Log in

No account? Create an account
angel of destruction // the things we do to the people that we love [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

[ website | angel of destruction // a journal ]
[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

(no subject) [Apr. 11th, 2004|06:13 pm]
This is not even fucking cool. I'm trying to get ready for tonight's Easter service (I'm not Catholic but I'm going with my mom) and I literally can't leave the house because I have no pants to wear. This isn't just an "oh my gosh I have nothing to wear," this is me almost in tears because I refuse to wear anything that's a size 5 out of the house and everything that's a 3 or 1 looks funny on me (or is dirty).

I'm so insecure about this shit and I hate it. I won't wear anything that's not flared because my thighs look huge - oh wait, my thighs ARE huge! So once we've eliminated those, I've got about fifteen pairs (most of which used to be my friends ... I only have like four pairs of pants that I really wear/have paid for). Cut out anything that's above a size 3 ... this includes my size 26 Luckys, even though they look fine and a 26 is equal to a size 2 ... and get rid of any stretch jeans 'cause I look horrible in stretch jeans. After that, there's eight or nine pairs left ... four of them are from freshman year and I can't button them, three of them are dirty, and the two remaining are way too short to wear with anything but flip-flops, not to mention they're both really tight in the waist and they push my rolls up. God damn it. I seriously can't fucking deal with this.

Today is just a bad fucking day, one of the days when I can barely bring myself to look in the mirror without wanting to cut off every inch of fat that's on my body. I wish there was something I could do to make this shit better. Not even fucking cool.
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Apr. 9th, 2004|01:40 am]
I don't understand why I want to make myself disappear so badly and yet I can't bring myself to do anything about it. I could blame it on the munchies, I could blame it on stress, but really, there's no one or nothing to blame but myself. I got up to 112 recently, which really made me mad - I'm back to 109 or so these days but that's still no comfort. Back in December, I had it all planned out - I was going to healthily lose six pounds a month and be 87 by my birthday. Yet somehow, here I am, still a size three and hating myself for it every day. Does that make any sense?

I measured myself again today and everything is still pretty much the same. I sucked my stomach in til it hurt and pulled the tape measure tight enough around my waist that I'm surprised I didn't cut myself in half; after all that effort my waist is still 22 and a half inches when sucking in, and that's not good enough. Nothing is going to be good enough when I weigh 109. I never want the scale to read over 105 no matter how heavy of shoes or how many layers of clothing I have on. I hate myself for being fat, and I hate myself for thinking I'm fat when I'm honestly not.

And it's an obsession. Some days I can deal with the fact that my size 25 Lucky jeans are extremely tight and some days I'll be so overcome with insecurities that I can't look in the mirror without wanting to punch it in, even though those same jeans are falling off. Nothing seems good enough for me right now. A lot of things in my life are turning to shit and I'm letting my self-control go along with them; this is completely the wrong way to go about things and the layer of fat on my stomach makes life that much worse. I'm telling you, skinny doesn't equal happy but I'd be a whole hell of a lot more pleased if I could finally wear size 1 or 0 jeans, if I could finally wear two-piece swimsuits without wanting to give myself liposuction, if I could finally walk around in public without sucking in my stomach until my face contorts with the effort it takes to hold it that tightly even for a few seconds.

No one around me understands how hard it really is to despise yourself and to doubt yourself so much that you literally can't face your own reflection. That in itself takes an incredible amount of self-control ... facing constant psychological pain and taking the extra effort to mask it and make sure everyone believes you're okay. I'm seeing three different counselors and yet I'm lying to every one of them - telling them I don't have substance abuse issues, telling them I've never had a problem with my body and if anything, I need to gain five pounds. Right. I hate my fucking body. I hate this fucking life but it would be so much easier if I were smaller - if I could use that sleek beautiful figure to distract people from all my problems - if I could hide in the corner that much easier. I wish it were as easy as just thinking about it ... I wish I could will myself down to eighty-two pounds and make the scale still say 108 around everyone else; I'd be laughing inside all the time and I'd be a hell of a lot happier because not only would I be fooling everyone but I'd be prettier than every other girl in the room. Damn these foolish dreams and the mind that keeps them all alive; damn this voice inside that tells me I'll never be happy until my weight drops into double-digit figures. I'd do anything to make this go away but the only control I have is to lose weight and hope I'll find happiness somewhere between chubby now and forty-six pounds of nonexistence. All I want is to be happy...
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Mar. 27th, 2004|12:46 pm]
I'm still working on updating this thing more often...

The past few weeks have been pretty stressful but I've been managing to do all right. I haven't worked out in a while, but with the exception of food I've eaten while high, I've been doing well. Granted, I'm high almost every day, but that's not the point. I'm still maintaining around 107-108 and everyone keeps commenting on how skinny I am. Personally, I don't see a difference over the past couple of weeks, but everyone's entitled to their own opinions, I suppose. I went to the mall yesterday and tried on a bunch of size 24 Lucky Brand jeans - and guess what? Not a single pair fit. My 25s are a little baggy on me but I couldn't even button the 24s and honestly, I had trouble buttoning one pair in a 25. Needless to say, I didn't get a pair of jeans. It was really depressing too because it just goes to show that all of my efforts so far pretty much amount to nothing. I really need to get back on track - start taking Hydroxycut again, start eating less/more healthily, start fucking WORKING OUT.

Anyway, since tonight is prom, I figured I'd humor myself and take measurements. They are as follows-

thighs: 19 inches
hips: 33 inches (yay!)
waist: 23 inches sucking in, 24 inches just standing there (hell yes)
chest: 35 inches (I measured right this time)

Overall that's not too bad ... compare to my ultimate goal"
thighs: 17 inches
hips: 33 inches
waist: 21/22 inches
chest: 36 inches

So yeah ... the chest thing isn't possible without getting pecs or perhaps breast implants - damn, I miss my 36C. I'm not sure how possible the thighs or waist are either - I want to be able to wear a 00 in Abercrombie, and I'm telling you - if I still wear a 2 with a 23 inch waist, I'll have to get down to a 21. I don't know if that's humanly possible, but then again, only a year ago my waist was somewhere in the vicinity of a 26 or 27. So I guess we'll see. The only thing I'm concerned about is what if I'm never able to wear really small pants because of my hips or ass - would I keep trying or would I let everything go to shit or what? But now's not the time for questions - I have to go take a shower and start getting ready for prom. So yeah, I'll try to update ASAP.
link1 comment|post comment

(no subject) [Mar. 4th, 2004|12:30 am]
I need to keep updating, dammit! Life has been so stressful lately - if it were up to me I'd throw in the towel on everything, drop out and become a recluse and spend my day writing depressing poems. Unfortunately, I can't do that, so I'm dealing as best I can. My weight has pretty much stablized at 107 or 108, which is disgusting in my opinion, but my waist is still around a 24 so I suppose I can live. The only thing I've eaten in the past 24 hours is cookie dough, which I purged, so I'm doing pretty well - I'm sliding back into the anorexic part of my cycle, and for the next week or two I'll probably be losing pretty rapidly - hopefully down to 100. I've started to think that maybe 95 would be okay because as it is I'm losing my boobs and my ass and I miss them - I don't know if a 22 inch waist is all that great if you have a freakin' AA cup ... I'm a 36B still but that's not the point. I'm just trying to find something that makes me happy. Right now I'm remembering what it's like to have people make fun of me for being so tiny, and to have people wrap their arms completely around me and comment that they might just break me. I'm rediscovering a miniature waist and my bottom ribs ... I mean I'm getting happy, pound by pound.

My high weight is 121 pounds at 5'1". I know that's not a big deal - it's average, and yeah I still wore a size 5 or so. But I feel like growing an inch and losing fifteen pounds over the past year or two has done a lot for me. I feel prettier, more confident. I can fall asleep at night without trying to focus on something besides the rolls of fat around me. It wasn't that bad but I've realized that I honestly needed to lose the fifteen pounds. I think America tends to encourage people that it's okay to be a little overweight but it's not, I don't think it is anyway. I'd rather be a little too skinny than a little too fat ... I truly think it's healthier. At 5'1" and 121 I wasn't unhealthy but I was out of shape and I had gotten to 121 by overeating due to depression. So the weight was kinda my protection from everything. Now that I'm down to 107 or so, I've learned to cope with a lot of things better. I don't drink as much or as often, I can think about my dad and his alcoholism/eventual death without being upset, I dumped my asshole of a boyfriend and am letting myself fall for a girl I really care about without wondering if other people will be okay with it. I spend more time thinking about what I want to do than how fat I look in something. I fit into my freshman year prom dress. I can play strip poker without noticing rolls when I sit. I can get away with trying on girls clothes. I don't have to suck in all the time when I'm walking through the halls. I'm not embarassed to be me anymore - fifteen pounds has made all the difference. I feel infinitely prettier and better as a person as well. It's funny because I know without my eating disorder I couldn't have done it, and yet I still hate having an eating disorder. It's so bad for me but I need it, it helps me, I swear. And it's probably bad to assume that by the time I hit 95, the rest of my problems will be gone, but I'm gonna believe it, because it's the only thing that keeps me going.

Anyway, fat kid is off to bed before she eats (and before she finishes her English homework, but fuck English class...) so I'll try to update again soon. <3
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Feb. 25th, 2004|10:56 pm]
111 this morning. Fuck me up the ass. I feel like the biggest cow to have ever walked the face of the earth. 111 means I can actually comment around other people about how I need to lose five pounds, 111 means I can't wear my tight size 3 jeans anymore. 111 means I need to either get liposuction or get my ass in shape ... holy cow I still can't believe it. Figured I'd update anyway...
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Feb. 22nd, 2004|04:44 pm]
I feel like I fucked up so badly last night. I ate two slices of pizza, four cheesy Domino's Dots and two cinna-stix ... I know it's not that much, especially if you consider the fact that the only meal I ate besides that was lunch, but I feel like it was. I sure fucking felt like it last night! I think if Mike's toilet had been working (we had to pee outside last night, lol) I would have ended up purging it but as it goes, I didn't. Micah's glad about that though. She's the only person I've really told about my eating disorder - my boyfriend knows I've thrown up before but I told him it was only a few times... but yeah, Micah's always tried to help me get away from thinking I need to lose weight, or at least to stop purging. We had a conversation about it last night actually, it wasn't that intelligent because we were both really high and drunk but we were sitting in her car and I was just bitching about how much I had eaten and she's like "Don't you dare throw it up." I was like "first of all, the bathroom doesn't work, so you don't need to worry about it," and she goes, "I just wish you didn't feel like you had to do it. Bulimia is so fucking hard on your body and you're one of my best friends..." I know where she's coming from but I don't know what to tell her. I can't make it stop - I can make the behaviors stop but not the mindset, and sometimes I swear I'd go literally insane if I didn't have the freedom to purge or starve whenever I wanted. I'm trying to lose weight healthily at least, that's gotta count for something. I just don't know how it will work when I keep fucking up.
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Feb. 21st, 2004|07:59 pm]
I was shocked in the shower today ... my boobs are shrinking! I've heard from so many people that your chest is the first place you lose weight from, but I always thought since I was a C cup, I'd be all right. But that's not how it's been working. I'm maintaining around 107 pounds but my boobs are almost down to an A cup and my ass is shrinking as well. Fortunately, my waist is a little under 24 inches and my thighs are still right around 19, so at least I know it's possible to lose inches from other parts of my body. I guess I'm just going to have to get used to being the skinny girl as opposed to the curvaceous girl I used to be. For as long as I've wanted to lose weight, I've wanted to lose it proportionally, because I've had boobs since like, age eight; however, I'm beginning to see a major problem in my theory.

As much as it makes me mad though, I kinda like the attention. People lately have been telling me I look really skinny, I'm able to wear a size 12 in girls, and Chris today actually told me I looked almost anorexic. My hips stick out noticably even in a pair of jeans and my collarbone is a lot more defined - everyone around me is in envy of my figure and all I can think is that I've still got at least ten pounds to go. The inches may be coming off, but the pounds haven't yet, and they need to. So, like always, I guess we'll see how this goes...
linkpost comment

at the end of this tunnel of guilt and shame there must be a light of some kind [Feb. 20th, 2004|04:45 pm]
I just purged until the scale read that I was three pounds lighter; for those of you who have never made yourself throw up, just know that it took an incredible amount of effort, considering I didn't consume more than 1200 calories in my "binge." Sometimes it amazes me how much of myself I put into this disorder. When it comes to relationships or school, I rarely ever try - when it comes to my eating habits, I put every ounce of strength that I have into achieving my goals. And yet I never quite get there - I wonder about that, too. I wonder how much control I really have, I wonder how I can justify the emotional relief to be worth the harm I'm doing to my body, I wonder if I'll ever find a way to get rid of this addiction. And you know the craziest part? Sometimes I wish I were purely anorexic so I could lose all the weight I want to and get really sick and have people see that I need help. I do, I really do, but I'll never admit it to myself; as long as I feel like I'm failing at achieving my goals, I'm not sick enough. Right?
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Feb. 18th, 2004|05:55 pm]
Here I stand, no better than before - I've purged at least ten times in the past week and my weight is no longer going down. I'm still only at 106, which is good - I haven't really gained, and I honestly haven't been eating *that* much (1500 calories a day is my guess) but the point is that I'm losing control again. This is all about control and yet I'm stuck in a cycle: restrict, then purge what I eat, then binge&purge, then binge, then restrict again. It's awful and I know it's not normal in the slightest but I'm fucking stuck.

Lately I've been wondering why I do this to myself. I wonder why I don't see food the way everyone else does, I wonder why I feel like I need this. I remember being nine years old and sitting in my kitchen making a list of low-calorie foods that I could eat ... learning to like salads ... learning to dislike chocolate and fast food ... running with my mom ... I wonder what I do this for. I've never been the type to take care of other people and neglect myself, I've never been a total perfectionist, I've never been really abused in any way that I can remember, and yet there's this awful disorder hanging over my head. I don't blame the media, I don't blame my friends or family, I don't blame anyone. But until I find the reason why, I don't think I'll ever be able to completely recover, nor am I sure I want to. I don't cut anymore, I can handle my alcohol and drug use - I mean, really, do I want to see what other problems I can develop? If I was tramatized in my younger years, at least I'm currently coping with it by doing something I can handle to some extent. I can live with it anyway, and sometimes it comes down to bare, simple survival. I just wish I knew why I do this, because I feel like it's getting me nowhere.
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Feb. 6th, 2004|10:43 pm]
So you want an inside look on what this life is like? You think it's glamorous, you think I like any of this? Look again.

Right now I'm debating over whether or not to have a bowl of ice cream. My mom went to the trouble to buy it for me because I'm sick but I can't figure out if I should let myself eat it or not. The way I see it, I have three options. Eat it and purge it, eat it and don't purge it, or don't eat it at all. It's pathetic how much effort I'm putting into thinking about the consumption of 500 calories. The options are simple enough but I don't know if I want to use the fact that I'm sick as an excuse not to eat or if I want to use the fact that I'm sick to justify having the bowl of ice cream to myself. Then there's what would happen if I did eat it - would it be worth purging? Ice cream is incredibly easy to purge, but would that be worth it because I'm sick and it might counteract whatever healing my body's doing (not like that stopped me four hours ago, but still). Eating ice cream is usually an excuse for me to purge but I don't want to fall back into the trap of bulimia but I want the ice cream but I don't want the calories but the only way is to purge but I can't do it and I can't not do it and I can't not eat...

See? This is pathetic. There's no glamour anywhere. No sparkle in my eye, no silver desire for attention, no gorgeous burning passion behind any of it. My eating disorder is a survival tactic to me; I can't live with it, not really, but there's no way I could do without it. I hate it; this is what I want you to see.
linkpost comment

[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]