I feel absolutely disgusting. Lots of swear words.

I purged twice today, and the purge-hangover has officially commenced. I had one yesterday too. And all I want to do is go to sleep and wake up lighter but I have a fucking reflection to write about the show I was in. WHY DO I HAVE TO RELFECT? WASN'T EIGHT SHOWS ENOUGH FUCKING WORK?

Guess not. Nothing I ever do is enough.
Down to 187.something as of ten minutes ago.
Woke up at 189.4.

Fucking water weight that I lose purging.

Candy cane vomit...

Is not as fun as it sounds.
Because little bits of candy cane are still in your stomach and haven't dissolved. They come up a little scratchy, but that's not the bad part.
The bad part is having to reach in the toilet to scrape off those bits because they stuck to the bottom of the bowl, and you can't just leave it there, because then your cover is blown, because you're the only one on the floor with those little multicolored cherry candy canes.

Not to mention your roommate just watched you eat the whole box.

Feeling better.

A lot of people I follow have been blogging about recent suicide attempts.
And it's so painful to see people I care about (even though I'm very bad about commenting) hurt so badly. And I want to say something deep and meaningful here, but I can't. I don't know what to say. I'm usually this way about emotional things.
So pretend I said something meaningful that made you cry.

On a brighter note, if I can refrain from eating until I go to sleep, I'll be at 500 calories for the day. Still too much.


Also, the girl who constantly talks about her eating disorder just tweeted this:
"Just got 40 chicken nuggets, 2 medium fries, and 2 root beers. #ohmygod #illnevereatagain"


You're ridiculous, miss.

Sometimes your apathy hits a point you can't control.


And you start to feel again.

I'm working on it.

So this weekend, I was really horny.
Friday, my camp friends and I went to my camp on the same lake to party. I got really a little bit drunk (mango vodka equals delicious). And this guy that I work at camp with (who I hooked up with twice over the summer) was also really a little bit drunk. And so we proceeded to hook up again. And this time, because I've decided to be entirely apathetic about everything, it was really fucking fun. I gave my first ever blowjob. Which wasn't as awful as I thought it would be. And as we're making out, before I even sucked his dick, he goes does my neck and chest and tummy (ew, but whatever), and a little bit further, and he whispers "Do you want me to eat you out?"

UM, FUCK YEAH I DO. Whenever a guy offers to eat you out, that's how you know he's a keeper, whether it's as a boyfriend or a husband or just a fuck buddy like I've decided me and him are gonna be.

But I had to say no, because of my fucking bleeding vagina.
But never fear: I'm having another party over winter break. And I got some nice colorful condoms for free from my dorm bathroom (gotta love college). I think I'll use the green one. It's cute. :)

So I'm doing my best to eat as little as possible before break (December 15). I want to be like... 170ish? I woke up today at 189, in clothes. I think I can do it. I think I've been retaining a lot of water lately, so maybe it'll go quick. It all depends on my not stuffing food into my mouth, which I think can easily be accomplished.

I want to have the party and have my friends look at me and say, "Have you lost weight?"



Also, my new fuck buddy's girlfriend is about 100 pounds.
I don't really understand why he's into me at all.

I ate pepperoni today.

Vegetarian?

But I threw it up.
So that's alright.

FUCKING MENSTRUAL CYCLE

Prevented me from losing my virginity last night.

OCCUPY THE UTERUS.





Still a fat pig, but my friend from this summer still wants to fuck me so, good.
That is all.

Can't wait for tonight.

So the whole, "not eating the whole time I'm here thing" didn't work out. I don't understand, my mom lectures me about what I eat and then goes, "Hey, let's go get breakfast tomorrow!" "Let's make pizzas for dinner!" "Here, I forgot to make you asparagus or vegetarian stuffing, so you can just eat mashed potatoes and carrots for dinner."


Cooooool.

But tonight is the annual party for staff from my camp, and it's always a lot of fun. And after, my group of friends is going to go to camp and smoke weed and drink and eat cookies and cherry pie. Yum. :)

Comments:
@Shauna: The negativity can really drag you down. The reason my goal weight is not 140 is because to me, 140 is not ethereal. Not even close. And I don't want to be 140. I want to be ethereal. Also, because 140 is so close to my old weight, before I gained the Freshman 15. I've been close to 140, and it's not where I want to be,

@Lost in Space: Yeah. I've said it before and I'll say it again, my home environment is more toxic than anyone really realizes. How am I supposed to feel when my dad complains about his weight and about my weight, then eats potato chips right in front of me? How am I supposed to feel when my mom is trying on clothes and holding her stomach because she thinks she doesn't look good? I mean, granted, both my parents are in fact overweight, but still....

I cannot fucking BELIEVE these people.

My fucking parents. I haven't been home more than two hours, and they're already bitching at me about my weight.

Yes, I know I've gained weight, thanks for fucking pointing it out to me.
Why is it that when I lose thirty pounds STARVING myself, I get patted on the back, but when I gain twenty pounds, all of a sudden, I have a problem.
The double fucking standards in this household. When my dad starves himself on his stupid triathlon diets, he's high and mighty. He's the epitome of health. And then he gains all that damn weight back.


Well congratulations, assholes. I won't be eating for the rest of the time I'm here.

Broke as fuck.

This is kind of a good thing, because it means I can't buy food.
This is kind of a bad thing, because it means I can't buy weed or pretty things. Or weed.

Thank you all for your wonderful comments. I love you.
@Ever; Anonymous ranting accounts don't bother me. This is an anonymous ranting account. My real name isn't Charlie. My real name isn't even close to Charlie. But when people who know the person in real life can see everything that person is writing, I start to question that person's validity.

Third show is today and my skin is a mess. I can't even wash my face without it burning. But I'm going to be late, so this has to be a short post.
My weight is edging close to 200 pounds... This is really scary. And nothing I do seems to be working. Find the willpower, find the willpower...

I'm getting really sick of this.

Every time I go on Twitter...

"I didn't eat for three days, so my dad bought me McDonalds. #idontwantthis"

"Wake up, think of you, think of me, vomit."

"It's like self-induced mono."

"Going to go read Wintergirls so I don't go where I'm headed."

Shut the fuck up! I don't want to generalize eating disorders, because I know they come in all shapes and sizes, but the common thread between nearly all of them is SECRECY. Eating disordered people nearly always suffer in silence.

Enough ranting.

I haven't eaten anything yet today, but then again, I've only been awake for a few hours. I'll probably have some semblance of dinner.

Yesterday I purged twice, in the span of thirty minutes. It was real cute.

Today, I haven't eaten. I thought I was going to pass out yesterday. It was odd. I smelled/tasted menthol, and everything got quite spinny.

But let's be honest, I've been eating far too much and am way too fat to be passing out.

This may sound a bit hypocritical...

So I'm sorry.

But no actually eating disordered person is going to tweet about their eating disorder on their personal Twitter. It makes me doubt your issues. It makes me think that your main issue is your pathetically desperate cry for attention.

I wish I lived in a house.

Eating. Food. Living.

It would all be so much easier.

Instead it's all shit.

I've officially hit my highest weight ever. I don't think I'll post it here because I'm way too embarrassed.

None of my clothes fit anymore.

My room is a disheveled mess of clothes and food and garbage and candy wrappers and water bottles.

I've had this chest cold for three weeks, and I'm still hacking up phlegm every morning because I've been smoking so many herbal cigarettes and weed.

I can barely sing, due to aforementioned chest cold.

I'm absolutely stone-cold broke.

College is shit.

But college is amazing. See, no one asks if I've eaten. Or why I'm not going to lunch. Because everyone has different schedules, so they all assume that you're busy or you've eaten.

I slept eighteen hours yesterday. Eighteen hours got my weight down about five or six pounds.

And I've eaten a lot already.

And I keep telling myself, "Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow..."

And someday, tomorrow will become today.

I've been crocheting a lot lately. I have three blankets in progress and a completed hat that is extremely small. And a completed ear warmer that could probably fit a small child.

Everything is always too small.

Or maybe I'm too big...