Monday, November 30, 2015

I hate my stomach

When I was younger and my disorder first started, I hated my legs. I thought thin legs meant being skinny. Like that was the meaning of being skinny. Having tiny legs. I did sit ups because that's just what people with eating disorders do. Or that's what I told myself anyway.
But I hate my stomach. I hate the stretch marks. I hate how big it is. I want to cry when I change. I don't want to live like this anymore.
I want the head rush. I want the excuses. I want to be able to starve my ass off again. Right now, I just want to cry because I feel like such a failure. I want it back. I want to eat there. I don't want to eat and eat. I'm so tired of it. I'm so tired of the excuses I make. I'm so tired of being fat. I'm just so sick of it. I want to cry. I want to feel my ribs and hip bones. I want to know if I can do that just one more sit up. I want people who will push me and push me. I'm tired of letting myself down.
I want ana friends. I'm tired of doing this alone. I want people who will talk to me, remind me of moments like this where I felt low. Remind me of times when I felt like I could do it all. I want to text people who will remind me to stay thin. I feel like I'm screaming into a void
Much Love,
I need a plan. I need to figure out a routine. I need to figure out how to get this weight off.
Alright, everyday, for now, I'm going to do ten burpees and go for at least a thirty minute walk and do two ten minute sessions of yoga (yoga only holds my attention for about ten minutes at a time). The internets says that that should be about 290. Not quite enough. I need to do more. There needs to be more. There needs to be a way.

Saturday, November 28, 2015


I hope thanksgiving wasn't too bad for everyone in the States. I think I did rather very well. I'm a vegetarian, so a lot of the foods are off limits anyway. Of course, that doesn't mean I have to go easy on the foods that I can eat. I did, though. I don't understand the whole eating until you might burst thing. I like feeling a little bit of room still in my tummy.
I'm trying my hardest to be good, though, now that Thanksgiving is over. I just get really hungry sometimes, and I don't know what even to eat.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

So far so good

My net calories for today is less than 300. I broke out the WiiFit again and burned off about 70 calories. I feel like it should have been more than that. I was working on it for nineteen whole minutes. It's just rough. And now all I want is a nap. I've lived off of coffee for today. And oatmeal. With peaches. It's been a blast, though.
So tired.
Much love,

Morning Coffee

I didn't get to sleep until four last night. I didn't wake up until ten this morning.
I weighed myself late last night. 197.2
It's slowly coming down.
Not like I would like, though.
Needs to come down faster.
The girl in the picture above has her knees turned inward, creating a bigger gap. It's cut off, so I think she was trying to hide that. You can also tell that her butt is pushed out a little. I don't know why I'm explaining this to you guys.
I have to go eat something. Latuda says to take it with food.
I think I want oatmeal with peaches...and cinnamon. That sounds good.
Much love,

Dark and Twisty.

Hi, lovelies.
Again, sorry for the lack of picture, I'm on my phone again.
Things are going to get really dark for me for a while. I ran out of Prozac and since there was a mess up with Wal-Mart I have zero money. Things are a little dark with it, but they get real dark without it.
I keep telling myself that today will be the day that I starve. Of course it never is. I need to get my willpower back. My self-esteem is low enough. I need this control. I need to feel hard bones hitting soft mattresses.
Oh, it may be nothing, but there's a lump in my boob. It might be a lymph node, swollen from being sick. It might be cancer. My worries say cancer. Either way, I'm not sure. No one has properly let me worry about it out loud, though, so it still is lingering in the back of my mind. Like all of the time.
I want to be teeny ballerina thin. I don't want to be to the point that people worry. That's when you get caught. I also wanna do lots of yoga and be really flexible. I wanna be able to wear whatever I want. Am I repeating myself?
I saw that a lot of people saw my last post. Thanks a bunches for reading. Feel free to comment too. I don't bite!
My rib cage is deformed. I used to do something called cosplay where you dress up as characters from shows or books. I used to like to dress as guy characters. And the only way I knew how to bind was with ACE wraps. Don't do that. Really bad for you.
Alright, I feel a little better getting to indulge my disorder, and keeping you guys updated. It feels nice to have people who understand.
Much love,

Thursday, November 19, 2015

It's late and I am not alright.

Sorry for the lack of thinspo on this one, princesses. I'm typing this from my phone.
It's two thirty in the morning and I'm slipping.
I want to feel my hip bones, my spine, my rib cage.
Do you want to know something disgusting?
I weight almost 200 pounds.
I'm only 5'5".
What happened to dreams of being 114?
What happened to me?
I feel like I fail at everything right now.
I want to feel the carve of my bones jutting out. I want people to ask what I do to look so good. I just want to lose a little weight. A lottle weight. OK a huge bunch of weight. I want people to text when I want to eat. I want to go back to the roots of my coffee addiction.
I still drink my coffee black. It makes me a little anxious to drink anything in it.
I want people who support my weight loss no matter what path I choose to get there. I want people who understand that sometimes you have to starve yourself to feel whole again.
I feel alone even though I have people who love me because I don't have people who will let me do it. Or who will push me to do the best with it that I can. Maybe I'm just tired.
Maybe I'm just sick of everything being too far to reach. Nothing is in my control anymore.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015


I am nineteen years old.
Today, I decided that I want to be a Psychiatrist.
To be a Psychiatrist, I have to have almost the same education as a doctor.
I have to have a GPA higher than I have.
When I called my mom for her advice, she told me to work 15 hours a week and to take 12 credit hours (the minimum for full time).
My eating disorder has been biting at the edge of my mind.
Everyone says to keep myself physically and mentally healthy.
My fiancee told me not to vent about my mom to her unless I plan on doing something about.
I've come to the conclusion that my mom is emotionally abusive.
I want a parent that believes in me as much I do.
The one thing I can control is, well, my weight. It's the one thing that I know I've had bring me confidence. And if I can't vent, I internalize.
So here we go again. Pounds and exercise and calories.
Numbers and hours and time. Days and pain.