Stop the Fucking Presses

I lost a tenth of a pound.

My God, I hate my scale.  I do SO well, and I lose a tenth of a fucking pound.  At this rate, I'll never be skinny.  Motherfucker.

I managed to accomplish a bunch from my list, though, so that's good.

I'm rotting at work for 12 hours today, so that's bad.

I puked at work this morning, also bad.  Puked up massive amounts of stomach acid and bile at that.

Ate a bunch of Tums, and still feel like garbage.  I HATE bile.  The neon yellow color amuses me, I admit.  It freaks me right the fuck out that something THAT color comes out of my body.  But, Jesus fuck does it burn and taste like death.  And it lingers... I tossed baking soda in my mouth for a bit, and a coworker (who I told I was sick... Feel kinda bad about that...) went to buy me the Tums.

Feh.

RECIPE: Zucchini Rollatini

Aren't they adorable?!

They're easy, too, like Sunday morning.  Mmmm, mmm.

Here's how to make these bite-sized treats.

Ingredients:

• 2 medium zucchini
• 2 T Tofutti Better Than Cream Cheese
• 2 T sundried tomato spread
• Salt, pepper, Italian herbs, etc.

Directions:

1. Trim the ends, and slice your zucchini into lengthwise strips.  (I got 5 strips from each squash, and I used a mandolin.)
2. Saute them in a non-stick frying pan.  Spray it with a little non-stick cooking spray if needed.  Season as you wish. Remove from heat when they are floppy.
3. Combine BTCC and sundried tomato spread, and then plop a teaspoon or so on each zucchini strip.  Spread, and roll 'em up!

YIELDS TWO SERVINGS

Alternately, you can grill the zucchini, or bake it in the oven.  The filling is entirely up to you too.  As a vegan, I don't have the option of fat free cream cheese.  Or any cheese for that matter!  So if you feel like going with some fat free feta, fat free cream cheese, or something else entirely, have at it!

But, for mine, the nutritional information for one serving (which is half of the recipe - 5 rolls in my case) is as follows...

To Do List

So I've actually got tomorrow OFF from work.  Praise... whatever wants praise.

Here's what I need to do:

• paint my toenails
• purchase a jumbo muffin tin
• design out 800-calorie daily meal plans
• purchase whatever I need for said plans
• do laundry (clothes and linens)
• clean my stupid room
• clear out my closet

Yeah, I've settled on 800 calorie days.  I dunno, it just seems... Appropriate right now.  Low enough so that I lose weight, but high enough that I don't stall out. If I eat less, whatever.  If I eat more, I'll fucking kill myself.  Ditto if I purge.  I really gotta knock that off.

Let's see what I can get done...

And Now I Feel Like Hell...

A few minutes ago, The Ex emailed me. 

I'd been bugging him about the stupidly large amount of money he owed me. I gave it to him, YEARS into our relationship (I emphasize that so no one thinks I was being stupid.  There are plenty of reasons to think I'm stupid, yes, but I don't think this is one of them.)  We were saving it for me to move in with him.  So, yeah, I gave him a bunch of money. 

Which, I'm fairly certain, he used to move in with another woman, all the way across the country.

He hasn't told me any of that, I've just deduced it because I'm brilliant.  (He spent years underestimating me.  I'll admit, I let him.  But he should knock that off now.  I know where he is, I know who he's with.  He thinks I know nothing.  Ha fucking ha.)

I haven't told him I know, either. I'm waiting until I get my money back before indulging in any taunting or scare tactics.

In any case, he just emailed me apologizing, saying he doesn't have his laptop anymore (buh?  liar...) so he needed my new address again, and he will send my money out next week. 

I shot off an email that consisted of my new address, and absolutely nothing more.  No hello, no goodbye, nada.

And for some reason... I feel like absolute hell. 

I dunno.  Maybe it's because I just ate rice (and threw it up).  Maybe it's because I realize he is off somewhere, happy finally, because he's not with me.  Maybe it's because I'm thinking of all the shitty lies he told me when he broke up with me.  I think, somewhere in his twisted brain, he did it for two reasons.  One, because he thought it would be easier for himself.  And two, because he thought I was too fragile to handle the truth and would probably collapse and freak out and kill myself if he just told the truth (which probably ties back to reason #1.  It might be a pain in the ass for him if I had killed myself and named him somewhere in my suicide note.  I swear to God, that probably crossed his mind, the complete prick.)

And, whatever.  He's a shitbag. I gave him more than I've ever given another human being - I gave him different things than I've ever given anyone else.  And I just... I lost them.  They stayed with him, and they are gone now.  I am hollowed out, and there is nothing to fill that void.  It's depressing, mostly because I realize HE can't even fill his own void, so I can't sit around obsessing over getting him back and having a happily ever after.  Because he's not who I thought he was.  I know too much now to ever TRULY want him back.

So I'm empty.

I don't want to exist as I am, and I'm scared I won't ever exist another way.

I need to lose weight.  A bunch of weight.  Nothing good will ever happen in my life, I won't have the confidence to seek anything good, and no one will ever stay with me if I'm not thin.  I don't give a shit how emo or stupid or hyperbolic that sounds.  It's the simple fucking truth.  I am fat - not "Oh, I'm skinny, but I FEEL fat!" or anything.  But I'm ACTUALLY fat.  My BMI and my clothing say so.  And it needs to change. I used to be thin.  I used to be too thin. I mean, I've been called scrawny before. (Not that I believed the person at the time... But still.  I don't hear that shit anymore, and for good reason.)

I want to be like that again.  And then?  I want to be even smaller.

I have nothing else to aim for now.

At least, I have nothing else legal to aim for - I have plenty of homicidal fantasies. :)

To... I Went with "TO"

The timeless question of "to binge or not to binge" has been answered with a resounding "TO BINGE!"

Fuck everything.

I ate six waffles and half a pint of coconut milk ice cream, puked it all back up, and decided I hated myself, and threw away the rest of the food I had purchased.  After I had poured dish soap on it, because you better believe when I'm in binge-mode I am not above pulling food out of the trash.

Then I watched a movie, was startled by my father appearing at my condo unanounced (he's good like that), pleaded with him to take back the check he wrote out to me (he refused, he's also good like that) and then came to work.  I'll be here straight through the night and into tomorrow morning.  At which point I have to visit our main offices and turn in financial paperwork for audit.

Then I have to go home, for like 4 hours, and then... wait for it... go the fuck back to work.

Fuck everything twice.

Tomorrow I'm gonna fast again.  (Companionably!)

And... You know... When I fast, I do have to talk myself down from eating a few times a day.  Mainly when I'm working.  Because when I'm working, I am surrounded by food-obsessed people, and I have to prepare, cut, chop, plate, pack, plan, and otherwise immerse myself in FOOD for them all day long.  

But at the end of those days... After I haven't eaten and everyone else has... 

I go to bed, and I'm pleased. 

I smile, and it feels real.

To Binge or Not to Binge

Well, I "fasted" yesterday.

(I had a strange dream about tourists too, but I imagine that's beside the point.)

I had low-cal crap like Crystal Light and flavored water stuff.  But I also had a glass of unsweetened almond milk, and one of iced tea which was sweetened. That's why I put quotes around fasting. I know it's not really.  But I didn't eat any food, so, yeah. I skipped psyllium husks today too, but if I fast again today, I'll take 'em... 

I might also binge/purge massively today.  Part of me just thinks "Hey, why not?"

It's the first day in AGES I'm by myself for a significant chunk of the day - a solid 7 or 8 hours.  I haven't binged in quite some time.  (I've purged, but only small amounts of food...)

I KNOW I shouldn't.  I know it's terrible for me.  I know it's painful.  I know I won't be able to clear everything from my stomach, no matter how much I purge.  I know I'll end up bloated, with a wildly higher number on the scale tomorrow.  

I know. 

I know.

I know.

I just... I want to. 

I need to conquer the urge.  Because the desire to do it is stronger than the knowledge that I'll regret it tomorrow.

Selfish Love

I'm creaming my pants over Miyavi today.

I do this, off and on, every few months.

I have the strangest taste in men.

And I don't mean that because Miyavi is unattractive or anything - he's stunning.  Just that, if you could see my ex, you'd probably break your brain trying to reconcile how I could date that guy and simultaneously find Miyavi attractive as all get out.

One of the most accurate things ever said about me is that I am a "woman of extremes."

It's very clearly true when it comes to my taste in men.  I like brutal, tough, manly men who ooze testosterone from their thick five o'clock shadows.   (The ex was one of those.  He was Spanish-Italian, a former Marine, rock steady, RAWR! type.)  In that same vein, I can get behind (underneath?) slightly-less-than-brutal types if they are, say, sociopathic serial killers. (SHUT UP DON'T JUDGE ME!)

My heart gets all aflutter at the thought of Dexter (from "Dexter") killin' people...  Seriously, he puts on his "killing clothes" (see below) and I need a cold shower pronto, bitches.

...or Sylar (from "Heroes") being all honey badger about shit. He tried to be a good guy for a while, then was like, "You know what?  Being an awesome murderer is way better.  Screw you guys, I'm going home homicidal." SYLAR DON'T CARE!  And you bet your ass I wanted him to rip my skull open and dig into my gray matter.  *trembles*

I ALSO feel that special tingle for ultra-androgynous men.  Mostly musicians, as it happens.

Like Miyavi. 

(young, girly) Brian Molko. 

(Libertines cover-era) Carl Barât

I dunno, man. I have issues ALL over the place. I can't just pick one thing and go with it.  I have to be DIFFICULT.



Oh, right, food.  I ate some of it today.  And then I threw it back up because, srsly, fuck that.

I give up.  I'm going to just attempt fasting tomorrow, and see if that makes me feel any calmer.  Because this whole "eating stuff even though I don't want to and then puking it up" crap is getting old.


I'mma go take a bunch of psyllium husks and explode my belly while I listen to Kara's Flowers and remember what Maroon 5 sounded like before they were famous. Woo!

Ballz

If I had balls, I'd be sweating them off right this minute.

First time in a while I'm glad I'm sleeping alone - I swear if I had to sleep in a bed with someone else's body heat tonight, I'd harm them in unspeakable ways.

I gained weight, according to the cunty scale lurking in the bathroom.

This may be because I purged what little I ate the past couple days and that makes me retain water, BUT STILL.  That scale needs to be spoken to - it's clearly a douche.

Having my laptop on my actual lap is a bad, bad, BAD idea.  My pretend balls are even sweatier now.

I'm really just... Feeling kinda shittastic.

I'm a chubby, sweaty, fat, ugly, overweight mess. Blaaaaah.


I really want to fast.  I love fasting.  Not a technical fast, since I would be taking in calories in the form of Crystal Light, vinegar, psyllium husks, and broth... But still.  MY version of fasting.  My last real fast was a LONG time ago.  But I love the permanent lump that forms in my throat.  I love how intense my sense of smell gets.  I love the lightheaded, burning, insane passion of fasting.

Maybe I will.

Hrmmm....

Pigface

Let me preface this by listing my intake today...

So, honestly?  Not bad!  Under 400 calories, and 5.5 grams of fat.  I should be pleased.

I mean, I am pleased.  I feel good about WHAT I ate. 

I feel fucking miserable about HOW I ate it.

Breakfast was fine.  I ate my little soy yogurt slowly, indulgently.  I savored the smooth texture and the bright, fresh, clean taste. I was proud of eating breakfast, which is something I have struggled to do. I didn't race to get more food when I was finished with the yogurt.  I didn't feel gross, or guilty, or giant.  I felt... Pretty good, actually.

Lunch, however, was a complete fucking MESS. I decided I wanted something sweet, so I was going to attempt to make little low-calorie popcorn balls.  I popped a 100-calorie bag of 94% FF kettle corn, and I stirred together a two tablespoons each of Walden Farms marshmallow and caramel dips.  I sprinkled in a quarter of a package of FF/SF pudding mix, and started mixing it into the popcorn.  

And... All of a sudden, I just... I inhaled it.  With the spoon I was using to stir, I gobbled it.  Straight out of the mixing bowl, I shoveled it into my mouth.  I felt ILL about 2/3 of the way through, and then I wanted to throw it out.  But I didn't.  I made myself eat it.  

It was pretty much self-torture.

My stomach roiled for the next few hours, too.  The sickly-sweet chemical awfulness of the Walden Farms SHIT (yes, I called it shit, and I will still use it, tyvm, I suck) felt nasty as all hell.

But I got back on my feet, so to speak.

Dinner was simple, calm, matter-of-fact, good.  I enjoyed my small Garden Lites frozen meal at work, at the dinner table with one of my employees and two of the girls we support.  They ate pizza - a food I LOVED to binge on - and I ate my super-healthy, delicious little meal (which, okay, looks a lot more like a side-dish to the people I work with, a-p-p-a-r-e-n-t-l-y.  Hmph.) 

But... I still feel like I was a pig today.  I lost control for a few moments.  I guess not totally - it's not like I ate anything I didn't plan... I ate exactly what I planned. But I didn't eat it like I wanted to.  I ate like a fucking pig.  It was massively disappointing.

I keep picturing a face in my mind.  It's what keeps me going, keeps my hatred surging and my weight shrinking.  

I hate that face.  I will USE it, because of how badly it has used me.

RECIPE: Sweet Roasted Brussels Sprouts

I think these are YUM!  I was never a big Brussels sprouts eater, and always found them kinda gross.  But I was messing around with a couple recipes using them and figured this one.  I am absolutely in LOVE!

(Isn't it weird they are called BrusselS sprouts?  I always thought it was Brussel sprouts. I was wrong!)

Anyway, here's what you are here to see...

Ingredients:

• 16 oz fresh Brussels Sprouts
• 1/4 cup Walden Farms pancake syrup (fat free, sugar free, and "calorie free")
• sea salt and fresh ground pepper, to taste

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees and line a cookie sheet with parchment paper
2. Trim off the ends and any loose leaves from the sprouts and then cut them in half lengthwise and put them in a mixing bowl.
3. Toss the sprouts in the syrup and season with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
4. Put them in an even, single layer on the parchment paper and roast in the oven for 15 minutes.  (Save the extra syrup in the bottom of the mixing bowl!)  
5. Remove sprouts remove from oven, drizzle on the extra syrup, and toss them around on the sheet, returning them to a single layer.  Bake for an additional 5-10 minutes, or until lightly browned.

YIELDS TWO SERVINGS

PLEASE NOTE: Nutritional information is for ONE serving. 
And it's based on the 13 oz of usable sprouts I got after trimming!

The One Where I Whine and Give TMI

I'm sweating.

It's 82 degrees in my room right now, and I'm friggin HOT.  Every inch of my skin feels stick and nasty and GROSS. I am disgusted.

I also want to poo and I can't.  Pooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

I've got at least six servings of whole psyllium husks cruisin' around my intestines at the moment.  I took two servings last night, and four tonight, and nothing has come outta my bum.  COME ON, MUCILAGINOUS INDIGESTIBLE FIBER!!!  You can poo do it!

I love psyllium husks.  They taste nasty, have the most disgusting consistency when mixed with water (swallowing them is a gargantuan act of willpower), but they bulk right up in your tummy, are totally indigestible, and keep you intestines working normally even if you're fasting.

Anyway, I damn well better poo tomorrow and then get on the scale and see lower numbers again, kthnx.

I should probably try to sleep, but I've never slept in a sauna before and I don't know if it's going to happen tonight.  I suppose the heat from my laptop isn't helping...

FINE.  I'll turn it off.

G'night to no one...

(Lame, typing that made me sad.)_

Binge-y

I ate nothing until I got home tonight, around 5:30pm.  

Then I ate strawberries and brussels sprouts.  Then my stupid, calorie-deprived body asked for more.  I sat for a moment, thought about it, and then approved, telling myself I really did need to eat more.  So I had 416 calories worth of mini-pita breads, sugar-free jam, and "Better N Peanut Butter."

Now, in reality, my total calories for the day would have been 562.  Which, I realize, most people wouldn't consider epic.  (Actually, most people wouldn't even consider it dinner.)

It was terrible, for me.  Terrible. I wanted to be okay with it, but more than that, I wanted it out of my stomach. I spent about two minutes trying to Keep It Down because I NEED to eat at least 800 calories a day, omg.  Then I went and puked everything up - all strawberry red, brussels sprouts green, and pita/PB brown.  And then I cried about that lapse.  Lovely.

I think now I'm going to take a double dose of psyllium husks (I don't have to be at work until tomorrow afternoon!) and hope they will soak up a few of the remaining calories in my belly, and will clear out my digestive tract. 

The scale was kind this morning.  I hope it's kind again tomorrow.

I just... I don't know.  I need to find some balance.  I came very close to fasting today, and had to force the strawberries on myself.  Then I got hungry, and I ate more.  I don't like that.  I just want to feel empty, not hungry.  

I want to fast. I wish I never had to eat, ever again.

But, shit, I really need to eat. I need a plan.  

Feh.  I'll plan later.  Right now, I'm going to down the psyllium husks and watch a movie. 

Eating R Hardz

I'm thinking I may actually devote an entire post to The Feeder, which may mean shortening my novel from earlier today, and put it into a Feeder post. :)

I talk a lot sometimes.

Okay, ALL the time.

I need to break it up. Woo.

So today, I went with the "just skip dinner altogether" option.  Figures.

That landed me with 196 kcals today (2.5 grams of fat --- 31 grams of carbs, with 13 of that fiber --- 17 grams of protein).

I have this master plan in my head where I'll start doing regular exercise and eat 1,000 - 1,200 calories a day, and be all healthy-ish about slimming down to a very-thin-but-not-sickly weight. And at my body size (I'm a wide-framed 5'11" FML) and the amount of running around I do at work (eeeeerrrrrgggghhhhh, I'm tired!) 1,000 - 1,200 calories plus exercise is still a restricted diet.  I would lose weight, no question.  I would technically probably be starving myself.

I say it.  I think it.  I just can't DO it.  Because even though it would spell success, it would feel too much like failure.

Lame.

So here was today for real:

Fun Fact: even though my eyelids are drooping right this very moment, once I lie down I'm probably going to be up half the night from the amount of diet Pepsi I've consumed today. And I've got a 13-hour shift tomorrow that starts at 8:00am. Everything is just stupid.  Or maybe just I am.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, Motherfucker

Oy.

I ate next to nothing yesterday (and the day before), and I puked up what I DID eat... Came home, and forced myself to ingest 2 T of whole psyllium husks with a buttload of water, and went to bed.  Woke up, shit out psyllium husks... And somehow gained 1.6lbs.

ONE POINT SIX FUCKING POUNDS.

I'm trying to convince myself it's because I still have psyllium husks, all bulked up with water, chillin' in my intestines.  It's not working.  It's because I ate that half a sandwich and I DIDN'T PLAN IT.  (Planning sandwiches make them have fewer calories?)

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

I hate everything.  I know I need to eat... Something, sometime.  But I just keep fantasizing about fasting. 

More than anything, I wish I could watch my flesh slide off, famine greasing my bones.

How emo and poetic.

Ergh.

I have to set SOME calorie goal. I just don't want to.  I want "fucking zero" to be my goal.  *sulk*

Okay, shit, here's what I'm going to do.  For today, I am planning out three "meals" and I WILL eat them, goddammit.  I will photograph everything I eat today, and post it here tonight when I get home. Accountability, woo!

So here is the PLAN for today...

Fingers crossed I can stick to it.  It's past 11AM and I'm STILL struggling through the strawberries.  I'd say I'm 2/3 of the way done with the fuckers, and I have to start cooking lunch (and dinner, since I need to bring it with me to work) already.

Oh, and in case you didn't read my dinner entry carefully enough...

***AWESOMENESS NOTE***

Tofu Shirataki Noodles!  

I am trying them for the first time today... But, hot damn, am I excited.  I know if I rinse them well enough and cook them properly, they should taste fine.  (They have an odd, fishy odor from the liquid they are packed in, apparently, and you gotta get rid of it.) 

But, omg, I can look like I'm eating a nice, appropriate portion of pasta for only TWENTY CALORIES!   The entire bag has 40 calories, 6 carbs (4 of which are fiber), and 1 gram of fat.  Hell yes.

In case you can't tell, I'm stoked. I don't care if they are horrid, honestly.  I would rather LOOK like I'm eating normally than FEEL like I'm eating normally anyhow. I'll report back with my findings later this evening.

I'm thinking about upping the psyllium husk intake as well.  The more of that stuff, the better, as far as I'm concerned.

Oh, and now that I'm all... Majorly obsessed and creepy and sick again... I have to admit I wish I had more people reading this.  I'm aware if I actually want that, it will involve is going to other blogs, posting comments, etc.  But I'm kind of lazy, and I have to admit - I haven't read ALL that many blogs of people with eating disorders, but they aren't all that interesting.  I suppose mine isn't either, though.

Ah well. :)



ETA:  Packed up my dinner, all cute... Took pictures, all cute... And carefully forgot it in the fridge when I left for work.  Christ.  So, dinner is going to have to be skipped, re-imagined, or eaten when I get home.  I REALLY don't want to eat it when I get home around 9:30pm, since I think I shouldn't have anything but psyllium husks after 7:00pm every day...  And I don't want to eat something else, unless it's fewer calories... I do want to skip it, though.  Just have some diet Pepsi and call it a night.

Unfortunately, the woman I am working with right now (she's the assistant manager, I am the manager - go me!) is a FEEDER.  She just... She FEEDS people.  She found out I like kale soup once and I swear to God, she had that shit for me in MASSIVE quantities several times a month. She went so far as to prepare two effing pots of it - one with meat and one without - and the second pot was ONLY for me because I'm the vegan... O_O

As an example of how she is even MORE of a feeder... I got myself a bowl of said vegan kale soup (the last of the pot) and left it on the counter for a minute while I got something else ready for one of the diasbled girls we support.  I came back and my bowl was gone.  I asked if anyone had seen it, and The Feeder gasped and said "Oh no, I thought you were in the middle of getting it ready for Eve (one of the girls)!  I finished getting it ready and gave it to her, I'm SO SORRY, ahhhhhhh!"  Like she had just shot my puppy by removing the chance for me to eat.  Like me not eating it was an issue of national security.  The very idea that I had been deprived of something I was planning to eat rocked her to her core.

FEEDER!

ALSO... She had added like 2 cups of meaty soup to my appropriately-sized bowl of vegan soup, and given it to Eve for dinner.  This other girl who was working said to me, "Oh my God, you had, like, a normal amount of soup in there for a meal and she doubled it for Eve!  She is such a FEEDER!"

(We all call her The Feeder.)

Clearly, I'll have to fire her. 

In-N-Out Sandwich

Feh.

So I was all prepared to be FABULOUS today.

I ate 1 cup of watermelon for breakfast.  Then, for some reason, around 2:00pm, I ate half a PB&J.  

Then I had a mental image of someone's face... *grumbles*thatfuckingcunt*grumbles*

And I ran for the bathroom, at work, and puked it all up.

Then I drank some Crystal Light, and thazit for the day.  Woo fucking hoo.  I'm at work for another hour or so, then home, then bed, then scale, then shower, then frantically planning "meals" and calories and foods and pretending I'm going to eat them...  Then back to work.

I'm going to do it this time - I'm going to get the body I want by killing the body I have.

And at some point, before I've gone totally off the deep end, I'm going to hurt people other than myself. Maybe I've already gone off the deep end.  I don't know.  I don't care.  I feel so solidly vapor-like.  It's stunning.

You know, I'm equal parts elated and intrigued.  I've never had THIS good an excuse to emaciate myself before.  I've had all kinds of excuses, but this one takes the cake.  (Food idioms ftw!)

I've gone up and down before - from overweight to underweight and back and forth and back and forth all over again.  The joy of bulimia! But now... BUT NOW...  The urge to binge has left me. I just want to starve myself into a respectable shape, and then into a cheap coffin.  (Actually, I want to be cremated.  Make that a cheap urn.)

--- I'm riding on the burning, crushing pain of h-u-n-g-e-r.  

--- I'm smiling peacefully every time the edges of my vision darken after I stand up too fast.

--- I'm swallowing often, just to feel the choking lump that forms in my throat when I don't eat.

--- I'm pinching myself, I'm envisioning skinny-me, I'm thinking about the old clothes I have stashed away -  sick-body jeans I want to drag up my hips and then shrink my way out of.

The small, quiet, sane part of me is glad I'm still firmly in the overweight category.  It whispers thigns like "Well, maybe it means you'll have time to stop this craziness before you hit a dangerous weight again."

The loud, shaking, crazy part of me is gleefully shouting, "This just means I have a lot longer to hold onto you before anyone thinks you're sick."

When it comes to my life... I've never been this hurt or angry or humiliated.  
But when it comes to starving myself... It's a very different story.

Because then?
Well....

I've never been this driven.

I've never been this hopeful.

I've never been this happy.

I've never been this scared.

Lie, Cheat, Steal

Yeah.  Cute title, no?

I am feeling pretty pathetic today, and I was lied to, cheated on, and stolen from.  It makes sense! SO THERE.

Today, I ate this:

It's...

• 130g strawberries - 42 kcal
• 100g blackberries - 43 kcal

TOTAL: 85 kcal

I know I have to eat more than that, or I'll succumb to binge/purge idiocy.  But today?  It was a bad day.  I found out some things I'm not to happy about.  I MUST be thin.  Immediately.

*squishes up face*

I hate just about everything.

It's 1:00pm and I've eaten nothing and drank one mouthful of water.  It feels excessive.

My fridge is full of healthy fruits and veggies, and nothing bad like bread, and... I just don't want to eat any of it.  

Ever again.

Feh.

Happy July Or Whatever

I've been incredibly busy.  A new girl, named Virginia, is moving into one of the houses I manage.  On Tuesday. I AM UNPREPARED OH HOLY GOD FUUUUUUUUCK.

Plus, I live in a VERY touristy part of the world, so when shit like the Fourth of July happens, nine trillion people flock to my neck of the woods in an effort to have fun, which they apparently can't do wherever they live.  I'm not a genius or anything, but I think maybe they ought to move if they hate it where they live so bad.  It's not MY fault they live somewhere ugly and lame, I don't see why I should be punished for it...

*affixes "If it's tourist season, why can't we shoot the tourists?" bumper sticker to car, smokes a cigarette, loads assault rifle*

Bring it, fuckers.

(Clearly, I've lived in a beautiful place that tourists love for FAR too long.  I am homicidal three months a year, every year.)

The good news is I'm losing weight.  I'm now going to work harder at recording my food and being a non-loser when it comes to puking whenever I get a spare moment.  I'm not eating that much, I really don't need to be throwing up.  Ergh.