You're a Whore

These are the words I've been hearing over and over again from girls I don't even know.
It started when I went to Larchmont, New York to see my amazing boyfriend who I love more then anything I've ever loved before. It's none of your business what we did, and we promised to each other we would keep the day a secret. But people knew I had come that day since we talked about it in public so often as we anticipated the day, and then on after.
So my boyfriend's ex girlfriend decided it would be fun to start a little lie about me and spread it through her entire school. Now I don't know how, but she has a very high, very credible reputation and people were anxious to eat up her lies like the cake they have every night. The rumor went a little something like this:
"She let him feel her up, finger her, she gave him a hand job, and she gave him head."
Okay, let me tell you something. My boyfriend gave me my first kiss that day. It was amazing. I don't think I would have my first kiss and go that far with a guy in the same day. Thats just wrong. I may love him, but I'm not that easy.
She somehow now expects me to believe that she has no feelings for him at all. She insists she doesn't care about us, all she cares about is her new boyfriend. (Last week, she said otherwise. She told me she still loved my boyfriend and didn't love hers. The contradicting hypocritical bitch.) She isn't telling her friends to say the nasty things that they are, but then again, she isn't stopping them. I'll give you an example of something someone wrote on my Formspring.
"You do not know me, but I've heard and read so much about you. The one word I can find that fits you is whore. You "love" your boyfriend, who you just started dating, and you already gave him head. Thats a WHORE."
Do you see everything wrong with that statement? From the first sentence you can tell a few things are off. First of all, "You do not know me..." then why are you even bothering to talk to me? "I've heard and read so much about you..." does this not prove that you're a judgmental idiot who loves to listen to gossip and think anything they want of people they don't know? "...who you just started dating..." my boyfriend and I have been in love since this summer. If you don't agree with it, believe it, or like it, you can kiss my ass. "...you already gave him head." NO. I didn't. Thanks for that.
Anyway, even though I didn't do any of that, who's to tell me I'm wrong if I did? If I honestly and deeply love this boy (which I do), then why should there be a limit on how I show it to him? I'm pretty sure most "whores" have several sex partners or cheat on their boyfriend. I haven't done either... in fact, my boyfriend is the only guy I've ever kissed, as I've already stated. How does that make me a whore?


My Little Freak Out

I already posted this on PrettyAlone, but I thought I'd share it with Blogspot too.

I woke up one day. I looked at myself. I started bawling on the spot. I hated every inch of myself. I HAD to do something... immediately. There was nothing I could do to change the way I looked in five seconds though. 
Oh wait... yeah. There is.
I held the menacing point of a safety pin in my fingers, and instantly dug into my hip in a perfect figure eight. I don't know what it stood for... either the amount of weight I had gained since my lowest weight... or the infinite pain of anorexia.
I didn't stop at my hips. I scratched my stomach, my thighs, my arms, my wrists... everything that needed to change. I needed to FEEL the change.
And then my hands threw themselves into the air and collided with my jiggling, repulsive figure again and again, hitting and destroying and punishing everything they could.
I screamed. I cried. I collapsed into my bed and drowned in the puddles of tears I made on the sheets. I was not leaving the house that day. I would not do anything but hold myself captive in my own body. I would not shove lard down my throat. I couldn't. I didn't deserve it.
This is not love. This is pain. These are not goals.... these numbers are drugs. This life is not a fairy tale.. it is the bruises on your body, the scars on your wrists, the valleys on your cheeks cut from the rivers of your tears. Is there a point to life if happiness will never be found?

It's Been Ages

You're probably disappointed in me. I can't even keep a blog going... it's been a month and a half since I've posted here. Honestly, I feel like such a failure. Why do I even advertise this blog on PrettyThin if I don't even update it?
I scroll and scroll through countless forum posts, pictures, anything. I'll read and I'll read, but somewhere deep within me, something tells me not to post. I haven't posted much on PrettyThin lately. I haven't been doing well enough. Actually, I've been doing TERRIBLY.
My weight is currently... 117. Probably. I don't know. My scale was taken by my bitch of a mom. I swear, if I still had a god damn scale I might be at 95 right now. Those numbers were my motivation. My push to keep going. Without them... how far can I go on my own? What do numbers even mean anymore?
The lack of an exact measurement of my fat distorts my body image even more. I Don't know what I look like anymore... am I ever going to?

This post was filled with more questions then answers. Sorry, thats all I'm left with.