Respite. A beautiful word. What makes it even more beautiful is the fact that soon, this little piggy will be enjoying said respite on a beach in Thailand without the ever watchful eyes of A around!
The last few days have been an absolute nightmare. A has been watching me constantly. Her eyes, like focused laser beams, follow me around with relentless intensity, judging every move I make. If I say no to eating even one tiny thing, she performs the "you're breaking my heart because you don't eat enough" song and dance, even if she has just seen me shovel food into my ever expanding gob. My body, despite the inundation of laxatives, has been slowly re-blubberfying itself. Needless to say, after 3 days of non-stop supervision, eating and laxie-induced purging, I am looking forward to getting back to a good old-fashioned fast!
Finally, I feel like I'm regaining a sense of control. My life has been slipping away from me, my control running away like an unrestrained fat girl cavorting through a candy shop. But now the tide has turned! Today, in the peace of my office, I've happily restricted to less than 500cals, with no more intake planned for the day. I've also got a late meeting tonight, which means I won't be home in time for the evening meal! I feel a happy skip coming on.
The prospect of spending an entire week in a warm, sunny land where the main focus of my attention will be reading a good book, long leisurely walks on the beach and fasting as much as possible. Of course, husband will be with me, but seeing as how he hasn't questioned me about my restriction I shan't let his presence stop me. Unfortunately, when I return it will be alone - husband will be travelling on to other distant lands for work, which will leave me completely at the mercy of A. The only saving grace is that she won't be with us for too much longer after that and things can return to 'normal'.
So this little piggy goes to Thailand. This little piggy will have none. This little piggy shall come home a thinner slice of bacon. At least that's the plan...
Bless to all, xx S
Monday, September 27, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Four Weeks
I have four weeks of 'supervision' and "You don't eat anything! You're breaking my heart!" to get though. Lord, give me strength...
I am not the most gracious of people. I am an introvert. I like people, don't get me wrong, but there aren't many I can tolerate being in close quarters with for long periods of time. In fact, there are days I long to indulge in hours of solitude and navel-gazing. But most of all, I long for my freedom. The freedom to fast. The freedom to have a liquids only day. The freedom to restrict my calorie intake and exercise like a demon. But of late, these freedoms have been severely cramped.
Hats off to all who still live with their parents or guardians. How on earth do you manage? I can hardly throw teenage temper tantrums and storm off to my room, letting the door slip off my fingers and slam in the face of the freedom-offending person. I must maintain a decorum befitting a woman my age. I must keep my smooth, controlled exterior visible at all times and calmly laugh off the accusations of never eating. I must wear my 'normal' mask. But damn, it is starting to chafe!
Friday promises to be a day of freedom and I am looking forward to it with a vehemence. A will be out with my parents in law, all day, so I won't have the inevitable questions, the watching, the constant buzzing in my ear "eat something, eat something, eat something" Sheer bliss! But then she will inevitably return. It's enough to make me scream. But that would be a loss of control. We don't lose control, do we ladies? We are far too refined and delicate for that kind of plebeian display. We are the gifted ones. The blessed.
But 4 weeks? That is a stretch.
Bless to all,
S xx
I am not the most gracious of people. I am an introvert. I like people, don't get me wrong, but there aren't many I can tolerate being in close quarters with for long periods of time. In fact, there are days I long to indulge in hours of solitude and navel-gazing. But most of all, I long for my freedom. The freedom to fast. The freedom to have a liquids only day. The freedom to restrict my calorie intake and exercise like a demon. But of late, these freedoms have been severely cramped.
Hats off to all who still live with their parents or guardians. How on earth do you manage? I can hardly throw teenage temper tantrums and storm off to my room, letting the door slip off my fingers and slam in the face of the freedom-offending person. I must maintain a decorum befitting a woman my age. I must keep my smooth, controlled exterior visible at all times and calmly laugh off the accusations of never eating. I must wear my 'normal' mask. But damn, it is starting to chafe!
Friday promises to be a day of freedom and I am looking forward to it with a vehemence. A will be out with my parents in law, all day, so I won't have the inevitable questions, the watching, the constant buzzing in my ear "eat something, eat something, eat something" Sheer bliss! But then she will inevitably return. It's enough to make me scream. But that would be a loss of control. We don't lose control, do we ladies? We are far too refined and delicate for that kind of plebeian display. We are the gifted ones. The blessed.
But 4 weeks? That is a stretch.
Bless to all,
S xx
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Again, again, we start again.
After last night's epic fail, I'm starting again on the 30hr fast. While I don't think I can make it a completely zero cal fast, I can stick to liquids (keeps A off my back when she sees me eating 'soup' - even if it is only a broth of 5 cals!) and hope that me and ana can evade the searchlights for a little longer. So far today, I've had my obligatory coffee and nothing else! Truly, I love not eating! So much fun!
Husband, on the other hand, has been surprisingly supportive. Much to my delight he's recognised my need for control and doesn't question my choices or my lack of eating. He asked me the other morning how much more weight I wanted to lose. I told him 10kg (not true, but enough for him to buy it without alarm bells ringing). He then requested we 'review' where I'm at after 5kg... But like I've said before, what 5kg is for him, 10kg is for me. :)
I've also recognised how much I need you all. If I don't blog, then it's not real. If I don't comment and read your stories, then I fade into obscurity and solitude. So thank you, one and all, for being such a wonderful support network. We can do this, we can be skinny, we can be beautiful. So again, again, we start again and back on our horse we ride.
Bless to all,
S xx
Husband, on the other hand, has been surprisingly supportive. Much to my delight he's recognised my need for control and doesn't question my choices or my lack of eating. He asked me the other morning how much more weight I wanted to lose. I told him 10kg (not true, but enough for him to buy it without alarm bells ringing). He then requested we 'review' where I'm at after 5kg... But like I've said before, what 5kg is for him, 10kg is for me. :)
I've also recognised how much I need you all. If I don't blog, then it's not real. If I don't comment and read your stories, then I fade into obscurity and solitude. So thank you, one and all, for being such a wonderful support network. We can do this, we can be skinny, we can be beautiful. So again, again, we start again and back on our horse we ride.
Bless to all,
S xx
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Epic, epic fail
Having a really tough time with A around - can't get away with anything!!!! Freaking me out! Have completely failed at 30 hr fast, fucking, fucking food! Why does she watch me so??? I can't stand it! I hate myself. Feel so horrible and undeserving and FAT. Going to try and make myself feel better by eating a packet of laxies now :( *sigh*
"J'ai déjà mangé, merci"
"I've already eaten, thanks". A phrase I've been using often. Leaving 'dirty' plates out, cooking for hours, claiming an upset stomach when it comes to meals time, or that I've eaten too much whilst in the kitchen. Ensuring I'm seen with a piece of fruit in my grubby little fist or a stick of celery hanging out of my large, flapping gob... I've even taken to pulling food out of the fridge and throwing it away so that there appears to have been some kind of consumption. Already, I am running out of patience. But still, I persevere. Honestly, I don't know how those of you who still live at home manage! Kudos to you all!
This weekend was a terrible one. We'd decided to have a party of sorts to welcome A (the pseudo mother) to Australia, so of course there was a glutton's delight of food. Having noticed that I hadn't eaten much, A pushed a plate piled high with all the things I 'love' to eat - potatoes, lamb chops, sausages, bread, cheese - into my recalcitrant hands... urgh. I made a show of consuming some of it, eating around the dead animal and high carb items, but I had to go and have a chaser of laxies after that. I don't know how much damage was done, but I definitely feel like I'm heavier... Happily today, there is the sanctuary of work. A calm, supervision free environment where I can fast to my heart's content.
I'm going to try for a little fast today - just to see if she notices. 30 hours should do it. Tomorrow I probably won't be able to get away without having some kind of solid food shoved down my gullet, but I shall do all I can to ensure that I remain food-free! Do whatever it takes. Stay strong, stay in control. Happiness ensues :)
Bless to all, S xx
This weekend was a terrible one. We'd decided to have a party of sorts to welcome A (the pseudo mother) to Australia, so of course there was a glutton's delight of food. Having noticed that I hadn't eaten much, A pushed a plate piled high with all the things I 'love' to eat - potatoes, lamb chops, sausages, bread, cheese - into my recalcitrant hands... urgh. I made a show of consuming some of it, eating around the dead animal and high carb items, but I had to go and have a chaser of laxies after that. I don't know how much damage was done, but I definitely feel like I'm heavier... Happily today, there is the sanctuary of work. A calm, supervision free environment where I can fast to my heart's content.
I'm going to try for a little fast today - just to see if she notices. 30 hours should do it. Tomorrow I probably won't be able to get away without having some kind of solid food shoved down my gullet, but I shall do all I can to ensure that I remain food-free! Do whatever it takes. Stay strong, stay in control. Happiness ensues :)
Bless to all, S xx
Friday, September 17, 2010
Lockdown
Sun Tzu got it right in 'The Art of War'. My enemy's enemy is my friend. In my case, my enemy is the Canadian Slut and by proxy, (as a result of his decision to carry on an affair with her) my husband. And their enemy is our therapist. While I cannot exactly call him friend, I will in this case cite him as an invaluable ally...
Going to therapy is like going into battle. There are two opposing sides, each with their battle lines drawn up, reasonable and logical arguments in place, emotional warfare ready to go... But like any battle, there is a secret weapon, an archaic art which will lend one side a greater chance of ultimately winning. It is a secret which all of us are born with, but only a select few know how to exercise. It is the art of maintaining control of the situation. Beautiful, sweet control. What greater skill could a woman have?
The battle for emotional supremacy within the walls of our therapist's office was won soundly, by yours truly. Shed just enough tears, share just enough secrets, but provoke the right conversation and the world is yours for the taking. Husband capitulated. He said sorry. He admitted he was wrong and begged my forgiveness. With the piercing, black eyes of our therapist boring into his soft, unprotected soul, his shameful truth came gushing out. Over and over the therapist dug away at his flimsy reasons and lies to expose the bones of his choices. He cheated. He made the wrong decision. He abused my trust and love and selfishly succumbed to his own desires. Sweet victory. It tastes almost as good as fasting.
Since then, our relationship has improved dramatically. Yes, I agree with you all - husband is an a-hole. But now he is a much more honest a-hole and I still care very deeply for him, so I shall continue to tread this path of married. If truth be told, I've always enjoyed the roller-coaster much more than the merry-go-round.
The next challenge is to continue on my downward trend of weight-loss. Husband has been noticing more and more the lack of intake. I keep him mostly off my back with: "We've discussed this love, it's something I need to do, you're as extreme as I am, you have to allow me my freedom of self. I am eating, so don't worry, I have no intention of harming myself" Of course, I've been keeping to mostly fluids, occasionally a salad, a piece of toast or coffee when he's watching, but my favourite is nothing at all when I can swing it. But now there is an added obstacle, a visitor, a pseudo mother of sorts, who is staying with us for 4 weeks. Here I am, a grown woman in my thirties, worried about what my mum will say. Too cute!
And so up the tracks our little car rides, up to the dizzy heights of how far can I go? How can I keep my intake as low as possible while everyone around me insists of trying to shove food into my face? 'Tis one of the highs I live for, but now we are in lockdown, peeps. Curfew has been established and I am alone in the field with the searchlights seeking me out. In this case, I can't define my enemy's enemy. But I know who my friend is. Ana.
Bless to all, S xx
Going to therapy is like going into battle. There are two opposing sides, each with their battle lines drawn up, reasonable and logical arguments in place, emotional warfare ready to go... But like any battle, there is a secret weapon, an archaic art which will lend one side a greater chance of ultimately winning. It is a secret which all of us are born with, but only a select few know how to exercise. It is the art of maintaining control of the situation. Beautiful, sweet control. What greater skill could a woman have?
The battle for emotional supremacy within the walls of our therapist's office was won soundly, by yours truly. Shed just enough tears, share just enough secrets, but provoke the right conversation and the world is yours for the taking. Husband capitulated. He said sorry. He admitted he was wrong and begged my forgiveness. With the piercing, black eyes of our therapist boring into his soft, unprotected soul, his shameful truth came gushing out. Over and over the therapist dug away at his flimsy reasons and lies to expose the bones of his choices. He cheated. He made the wrong decision. He abused my trust and love and selfishly succumbed to his own desires. Sweet victory. It tastes almost as good as fasting.
Since then, our relationship has improved dramatically. Yes, I agree with you all - husband is an a-hole. But now he is a much more honest a-hole and I still care very deeply for him, so I shall continue to tread this path of married. If truth be told, I've always enjoyed the roller-coaster much more than the merry-go-round.
The next challenge is to continue on my downward trend of weight-loss. Husband has been noticing more and more the lack of intake. I keep him mostly off my back with: "We've discussed this love, it's something I need to do, you're as extreme as I am, you have to allow me my freedom of self. I am eating, so don't worry, I have no intention of harming myself" Of course, I've been keeping to mostly fluids, occasionally a salad, a piece of toast or coffee when he's watching, but my favourite is nothing at all when I can swing it. But now there is an added obstacle, a visitor, a pseudo mother of sorts, who is staying with us for 4 weeks. Here I am, a grown woman in my thirties, worried about what my mum will say. Too cute!
And so up the tracks our little car rides, up to the dizzy heights of how far can I go? How can I keep my intake as low as possible while everyone around me insists of trying to shove food into my face? 'Tis one of the highs I live for, but now we are in lockdown, peeps. Curfew has been established and I am alone in the field with the searchlights seeking me out. In this case, I can't define my enemy's enemy. But I know who my friend is. Ana.
Bless to all, S xx
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Hypocritic Oath
Hypocrisy. A common fault amongst men and women alike, but there are some who like to take it to the extreme. Do as I say, not as I do... I can do this but you can't... I'm allowed to cheat, but if you do it then we'll have to break up and you'll have to move out for a while...
Ahhh yes, the folly of a stupid, arrogant man. No points for guessing whose lips these words escaped from, ladies... Husband dearest, darling mine, swore the Hypocritic Oath to me last night. He did it as the result of a test I'd formulated. After a bit of snooping, I discovered an email he'd sent to the Canadian Slut. She had finally noticed that I'd deleted her from his list of FB friends and had emailed him to ask why... this was his response...
"hey C,
nice to hear from you. Actually - I didn't delete you from facebook - but you do appear to be gone from my friends list! Very curious...
I've been away on business the past week - in Hong Kong and hadn't logged in to facebook since about yesterday I don't think - but I just had to brag about the gorgeous silk ties I bought at monkok (!)... I've been working to grow our business into HK and it's going very well. Actually, our business is going so well we're talking about moving into North America as a market...
So, whats happened lately, S brought up our time in Miami a few weeks ago for some reason or other and has been churning over lots of things in her past relationships and somehow made an emotional connection with the way I'd talked about how I felt about you and some other stuff with other guys bla bla - makes me a little uncertain as to whether perhaps I'd left myself logged into to facebook on her notebook before I left for HK and she's done some pruning of my friends list in the mean time! Unless someone has used your computer and deleted me as your friend of course!!! :p
Well - in any case - it's a bit odd but not relevant to any emotion on my part. In fact every now and then I log into to facebook or messenger just incase you're about and I can say hi. My last email to you on facebook said it all... you are missed my dear."
Not the words of a remorseful man, I'm sure you'd agree. I'd also like you to note the subtle way he's indicated that there will be more trips to North America, whereby he might be in a position to cheat on me again. It was in that moment, I hatched a cunning plan. I was going to do to him what he did to me. I was going to plan a rendezvous with another man, go out with him, get drunk with him and fuck him to within an inch of his life. Except I was going to be honest (please note I use this word very loosely) with my husband and tell him what I was planning to do before the actual event.
His reaction was completely predictable and exactly what I was hoping for - he freaked out! He was so shocked and taken aback - he actually stopped breathing for a minute and nearly fainted. He ranted and raved for a while, saying that after all the work we've been doing to save our relationship, why would I do something like that, why would I want to jeopardise our marriage, how would he ever be able to trust me again, how could I hurt him like that? Then of course, there was the "I can't tell you what to do and I'm not one to give ultimatums, but if you do go ahead with this plan of action you'll have to move out and tell people we've broken up" line.
And there it was, hypocrisy in all of it's glory. I sweetly reminded him that I was merely giving him the courtesy of disclosure he denied me. I was giving him the right to choose what happened next in our relationship instead of going behind his back like he went behind mine. I reminded him I hadn't actually done anything, so there was no harm done. He still wasn't convinced, so I sent a bogus text message to a friend of mine (with whom I had pre-arranged all of this cunning plan) to say I was cancelling the rendezvous. Husband was so relieved. And finally his eyes were opened to the pain I have been carrying around for all of these weeks. An eye-opener, he called it. We shall see.
I'm still burning with anger at the email he sent Canadian Slut, but tomorrow night we have therapy, so it will no doubt be raised. The only upside of finding that email, is that I lost another 800g, so am now getting closer to that elusive 70kg. I haven't been counting my calories over the last few days, but my intake has been minimal, so far today, I've only had a black coffee, apple and half piece of dry toast. I think that will suffice as well. Back on the cross trainer I shall haul my fat ass, so that as I get skinnier and more beautiful, the more my husband will realise that his tenuous grasp of fidelity will become firmer, or he will lose me.
That's all for now.
Bless to all, S xx
Ahhh yes, the folly of a stupid, arrogant man. No points for guessing whose lips these words escaped from, ladies... Husband dearest, darling mine, swore the Hypocritic Oath to me last night. He did it as the result of a test I'd formulated. After a bit of snooping, I discovered an email he'd sent to the Canadian Slut. She had finally noticed that I'd deleted her from his list of FB friends and had emailed him to ask why... this was his response...
"hey C,
nice to hear from you. Actually - I didn't delete you from facebook - but you do appear to be gone from my friends list! Very curious...
I've been away on business the past week - in Hong Kong and hadn't logged in to facebook since about yesterday I don't think - but I just had to brag about the gorgeous silk ties I bought at monkok (!)... I've been working to grow our business into HK and it's going very well. Actually, our business is going so well we're talking about moving into North America as a market...
So, whats happened lately, S brought up our time in Miami a few weeks ago for some reason or other and has been churning over lots of things in her past relationships and somehow made an emotional connection with the way I'd talked about how I felt about you and some other stuff with other guys bla bla - makes me a little uncertain as to whether perhaps I'd left myself logged into to facebook on her notebook before I left for HK and she's done some pruning of my friends list in the mean time! Unless someone has used your computer and deleted me as your friend of course!!! :p
Well - in any case - it's a bit odd but not relevant to any emotion on my part. In fact every now and then I log into to facebook or messenger just incase you're about and I can say hi. My last email to you on facebook said it all... you are missed my dear."
Not the words of a remorseful man, I'm sure you'd agree. I'd also like you to note the subtle way he's indicated that there will be more trips to North America, whereby he might be in a position to cheat on me again. It was in that moment, I hatched a cunning plan. I was going to do to him what he did to me. I was going to plan a rendezvous with another man, go out with him, get drunk with him and fuck him to within an inch of his life. Except I was going to be honest (please note I use this word very loosely) with my husband and tell him what I was planning to do before the actual event.
His reaction was completely predictable and exactly what I was hoping for - he freaked out! He was so shocked and taken aback - he actually stopped breathing for a minute and nearly fainted. He ranted and raved for a while, saying that after all the work we've been doing to save our relationship, why would I do something like that, why would I want to jeopardise our marriage, how would he ever be able to trust me again, how could I hurt him like that? Then of course, there was the "I can't tell you what to do and I'm not one to give ultimatums, but if you do go ahead with this plan of action you'll have to move out and tell people we've broken up" line.
And there it was, hypocrisy in all of it's glory. I sweetly reminded him that I was merely giving him the courtesy of disclosure he denied me. I was giving him the right to choose what happened next in our relationship instead of going behind his back like he went behind mine. I reminded him I hadn't actually done anything, so there was no harm done. He still wasn't convinced, so I sent a bogus text message to a friend of mine (with whom I had pre-arranged all of this cunning plan) to say I was cancelling the rendezvous. Husband was so relieved. And finally his eyes were opened to the pain I have been carrying around for all of these weeks. An eye-opener, he called it. We shall see.
I'm still burning with anger at the email he sent Canadian Slut, but tomorrow night we have therapy, so it will no doubt be raised. The only upside of finding that email, is that I lost another 800g, so am now getting closer to that elusive 70kg. I haven't been counting my calories over the last few days, but my intake has been minimal, so far today, I've only had a black coffee, apple and half piece of dry toast. I think that will suffice as well. Back on the cross trainer I shall haul my fat ass, so that as I get skinnier and more beautiful, the more my husband will realise that his tenuous grasp of fidelity will become firmer, or he will lose me.
That's all for now.
Bless to all, S xx
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Encore et toujours
Again and forever. Eat, you fat pig, eat! This seems to be my eternal struggle. I met a girlfriend for lunch today, I took her to a sushi train, thinking that if I talk as much as I normally do, I won't eat much, won't go over my 500 cal limit... Epic, epic fail! While I know that it probably won't do too much damage - I tried to keep to pieces of fish only, avoiding as many carbs as possible - my belly feels horribly full. Distended, uncomfortable, fat.
Why do I do this to myself? Why am I always and forever repeating this cycle? Why must I eat at all? Isn't there some sort of sign I can wear around my neck, or better yet, a tattoo I can get? Something like "I don't do food" or "Food? Get fucked!" Surely there must be... But only in a world without bleeding hearts and judgemental fuckwits.
Worse than that, when I got on my scales this morning a horrible new number flashed its glaring face at me. A number above what I was yesterday, 400g more. And now the failure of eating. Fuckity, fuckity, fuck. My albatross. My burden to bear. My weakness. My betrayal.
Never mind. Tomorrow means that I can fast to my heart's content. I'm going to be away from home, out of the office, away from all temptations with only my water bottle for company and my cross trainer waiting patiently at home. I shall maintain control, looking for that light-headed buzz of knowing that I've been able to smile sweetly and say 'No, thank you. I don't do food.' There is hope on the horizon, but dammit, I hate eating. I hate being fat. I want to be me again. I want the future to be here now.
Thin me up, Scotty.
Bless to all,
S xx
Why do I do this to myself? Why am I always and forever repeating this cycle? Why must I eat at all? Isn't there some sort of sign I can wear around my neck, or better yet, a tattoo I can get? Something like "I don't do food" or "Food? Get fucked!" Surely there must be... But only in a world without bleeding hearts and judgemental fuckwits.
Worse than that, when I got on my scales this morning a horrible new number flashed its glaring face at me. A number above what I was yesterday, 400g more. And now the failure of eating. Fuckity, fuckity, fuck. My albatross. My burden to bear. My weakness. My betrayal.
Never mind. Tomorrow means that I can fast to my heart's content. I'm going to be away from home, out of the office, away from all temptations with only my water bottle for company and my cross trainer waiting patiently at home. I shall maintain control, looking for that light-headed buzz of knowing that I've been able to smile sweetly and say 'No, thank you. I don't do food.' There is hope on the horizon, but dammit, I hate eating. I hate being fat. I want to be me again. I want the future to be here now.
Thin me up, Scotty.
Bless to all,
S xx
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Hatred, my old friend.
Hate. It's not a word I like to apply to many areas of my life, but every time my husband leaves on another work trip, it slips back into my un-trusting mind like an insipid thief. It burns me, twists me into thinking the darkest thoughts and drives me to push my body to its limits. It is my control.
It is an odd feeling to both loathe and love someone at the same time. While I still care very deeply for my husband and still have the occasional overwhelming rush of love for him, his actions will forever be burned into my memory. He fucked someone else. Each time he leaves, the feeling of love goes with him and all I'm left with is my hatred. Hatred, my old friend.
In my mind, I can curse her as much as I want to. Stupid Canadian slag. Her name is Cam. She's a slut. A fucking whore slut who, one day, will get her just rewards. One day, before the most sacred and validating day of her and her partner's lives, he will vanish for a few days and fuck someone else. Karma's a bitch, slut. But it still doesn't make me feel any better. I'm the one who was made the fool. And it will never stop hurting.
So in the end, hatred becomes my ally. It pushes my husband away, making him realise that he has done wrong, and that he must work harder for me to love him again. It pushes me to keep my temptations at bay, resist the calories, resist the pathetic human desire to eat. It makes me beautiful. Every time he comes home, I'm thinner. Every time he comes home he finds me more and more attractive. Every time he comes home, I love him a little less, but I love my hatred a little more.
It is a terrible juxtaposition, but one for which I am grateful, for without it, I would have no control.
Bless to all,
S xx
It is an odd feeling to both loathe and love someone at the same time. While I still care very deeply for my husband and still have the occasional overwhelming rush of love for him, his actions will forever be burned into my memory. He fucked someone else. Each time he leaves, the feeling of love goes with him and all I'm left with is my hatred. Hatred, my old friend.
In my mind, I can curse her as much as I want to. Stupid Canadian slag. Her name is Cam. She's a slut. A fucking whore slut who, one day, will get her just rewards. One day, before the most sacred and validating day of her and her partner's lives, he will vanish for a few days and fuck someone else. Karma's a bitch, slut. But it still doesn't make me feel any better. I'm the one who was made the fool. And it will never stop hurting.
So in the end, hatred becomes my ally. It pushes my husband away, making him realise that he has done wrong, and that he must work harder for me to love him again. It pushes me to keep my temptations at bay, resist the calories, resist the pathetic human desire to eat. It makes me beautiful. Every time he comes home, I'm thinner. Every time he comes home he finds me more and more attractive. Every time he comes home, I love him a little less, but I love my hatred a little more.
It is a terrible juxtaposition, but one for which I am grateful, for without it, I would have no control.
Bless to all,
S xx
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Return to madness
I suppose that there is some truth to the old idiom that a change is as good as a holiday, but I must disagree... A holiday is as good as it gets. The only time this is not true is if you get hijacked by Somalian pirates, or a monkey steals your wallet and then proceeds to throw its poo at you. Luckily for me neither of these things occurred in sunny Melbourne. In fact, in sunny Melbourne, I lost another kilo. And not one of my friends noticed what I was doing! Bliss! While there was considerable alcohol consumption, I managed to keep my actual food intake to a bare minimum and insisted on walking everywhere to keep my activity levels up. I even snuck in a run one morning. So as far as a holiday goes, that was a good one!
When I returned home, my husband picked me up from the airport, drove me home and then proceeded to fuck me sideways. I guess he must have missed me. We ended up talking for hours about his infidelity, past issues and expectations for our marriage. His honesty was refreshing, not to mention incredibly reassuring. It was then that he sprung the inevitible question on me... "Honey, how come you're losing weight so fast? You're not... doing anything stupid are you?" Poor sweet blossom. Yes, darling, yes I am doing something stupid. But like I'm going to tell him that. I trotted out the same line I used on my therapist. I need control, I need to take charge of my life and regain my independence, opportunities and self-worth. I need to be thin to have those things. He nodded sagely then asked what I have to do to get there. I told him I was going to fast for a week. He said ok. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I guess this is his way of saying sorry. (At least, that's how I choose to interpret it!)
But it was his next question which floored me... "So when do I have to get worried about you? How skinny do you need to be before I have to check you into the psych ward?" I'm sure I heard a chorus of angels singing songs of heavenly praise! So I told him if I dropped below 52kg that would be below a BMI of 20. What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right? I warned him that I might look skinner than other girls at this weight because I've got such heavy bones and muscles... lie lie lie... He swallowed it all up with a sigh of happiness. I fed it to him with a sigh of happiness. And there we lay, together in our happiness, me in my madness, him in his ignorance. T'was the the most blissful moment.
So, now I am free to restrict my intake how I please and say that I'm still in the 'healthy' range. No questions asked. This month will be beautiful, 500 or less cals, broken up with a few days/weeks of 200 or less. It is extraordinary to admit, but for the first time in months, I like my husband again. I feel... happy. Lets hope it lasts.
Bless to all,
S xx
When I returned home, my husband picked me up from the airport, drove me home and then proceeded to fuck me sideways. I guess he must have missed me. We ended up talking for hours about his infidelity, past issues and expectations for our marriage. His honesty was refreshing, not to mention incredibly reassuring. It was then that he sprung the inevitible question on me... "Honey, how come you're losing weight so fast? You're not... doing anything stupid are you?" Poor sweet blossom. Yes, darling, yes I am doing something stupid. But like I'm going to tell him that. I trotted out the same line I used on my therapist. I need control, I need to take charge of my life and regain my independence, opportunities and self-worth. I need to be thin to have those things. He nodded sagely then asked what I have to do to get there. I told him I was going to fast for a week. He said ok. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I guess this is his way of saying sorry. (At least, that's how I choose to interpret it!)
But it was his next question which floored me... "So when do I have to get worried about you? How skinny do you need to be before I have to check you into the psych ward?" I'm sure I heard a chorus of angels singing songs of heavenly praise! So I told him if I dropped below 52kg that would be below a BMI of 20. What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right? I warned him that I might look skinner than other girls at this weight because I've got such heavy bones and muscles... lie lie lie... He swallowed it all up with a sigh of happiness. I fed it to him with a sigh of happiness. And there we lay, together in our happiness, me in my madness, him in his ignorance. T'was the the most blissful moment.
So, now I am free to restrict my intake how I please and say that I'm still in the 'healthy' range. No questions asked. This month will be beautiful, 500 or less cals, broken up with a few days/weeks of 200 or less. It is extraordinary to admit, but for the first time in months, I like my husband again. I feel... happy. Lets hope it lasts.
Bless to all,
S xx
Thursday, September 2, 2010
"The time has come," the Walrus said...
Today I break my fast. At least that's what I'm telling myself. Today is also the day I separate myself from the security of internet access and by proxy - you.
I'd like to acknowledge a couple of people who are making this little journey of mine easier. First, a shout out to Wren, who taught me the value of being connected - thank you for the heads up on linking my blog and profile to my follower thingy. Secondly to Lola Rose, who, while she is far away, has helped me set a new goal for this month. Last but not least, I'd like to acknowledge the kind words of 100% To Die For, which have truly helped me connect with this community.
I've decided that for this month, I will keep my intake at 500 or less. If I have a binge day, then I will fast accordingly, depending on how bad the binge was! This weekend will be the first test of many and I anticipate more than one bumpy day/weekend/week... But the reward... that sweet, unctuous high! The blessed release and freedom I feel when I'm empty. 'Tis worth the work and then some.
My scales showed another loss this morning - 0.7kg. Not bad, not as much as I would have liked, but it's still going in the right direction. I'm also taking my runners to Melbourne with me in the hope that, despite the weather, I'll be able to sneak in an early morning run before the girls start on me. We shall see. I'll smile, play the games and dance the dance. For the time has come... I shall speak of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and Kings, of why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings, but I shall not speak of food.
Bless to all,
S xx
I'd like to acknowledge a couple of people who are making this little journey of mine easier. First, a shout out to Wren, who taught me the value of being connected - thank you for the heads up on linking my blog and profile to my follower thingy. Secondly to Lola Rose, who, while she is far away, has helped me set a new goal for this month. Last but not least, I'd like to acknowledge the kind words of 100% To Die For, which have truly helped me connect with this community.
I've decided that for this month, I will keep my intake at 500 or less. If I have a binge day, then I will fast accordingly, depending on how bad the binge was! This weekend will be the first test of many and I anticipate more than one bumpy day/weekend/week... But the reward... that sweet, unctuous high! The blessed release and freedom I feel when I'm empty. 'Tis worth the work and then some.
My scales showed another loss this morning - 0.7kg. Not bad, not as much as I would have liked, but it's still going in the right direction. I'm also taking my runners to Melbourne with me in the hope that, despite the weather, I'll be able to sneak in an early morning run before the girls start on me. We shall see. I'll smile, play the games and dance the dance. For the time has come... I shall speak of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and Kings, of why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings, but I shall not speak of food.
Bless to all,
S xx
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Sweet disposition
I cannot express enough how much I love the feeling of fasting. To wake up, feeling that sweet emptiness and knowing that I have have maintained control over my basic animal instincts. To know that all around me, others have succumbed to the allure of calories, when I have not. 'Tis such a rush.
I saw my counsellor last night, who spent much of our time listening to me rant and rave about foundations of relationships, past wrongs, failures and lessons learned. Finally at the conclusion of our session he asked me what I was doing to look after myself. How do I keep myself from spiralling into madness and self-destruction... I nearly laughed out loud... I couldn't exactly tell him that I've restricted my calorie intake to less than 200 per day, or that I spend as much time as possible burning those 200 calories off. I was truthful in my answer though, I seize control of the little things in my life. Clean up the messy room. Re-organise the pantry, work out harder on my exercice machine, scream, yell, howl at the moon, blog my anxieties away... All that jazz. He was happy with my response and told me that my reactions and feelings were healthy and normal. Another almost laugh out loud moment. It was very difficult to keep the grin from escaping my traitourous lips, but I was on a super high after that. Exactly why, I'm not sure, but I drove home on cloud 9. Then this morning, my scales reflected my mood. A loss. A sweet, beautiful loss! 2kg begone!! Oh ana, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways!
Today is the last day of my liquid fast. I know that I'm supposed to break it tomorrow at lunch with my husband, but I just don't want to. I'm supposed to get on a plane and spend a weekend of excess with my girlfriends, but I just don't want to. I want to bliss-bathe. I want to revel in the feeling of an empty belly and see the numbers go down on my scales. I know I have to re-connect with the rest of the world, but here in this virtual bubble, life seems so much better. Here I have a sweet disposition. I am a happy, charming, graceful beauty with not a care in the world. A feather... Outside of it I am none of those things. 'Tis my downfall. But still I persist.
I am afraid of what the weekend holds. Afraid of what excesses I will need to go to to hide my lack of everything else. Afraid of what my scales will tell me upon my return. Afraid of being alone, unable to connect with my support network, succumbing to temptation. In a feeble attempt to keep my head held high, I'm planning on really pushing the fluids whilst I'm away. Keeping a bottle with me always, at least to give the illusion of consuming. Keep the questions at bay. It will be difficult, being in such close quarters with people who are so interested in everything you do... *sigh* I guess only time will tell if I am successful or not, and so will I.
Bless to all,
S xx
I saw my counsellor last night, who spent much of our time listening to me rant and rave about foundations of relationships, past wrongs, failures and lessons learned. Finally at the conclusion of our session he asked me what I was doing to look after myself. How do I keep myself from spiralling into madness and self-destruction... I nearly laughed out loud... I couldn't exactly tell him that I've restricted my calorie intake to less than 200 per day, or that I spend as much time as possible burning those 200 calories off. I was truthful in my answer though, I seize control of the little things in my life. Clean up the messy room. Re-organise the pantry, work out harder on my exercice machine, scream, yell, howl at the moon, blog my anxieties away... All that jazz. He was happy with my response and told me that my reactions and feelings were healthy and normal. Another almost laugh out loud moment. It was very difficult to keep the grin from escaping my traitourous lips, but I was on a super high after that. Exactly why, I'm not sure, but I drove home on cloud 9. Then this morning, my scales reflected my mood. A loss. A sweet, beautiful loss! 2kg begone!! Oh ana, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways!
Today is the last day of my liquid fast. I know that I'm supposed to break it tomorrow at lunch with my husband, but I just don't want to. I'm supposed to get on a plane and spend a weekend of excess with my girlfriends, but I just don't want to. I want to bliss-bathe. I want to revel in the feeling of an empty belly and see the numbers go down on my scales. I know I have to re-connect with the rest of the world, but here in this virtual bubble, life seems so much better. Here I have a sweet disposition. I am a happy, charming, graceful beauty with not a care in the world. A feather... Outside of it I am none of those things. 'Tis my downfall. But still I persist.
I am afraid of what the weekend holds. Afraid of what excesses I will need to go to to hide my lack of everything else. Afraid of what my scales will tell me upon my return. Afraid of being alone, unable to connect with my support network, succumbing to temptation. In a feeble attempt to keep my head held high, I'm planning on really pushing the fluids whilst I'm away. Keeping a bottle with me always, at least to give the illusion of consuming. Keep the questions at bay. It will be difficult, being in such close quarters with people who are so interested in everything you do... *sigh* I guess only time will tell if I am successful or not, and so will I.
Bless to all,
S xx
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