. I’m scared. Of everything. Once again. I was earlier debating whether or not to include after school snacks into my diet, and I can’t come up with the answer. I want to say yes, because I usually get stark-raving hungry one to two hours before dinner is served. Yet I want to say no, because of the calorie intake.
And now I’m feeling oh so guilty about having desserts every night. Either a slice of homemade lemon cake or a slice of red velvet cake with cream cheese made by my grandmother (it has the consistency of a chewy brownie, making it even better). I’m starting to feel mentally ill again.
I want to tell my mom I need help, crave it, desire it. But I just can’t bring myself to do so. I’m too afraid to make her feel as if she’s failed as a parent. And also afraid to just ask.
And to make it even worse, I will be forced to have a snack when I return from school, as I am attending a forced four-hour driving class I have to take before my driving test. I won’t return until 7:30 PM, meaning I won’t be able to have supper until then. And mom told me I must have a snack before going.
And to top it ALL off, my dog magically lost eleven pounds due to tape worms. Mom is now treating him as if he’s the most emaciated thing she has ever seen. Great. My own dog is skinnier than me.
I never thought this would turn into an anorexic-journal-blog thing; I thought it’d be all my thoughts about my day and just whatever I was thinking. Oh well, need someplace to go and rant to, some place else besides the deepest parts of me to tell what’s going on in that mind of mine controlled by the demon named Ana.
February 27, 2012 9:15 PM
The urge to look up thinspos, pictures of ribs, hips, collar bones is so great. I’m currently trying to distract myself by looking at pictures of owls and listening to Usher. I thought I had all this under control.
February 27, 2012 9:06 PM
Feeling oh so guilty about that piece of lemon cake I had earlier. Trying to keep anorexic thoughts out of my head, not thinking that fat is bubbling up on top of my stomach. Trying to resist the urge to look through scores of photographs of skinny girls, only knowing what that would do to me.
Breathe in, breathe out.
February 23, 2012 5:36 PM
This is quite odd actually, yet I’m so happy I feel as if I must share it.
After watching Glee on Tuesday night, it was as if suddenly all fears and worries went away. To sum it all up, the message was “Life is too short. Just live your life.” And yes, I know this message has been broadcasted everywhere since the beginning of my teenage years, and hearing them never really had an impact on me, until now. So weird, how a show like Glee (which I absolutely adore by the way) could do something like this for me.
And I’m so proud. It’s almost completely stopped my OCD thoughts and habits. It’s almost completely stopped my anorexic thoughts and habits. Of course I can’t give all the credit to Glee. I’ve been praying to God and Jesus to liberate me, and they’ve helped me become what I am feeling right now. I constantly thank them whenever I am feeling high on this proud-worry free-like feeling.
I haven’t been worrying about my homework schedule. I haven’t been worrying about my after school schedule, looking decent for school, food, calories! (First time I’ve ever used an exclamation point in any entry). I ate cereal and milk on Wednesday without measuring it. I had a dessert last night of red velvet cake. I had a sucker during algebra today. I had pretzels with my lunch. Little things like this are making me just immensely happy. So happy I’m typing down thoughts that hardly make sense.
And guess what? Tomorrow night, I’m having my first fast food meal in weeks, maybe months. A cape cod fish sandwich from Wendy’s, French fries, and a Coke. First time I’ve had fast food, fries, or any kind of soda this year. Last time I ate a fast food meal (cheeseburger, fries, and a coke from Steak n Shake, only fast food chain burgers I actually enjoy) was in October. And guess what’s even better? I’m OKAY with this. I’m excited and proud all at the same time. I mean, of course I’m not going to start eating at fast food joints every night now. Hell no. I prefer a home-cooked meal over fast food any day. But when my mom mentioned it to me this afternoon, I was okay with it, happy, and excited.
I’m getting better. And it’s all thanks to God and Jesus. And a little bit of Glee. But mostly God. Thank you Lord!
February 19, 2012 9:11 PM
Sitting on my iPod, feeling guilty about eating that slice of lemon cake, the slice my mother cut much too thick. I’m scrolling through endlessly at pro-ana blogs, scared as shit about everything. Something inside me wants to get better, wants to look attractive for once. Yet another part of me is telling me to starve, starve, starve. And surprisingly, I want to feel that emptiness.
This morning, as I lay awake, everyone else in my house silent with sleep, I lay in my bed, fondling my ribs, hips, collar bones, shoulder blades.
Someone please help me. Someone please hold me.
February 18, 6:29 PM
I HATE HIM. I FUCKING HATE THAT FILTHY CHEAP DISGUSTING AWFUL BASTARD. I HATE HIM.
For the first time in weeks, I want to make myself throw up my food. This used to happen a lot when I was deeper in my relapse; whenever I was angry, the first thing I wanted to do was make myself starve, throw up whatever food I had inside me. I wanted to feel emptiness. I tried a couple times, yet failed.
I’m so cold.
