Yeah, yay, fucking relapse. Great. I've been doing well for a few months, but I'm turning around and going back to anorexia. The thing about my eating disorder is that I know exactly the way my brain is working; I know I'm only focusing on food to distract myself from the fact that I'm depressed. I know I'm not invincible. I know starving myself is self destructive and it's stupid and wont solve my problems.
But despite knowing, I just don't care. I want to be a small little thing, I want to lose weight, I want to have orthostatic hypertension, anemia, blah blah blah.
So yesterday I didn't eat until 1:00; I had a mango, 3 eggs, pasta, and some onion, and I purged it. So today I didn't eat until my mom took me to a small restaurant for lunch around 2, and I had two slices of watermelon. We took a long walk and burned off those calories, but when we got home she made me eggs and toast. I had to eat that so she wouldn't think I was up to something. I took a bike ride afterward, hoping to both burn a few calories and that the exercise would speed up my metabolism.
I don't have a scale but I don't need one. Effort will show me my results in the mirror.


Lowest Weight

I just reached my lowest weight again, for the first time in months.
However, my mom caught me weighing myself and I'm really worried she'll hide the scale some place else. She's convinced I've nearly recovered from the eating disorder, (HA), so I can't be positive. She wasn't upset, either. When I said, "It's not like I still have an eating disorder or anything..." she responded "Yeah, yeah, I know, youre good, your fine."
I'm going to have my first meeting with a therapist tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do... either actually talk to her about my problems, or keep it bottled up and continue to feed her lies about why I want to recover, what being healthy means to me, how I eat three meals a day that are good for you, etc.
I feel like I want to let it out, but I don't want to let anyone else in.

Doing Well

So I've been able to stay in control. And it feels so good. I know what I'll be eating the next day before I go to bed, I wake up, and I eat it. And then I go to bed. And it feels so incredibly fulfilling and euphoric to be able to have that kind of will power, that kind of control, to be succeeding.
I'm sorry I haven't been able to post yet today, and I've barely been on PrettyThin besides.
I've been noticing something... I can't sit still for an extended period of time without a part of my body falling asleep. For example, if I'm leaning on my hand, it will fall asleep in five minutes. If I'm sitting cross legged, my feet fall asleep. I'm just wondering if this could be related to blood pressure dropping due to low caloric intake or lack of nutrients? I don't know... maybe it's nothing.

I hate the mirror.



So is this strange? Has anyone else done something like this?
I just sat in my room for about and hour and a half planning exactly what I'm going to eat for the next five days. I counted every calorie, (with help from an app I just downloaded to my iPod Touch called Daily Burn), and I have my no-fail plan until April. In case you're wondering, here are the calories:
I've figured out the times I'll be eating, too, so it always looks like I'm eating in front of my parents. Also, many of the foods I'll be eating require a while in the kitchen, which hides the fact that although I'm putting so much effort into my food, I really won't be having much of it. I feel so... so safe. So at ease. So in control.
This is bliss.


I remember being a child and never worrying about my body.
I mean, sometimes I might ask my mother why I had a belly, but she would just tell me it was baby fat and would come off when I was older. I believed her.
However... the fat only "came off when I was older" when I developed an eating disorder. I was close to overweight, and as I tapered my caloric intake from 2000+ to less than 600, I lost the weight quickly.
Anyhow, I remember being a kid and waking up in the morning a little hungry. I would jump out of the bed, rush downstairs, and start making chocolate chip pancakes with maple syrup and whipped cream. I would eat it with a tall class of milk and smile like I'd just won a million dollars. I had ice cream bars from the freezer and yogurt and popsicals throughout the day. I treated to myself to whatever I wanted, and never, not once, did my parents tell me to "eat, there are starving children in Africa."
No, as a child I was not overweight.
But when I grew up and no one stopped me from continuing these habits, (my parents were too drunk and stoned to notice much of anything about my sister and I), I got fat. My highest weight was probably around 10 years old, which, by chance or not, was when I found out about my parents' habits, but I don't remember being an emotional eater.
(Don't worry, they've quit now, and things in my house are getting a lot better.... minus the constant yelling/screaming/carping)
Now there are no pancakes I would ever think to run to when I wake up in the morning. I can't jump out of bed anymore-I sit up slowly and drag myself across the sheets, stand up, and breathe huge, slow breaths being careful not to faint from the black stars bursting in front of my eyes. I either stay in my room until the bus comes and hope that nearly being late is an excuse to miss breakfast, or saunter over to the scale and check my weight before consuming anything. I trace the outline of my ribs and hold the hole between them, not wanting to destroy it by eating much of anything. There are no sweet treats, no bowls of slimy mac & cheese. There is only a goal. A reason. A way to prove to the world that I am sufficient.


So Damaged, So Young

Sometimes it feels like I'm not taken seriously because of my age. I don't understand, though... am I really too young to be struggling like this? At my age, thirteen, I've had thoughts of suicide. I've gone on three day fasts and take in less than 300 calories every day, with difficulty. Sometimes I feel like I'm not thin enough for someone to see it as a problem at all when I tell them I have anorexia and bulimia. It's almost as though I can hear them thinking I'm too fat to be in trouble, it's not a big deal.

Ana, sometimes I hate that I love you.
Sometimes I just love you.
I need you right now. After all this instability and failure in other aspects of my life... please help me prove to the world that I really can do something right for once.



I can just imagine myself going back to camp, seeing all my friends, doing the things I used to do.... but being 20 lbs lighter than last year. 100 lbs, thin, dry, and cold beneath the burning sun, laughing and free and perfect and strong willed. I want them to see how much power I have. I want someone, anyone to recognize that I really don't do everything halfway after all.


Does anyone else ever do this or have this?
On my iPod I have a playlist labeled "blah." which has about 10 songs about anorexia or bulimia. Blah, because it's a much less suspicious name than "Songs About How Much I Hate Myself and What I Go Through". I listen to them, because they scream the words I'm too weak to say myself. They cry the tears I hold back, and yell every flaw that I can never let escape my head.


I've just been cold all day.
Cold today, cold yesterday.
No, Alex, nothing is wrong. No, Hannah, I'm not losing weight. No, Tal, I don't want to pick up my fork. Yes Mom, I ate three meals a day today. No, Dad, I don't know where the scales is. Yes, Maddie, I'm measuring my vegetables exactly because it's a recipe, not because I'm counting calories. Yes, Stef, I am okay.
I am okay.

3 lbs in 1 day

I... I mean, I just don't believe it.
Usually I don't consume anything (including liquids) until about 4:00, when I can weigh myself. Yesterday the scale said 117.2. I ate 200 calories, green tea, about a liter of water, then went to bed. Today, again, I consumed nothing until around 5:00, but weighed myself at 4:00. I'd lost 3 lbs.
I know this wasn't water or food weight because two days ago I was 118.4, and did the same thing. I'd lost a pound, no big deal.
But, this has never happened to me. I'm really glad, don't get me wrong! But I'm also confused.



I cut a lot last night after a huge purge.
Why do I always do this to myself? I'll lose three pounds, get a little bit happy with myself, and start eating normally. Then, I'll gain it all back in a week and purge. Then, I lose three pounds again... and the cycle never ends.
Or, at least, that's how it is when I don't have a scale to check myself.
But THANKFULLY, I found it, and I'll be staying on track for a while.

Back to the cutting.
It was a knife, a real knife, but an awfully rigid one. It wasn't the sharpest, but it definitely drew blood from my thighs and wrists.
Urgh. That word. Wrists. It sounds so... so crazy/gross/hopeless. It's depressing to say, really. I didn't actually realize how abnormal it is to draw your own blood until I wrote that.

1.2 lbs

Yes, I lost 1.2 in a day! This was about a 22 hour fast, probably lost from all the water weight and food weight coming off.
So here's what I'm doing:
I weigh myself around 3:30 daily. I basically only eat around 5:00 or 6:00, about 200 calories, which is what I've just done. This way I'm not weighing myself with all that deceitful food and water, I'm weighing myself clean and pure.
I went from 118.4 to 117.2. Hopefully going to be below 117 by 3:00 tomorrow, aiming for 116.5. (:


Weighing Again

My parents were hiding it, haha.
I did a freaking dance in my room. I'm so happy! When I had a scale, I was losing about a half a pound per day. Now I can stop gaining and losing 3 lbs and just keep on track! Hopefully I'll be 105 by this summer!



I just had a forty minute run and feel sort of good about it. I kept pushing myself to take longer and longer routes until I couldn't run anymore, and the control over myself calmed me for a bit. Oh, that is, until I looked into the mirror. I saw a three-hundred-pound waste of life.
I quickly stripped and doused myself in a freezing bath. I read somewhere that's supposed to make your metabolism work harder. Hopefully I'll weigh less tomorrow.

My Vacation

So I thought I would recover.
But half way through vacation, I looked in the mirror, and all those old feelings came back to me. I hated myself for the way I looked. I am so fat, and I always will be. I called my boyfriend and told him it wasn't over, I can't stop the eating disorder. He told me he was upset but he would be there for me. I starved the next day. I've been eating less than I used to lately, but still, too much. Way too much. All I am is an eating machine. A no good, useless, fat, waste of space. I don't deserve to be looked at. I don't deserve to be talked to.
Saturday morning I had pancakes.
I ate that night too. Almost nothing, but I still ate.
How the hell am I supposed to lose weight if I just keep eating like this.
I had some lunch, but that's all I'm eating today. Fasting tomorrow, which is Monday, until Friday night and Saturday morning, because my boyfriend's confirmation is Saturday and I need the energy to see him.
God I hate myself.


I remember back when I had a scale...
I was losing several pounds a week. Now I'm down to nothing ever since it was taken away.
I hate myself so much.

I'm Such a Failure

I weigh as much as I did this summer.
I've just been reversing all the work I put into my body. Not getting thinner. I'm sooooo fucking fat now. I'm disgusting. I'm not as thin as I used to be. And even then, I wasn't even thin! I need to lose, and fast. I need it gone TODAY. This isn't a game anymore. I really, really fucking hate myself, and there's nothing I can do but, sit, starve, wait, and watch. I don't have a scale so I can't even track myself losing any weight. God, I fucking hate myself.
Sorry for the redundant rambling. I just feel like shit.


They Think I'm Getting Better

I eat when I'm around them. Yes, I do. Because if we're out to eat and I don't take a bite, they will put me in therapy. Or worse, they will put me in an institute. I came quite close to that about a month and a half ago, but they ended up not having an education program and my mom decided that wasn't a good idea. If they notice I'm not eating again.... I WILL be locked up.
The thing is, the thought of being with girls who are going through the same thing I am and being with people who know how to deal with it and understand almost appeals to me. It's just that coming out of that prison, looking at how much fatter I've become, and heading into another spiral of self-destruction is not a good idea.
So, I have to eat in order to get them off my case. And they've BEEN off my case, but I haven't been losing weight. Also the winter and the icy roads make it harder to work out. I hate this rut I'm in!
I'm thinking of just completely saying, "fuck it," and starving until I'm a twig, but I know that as soon as I say the three deadly words, "I'm not hungry," I'll be shipped to a center.

So what do I do?


So my thighs are getting pretty close to not touching. When I put my knees together, the top of them just brush each other gently. Almost barely.
But they're still touching.
And so, I still hate myself. I can't lose the weight, I'm not good enough. My boyfriend must be repulsed when he sees the jelly covering my bones. He always tells me I'm not fat but I know he's lying. I must be somewhere around 114 or 113 by now. If not, and if I get on the scale and I'm more.... I don't know what will happen.
Since my mom took the scale, the only time I can weigh myself is at my grandparents house. The scale in their bathroom is, and I'm not kidding, called, "THINNER". Every time I look at it, that word at the top screams imperfection. I'm 114 lbs, and yes, I do need to be thinner. My goal is to be 90. I don't know if anyone will like it... I don't know if my boyfriend will like it... I don't know if I'll look beautiful even then. But when I imagine myself getting on the scale and seeing those digits, I just NEED to get there. I don't care if my boyfriend is disgusted with the skeletal frame... I won't be.