Illness.

I don't know what it is. It's as though my body is rebelling against forced recovery. Which is awesome and all that - but I'd really rather be getting somewhere instead of sick.


After doing some research, however,I'm worried about my gall bladder. Apparently I have most of the signs of it being kind of seriously infected, minus serious stomach cramps...Which means doctors again. You know, I completely forgot that that think even existed, and now I'm finding out that it might be the source of my discomfort.


To elaborate: No matter what I eat, whether it's as simple as a salad, or an actual meal with lean meat, a vegetable and the tiniest bit of bread. Even if I eat a slice of apple, I immediately feel ill. Nauseous, with unexplained pain between my shoulderblades...Dizzy, headached, among many other things. I hope to god I'm just being a hypochrondiac, and there's nothing really wrong with that.


However...

Current Stats:
Weight: 157lb
Height: 5'4"
Waist: 34"
Hips: 40"
Pants size: 10 (What?)

Ugh. Why can't my inability to eat properly be helping me?

Black Lipstick.

Regarding my last post, it's gotten worse.

Halloween is the one time of year I'm usually happy. Carefree, even. Well, I had the bright idea to invite the ex-boyfriend out with me and another friend. I'm sure you can guess how THAT went.

Within thirty minutes, he was talking about a cute girl he knows who just drove him WILD by wearing black lipstick. (In case you missed that, he thinks "goth chicks" are hot, in his words.)

While I'm sitting in front of him, beside my friend, wearing black lipstick for Halloween.

Thanks. Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH. None of this would be an issue if I was cute. If I was pretty. If I wasn't disgusting.

A double-edge, it seems. Damaged my self-esteem...a lot...but fucked with my mind enough to give me the resolve to...wait for it...

Not bother with any kind of food for the entire week. All I have to do is think about what he said and how he said it...and everything becomes nauseating. I couldn't even finish half of a chai tea latte, thinking about it. Sigh.. I wish it didn't come to me wanting to slit my wrists or hang myself to find this kind of resolve.

A losing battle.

There's no other way I can put it. I'm fighting a losing battle. For once, this has very little to do with my weight.


I haven't posted in a while, here or in the chronicles. I've barely had access to the internet. I've barely had access to my sanity and to my life.


Couple weeks ago, I overdosed on sleeping pills. I didn't want to wake up. Even now I'm having a hard time finding the point to all of this. This stupid life. Every time I talk to someone, all I hear is "It's not that bad", or I get blown off and told about their "sucky life". "Oh, how horrible, six guys like me at once, I don't know what to do. Only two are cute."
That's nice. I can't even get groceries for my father and I can't afford my medication, I'm taking pills that are probably six months to a year old and trying to ration out everything, even my water. (Which makes no sense...that much is free to me.) I'm a goddamn wreck lately. I'm in constant pain, emotional and physical, to the point that the emotional pain is becoming physical pain.


My chest has been hurting for days. Over a week. Other than pain, I can't feel anything. I can hardly feel the keyboard under my fingers or the chair under my ass.


I don't know what to do at this point. You know I've been purposely fucking my piercings up so I can say, "Whoops, I slipped, look at the pretty blood..."

Impromptu fast.

So let's look at that intake today. Max was 400, right? I ate...

NOTHING.

When I'm upset, my stomach knots up, and I can't eat a damn thing...Good news for my diet, bad news for my skin and well-being.

The boyfriend is gone, due to extenuating circumstances, and I'm all alone again. ...I'm not mad at him though. I'm more upset with myself. Maybe if I was prettier, more understanding, thinner, and just all around better, this wouldn't have happened...And he would have found a way to make it work with me...But.. I'm not. It was amazing while it lasted.

But everything he'd done for my self-esteem and self-love was undone in the course of ten minutes. This is what I get for believing in myself, believing I can do anything other than starve, draw and write. I know I'm being hard on myself but..I'm just so used to being the one to blame in a relationship. So used to thinking I can't do anything right, and that it's my fault no matter what.
First boyfriend: I was ugly so he got a second one. My fault.
Second boyfriend: I wouldn't put out so I got raped. My fault.
Third one:  I was stupid so he hit me. My fault.
Fourth one: I was scared, so he tried to "help" me by nearly raping me. My fault.
And the fifth one? He won't let me blame myself. He told me I can't be at fault this time. This would be so much easier if he was like everyone else...If he wasn't the best guy and the only real man I've ever been with. If I didn't care for him out of respect, affection, and what may be love, instead of fear. It'd be so much easier if I could just hate him.

But nope.

Anyway. I'm done boring you with all that junk. I still ate nothing today. And I'm going to bed soon after I drink at least 32oz of water. Tomorrow I have a cranberry Arizona tea. I doubt I'll be able to eat tomorrow either.

Going out solves everything.

So what's the first thing I wake up to? Why, my boyfriend cancelling on me for the event I was going with him to today. I still went, but I didn't get the joy of seeing him, or seeing him wig out over the little things that I love to watch him wig out over. (Which is a lot of things.)

So after about an hour and a half of off and on crying, I put my makeup on, telling myself, "Once the mascara hits the eyelashes, no more damn waterworks!" Like magic, it all stopped, and I was just kinda...blah...instead of weepy and distraught. Like I'd taken Xanax or something. (Which I hadn't.)

Anyway. The evening went off nicely. The director even presented me with an award - AND HE GOT MY NAME RIGHT! That alone was enough to make the whole night worth dealing with five inch heels and looking at my friend Barbara (Who is so beautiful it hurts my pride every time I look at her).


I had no money in my pocket, which as a rule means no food. To drink this evening, I enjoyed two glasses of ice water that was oddly tasty, and some stolen nibbles from my neighbor's finished plate. (See, I'm weird. I like to nibble at leftovers, it FEELS like I'm eating a lot, when there's barely anything there, because I take such tiny bites that it takes me twice as long to eat.) I totaled it all out to be...


Drumroll...


527 calories!

(: And this is before running around like mad in the arcade part, in five inch heels, trying to keep up with someone that didn't understand I was wearing heels and am not adept in walking in them. And all the games I failed at. And crunches at home, and more walking. Aaahhh, I feel good!

Tomorrow, the max amount for me is 700 according to the SGD. I'm almost two full weeks in, and not noticing a whole lot of improvement...I need a better plan. I stole a workout plan from another blog I was reading, and am going to begin implementing that as soon as humanly possible.


God, how could I slip this far? Apparently for me, this is what recovery looks like. Never. Again. Pics tomorrow afternoon~ (If I remember x.x)

Shine on~

Edit: I think I found the source of my back/leg problems, too much weight on them. Think they can handle some early morning runs?

Giving serious thought to going to bed no later than 9pm anymore to wake up at 5, drink a cup of hot green tea, go for a run, and have "breakfast". The quotes are there because it'll likely be a chopped up quarter of an apple and a handful of raw oats. (They taste better raw for some reason. I can't explain it.)

Also, good news. We couldn't afford groceries, and neither can a friend of mine. So, all my junk food is finding it's way into her house so she'll have something to eat - It's fine if I starve, I'm trying to, but she doesn't need to suffer too. She's already gorgeous. <3

Yay, yatta!

In light of my past couple days of failure, I did so much better today and yesterday.

I lost the list of what I ate yesterday (My notebook can rarely go to school with me. People I talk with are getting suspicious of how I write every time I nibble on something. Those questions aren't welcome!) I do remember the end count, though - 359 total!! That's almost 100 under the total for that day, which was 450. Not bad, not bad~

Today, there were 3 small pieces of chicken, all dark meat. (I've stopped with the white meat only thing, after figuring out that dark meat was lower in calories.
Total was 208.32 exactly, and I do believe I'm done for the evening.


...Well, there was also a slice of toast with a small bit of peanut butter on it. Ouch...So it looks like my total is 413.32.  That's not too bad, at least. It's under 450! :D

Unless my sugar drops through the floor again, I don't plan on eating again 'til tomorrow. And tomorrow, I'm going out, so I won't have time to get all 650 calories in. Woooh~

Oh, and also, there will be pictures soon. Of my non-tiny belly.

Failure.

My last two days were complete and utter fails.

Yesterday, Tuesday, a friend came and took my Nyxxie and me to dinner. I was sabotaged and made to order a meal that had no hope of being under 500 calories and just eating 3/5 of it. Guh.

Today...Today is completely my fault and the fault of my weak will.

No matter! I'm getting my ass back on track! 500 calories or less tomorrow, Thursday, day 11. If I eat more, it's razor blades on my ribs. No. More. Fuckups.