Good evening to those reading this!
If i were to think about an ideal blog, it would resemble a bowl of fruit - something you want to tuck in to. However i worry that these are reading like crackers - very stale reading indeed. These are as much for you as me so keep me posted if my whining over work is making you want to carve your arm off or something...hopefully not that extreme!
Facts of the day:
- lost 1lb
- purged 3 times
- ran 3 miles
If this were some 'fairytale' ideal of an eating disorder - the sort that vulnerable people believe in before tripping through the Wonderland mirror and realising it isn't like that in a world revolving around food and you are actually The Mad Hatter - i would start something like this: 'I did really well today - i lived on cool, clean air and only drank enough water to fill a teaspoon. My body feels light and i get blown around on a breeze all day. I hardly think about food because i never eat it'.
Haha! That ISN'T a real disorder - it's what we all imagine, and continue to try and achieve, even if somewhere in us we know it isn't true. Today for me has been far from 'clean' and 'tidy'.
As we enter the white rabbit's house, we enter into my eating disordered head. Let me show you round my day...
1. Bedroom: You wake and worry that if you don't immediately weigh yourself you will miraculously put on 7lbs. Weighing every morning feels like touching base in a game of cricket or baseball, if you reach (sometimes streching your fingertips so hard) and touch base on the next lb down then you are safe and cannot go up again. I get dressed, drowning myself in fabric that needs tucking here, and pulling there. My top is a size too big for me, but i don't care.
2. Morning Room: I notice that my legs look particularly huge again today, and avoid the waiting box of milk tray on the staff table. I spend half the morning debating one chocolate as i walk up and down the office. I probably worked it off with all the walking but my mind broke it down like a mechanical drawing, pointing out the dangers with big red arrows. I popped open my box of 15 blueberries and sucked on them instead.
3. Closet: I'm not really ready for my eating disorder to come out of it yet, but someone started to prise open the door. I sat with a collegue who has been very astute, far too astute, in noticing how fast i'm dropping weight. In fact, she noticed i had lost weight when i was still obese! She asked me if i was eating ok, i replied with a cheery 'oh yes' and slapped on a smile. That's when she said, in a non threatening way, that she would be keeping an eye on me....
hmm - thank god we are reaching an 8 week holiday! I can lose weight in peace without others with misconceptions that they know what the hell i'm actually doing, trying to interfere.
4. Swing: 'If i can just get down another 18lbs then it won't matter if they notice', 'please, i'll do anything if they can just stay oblivious until i reach 2 BMI points lower'. The constant mathematics of weight, days and calories that swim around my head are always formulating in semi-religious pleas to thin air. But when something goes right, the air gets thanked. You become obsessive like a star tennis player on a winning streak - if you lose a lb, you continue to down a box of ducolax, bulk buy those blueberries and for gods sake don't forget to wear your socks on backwards! I'm on a blueberry and purge everything streak.
5. Dinning room: I go for lunch, which turns into a quick shop for a smaller pair of trousers and more binge food. The trousers are a squeeze, but it's so close to the holidays that i convince myself i will get into them by the time they are over - only a couple of inches to loose. I get frustrated that another pair of same size bottoms makes my stomach look like its breaking from a dam and cameltoes my arse. Great, i think sarcastically, i'll have to loose another couple of inches before i can SAFELY and OFFICIALLY fit into the next size down.
I nip into a posh chocolate shop - expensive chocolate is so much more interesting to eat. I have a fascination with inventive food, i just don't like the risk of where it goes after. Give me extra fine individually picked cocoa from the belguim borders, but don't ask me to let it go further south than my oesophagus please! I intended to keep the chocolate for my burgeoning collection of binge foods back home.
6. Bathroom: Predictably, the bathroom always follows the dinning room. I hid again, and this time i had tempting treats with me. I denied myself so long, and i can't even remember what broke it eventually. I remember pushing the little cream balls in my mouth and realising they had alcohol in them. Crap! Not only do i think alcohol spoils the chocolate taste, but it can taste foul and sting like buggery on the return journey back up. I quickly shoved both packets of chocolate into my chomping mouth and spewed into the toilet. Problem is, everytime you have a drink to get rid of the bitting taste of acid and alcohol in your mouth, your body wants to purge again. Eventually when the water had turned bright yellow - a signal i need that i'm on the acid layer of my purge cake, i stop.
A group of girls comes in, at the same time as a cleaner. S**t! I wait a bit longer and think the cleaner might have gone. She would definitely have noticed the one long-engaged toilet to the right. It's quiet, the girls have left. I flush again and make my way out, she is still waiting out there. I cannot hide my 'staff' badge and quickly wash my hands, unable to miss the rustle as she picks up something from the floor. Was it evidence of my binge? My wrappers? - i had pushed the chocolate packets in the sanitary dispenser. She'd probably find them soon too. I take one quick look behind before zooming out the door, keen to put a big distance between myself and that cleaner for a while at least.
7. Bell Jar: Finally the end of the day comes...very slowly. On the way home, Mum keeps patting my leg and telling me she loves me. I'm not sure what to do, i want to get out of this emotionally smoked environment. I only touh her back once and try to smile it off. It makes me uncomfortable and my head buzz with questions - how much does she know? what has she seen? what has she read? All i know is, i want to get inside her head and erase any speck of suspicion on her mind. It frightens me, she can't know yet.
8. Garden: Mum debates whether to go straight to the gym or not. I stay impartial until we are almost at the door, when i suggest she goes straight there. She does leaving me in an empty house like my head had anticipated. Binge no. 2 - 4 mini cheese scones with butter, 3 vieneisse truffles. Like i have said before, i don't do big binges because i have become afraid that i won't be able to get it all back up and that i will retain too many calories. I began to eat a millionaire shortbread but stopped myself because it didn't taste that nice and my mind went 'is it worth it given that you would retain some calories and have to purge all those tiny crumbs back up?'. It wasn't - i threw the biscuit away and spat the rest into the bin. I ran upstairs and purged it all away. I hear my stepdad come back, too early - i'm not yet satisfied i got it all out. When i can't get any more out, i go for a run. I am VERY disappointed with my run today - only 3 miles. I usually do 4-5 miles, 6 if i'm feeling good. Today is a poor effort on my part, but all i could feel on the way round was the acid rolling up and down my neck. I pushed hard, working each mile, feeling my legs ache, i wanted the food gone. I beat my fastest mile lap time by 2 minutes and burnt off the calories i might not have completely purged out.
9. Kitchen: Back home and tea is being planned. As all the family is around, it's another one i cannot escape. Quorn chilli is on the menu and i shrug looking indifferent, mentally i tell myself i will purge it as well. We eat rice and chilli, i help myself to some crisps and dip because i now know i am going to get rid of it afterwards. Everyone looks pleased. I follow it up with a lolly. I worry mum is trying to keep me downstairs, but eventually i am allowed to go.
10. Outhouse: Purge no. 3 takes place but i am less than happy with this one. I can still taste the chilli in my breath. I weigh again and it is passable, although not good enough to guarantee being on goal tomorrow. I take 5 ducolax laxitives and settle down to a night of craps and toilet dashes. I know as well as most well-researched bulimics/anorexics/bulimarexics that laxitives only get rid of water weight and 10% of consumed calories. You know what - I DONT CARE. The reason i'm doing it is because i MUST get to my goal for tomorrow, and prevent weight gain. If this means getting there, i'll bloody well take it and more.
So, i'm so tired and i know i'll be awake in about 4 hours stumbling towards the toilet.
I am so close now to the next goal, i cannot fail. Please leave comments and/or thumbs, i look at them when i am in the toilet needing some support usually.
Wish me 4am luck!
Poppy xox
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