Sick laughter.

My roomate said "I could be 130lbs...if I tried." today.

I laughed. Hard.

She glared at me.

Karma, bitch.

Anyways. I've been unbearably busy lately. It's jury time, kiddos! That's right, the time of the year where are us little art students cram a portfolio today and have our professors chew it to pieces.

RRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Stress=eating; Eating=fat: Stress= fat.

I have been eating nonstop. It's pathetic and rediculous. Fuck you food. Fuck you cravings. You can all die and go to hell. And so can you, juries. And midterms.

Oh- and to top it all off! I have Messiah. Just remembered- I have 100 some odd pages of music to learn. But on the brightside, I got an aria! A short one, but a beautiful, good and well-known one. If you've ever listened to anything from Handel's Messiah, it's probably been this aria. There were shepherds abiding in the field... all that jazz. Youtube it. It's great. May I suggest Sylvia McNair, Robert Shaw-"Messiah" Shepherds Abiding?

Dammit. I hate December. It's too fucking busy.

Love you always,

Margie.

Thanksgiving.

Today is the eve of Thanksgiving. It's our family's first Thanksgiving without her around. We always had dinner at her house. This year, it's at ours. The food won't be nearly as good. The room won't be as warm.

Just a year ago she was well, as healthy as can be. Four months ago, she was diagnosed. Four weeks ago, she died. She was here, the wind blew, and now she's gone.

Like dust.

So earlier today, the day before the four-week anniversary of her passing, I did something that many people would call just plain dumb. They can think that.

I gave myself a tattoo. It's really small and on my hip. It's the Russian word for dust. Life is fragile and momentary.

Like dust.

Love you always,

Margie.

Little Sister's Pants.

A few days ago, my thirteen-year-old little sister gave me a pair of her old jeans. I hadn't gotten around to trying them on until this morning. I haven put on any jeans besides my size 25 BDG jeans in about a month, mostly just because I normally wear sweat pants, or skirts or those BDG's when I'm feeling decently about my legs.

Anyways, when I put her old jeans on, I was pleasantly suprised (slightly disturbed) to find that I can't keep them on without a belt. They're a size zero.
Yes. Losing inches is good.

AND when I bend over and look between my legs, you can now see the entire out line of my hip bone, every vertabrae and every rib.

I feel good today.

Love you always,

Margie.

Dearest Fire Alarm:

Please stop lying. It's making me hate you, and lowering my ability to trust your judgement. One day, there actually might be a fire. You'll go off, and I'll just think to myself, "Oh there it is again, I'll just stay in my room." Then I will burn to a crisp, and it will be your fault.
You've gone off five times in the past twenty minutes. I would like to let you know that I am sick, fasting, didn't sleep at all last night and am quite cranky.
Oh, there you are again. Six times. You are making me deaf. Oh look, you turned off again.
Please let me sleep, and stop lying.
Thank you kindly.
Margaret.

Sloth.

I need to work out. I need to stop eating and then sleeping. And then waking up and eating more. I have eaten nonstop this weekend. I did really well until about two o'clock yesterday and everything went downhill from there. And I had a fucking bagel with butter this morning. Butter. Christ, I am losing it. Really.

I am going to lock myself in a room with nothing but a sketchbook, notebook, a few magazines and a sink and a toilet. And never come out. Ever.

Home.

Drove to hometown. Got sushi with mother.

She made me eat all of it.

Got home.

Sat in my window and smoked.

And cried.

Felt like getting drunk.

Looked for open wine. Didn't find any.

Looked for open vodka. Didn't find any.

Gave up.

Sat in my window and smoked.

And cried.

Cabbage.

Is amazing. I love it. And I would love some cabbage right now.
RIGHT NOW.

Fatty McFatfast.

Yesterday, something inside of me said fuckthisfastletsfeast. So I did just that.
It wasn't too bad (macncheesewholegrainpastapicklescabbage) and it could have been much worse. I hadn't taken any of my meds for the past few days, so I had no sense of discipline or self-control. I want to weigh in, but I decided I'm not going to until after I finish this fast. Which sadly, is only going to be until tomorrow at lunch time, because my mom and dad are coming to have a meeting with my math teacher because I am not doing so hot in math. So they're taking me to lunch (maybe, I'm going to try to get out of it) and then to dinner, and then home. Where they will shovel me full of food and talk about how thin I am.
I'm having a two day fast when I get back to prepare myself for the HELL that Thanksgiving will be. If anyone has tips about avoiding gorging during thanksgiving, I would appreciate them so so so greatly.
Sorry for the rambling and unorganized thoughts, I am a bit manic right now.
Love you always,
Margie.

I Am A Fat Furry Bear With No Self-Control

who can't fast to save her life anymore and forgets to take her prozac and her adderal so she only likes to fall into the safe, cozy arms of sleep. Hibernation. And eating.

So fasting time is starting over. I'm shooting for two days.

I'm too scared to count my calories.

Probably over one thousan fivehundred.

My knuckles are RAW. Completely.

I basically got into a gang fight with a hunk of alabaster and a rasp.

Guess who won? Hint: it wasn't me.

Love you always.

Margie.

I Have No Title.

All weekend, I ate like a huge fatass.

I ate like a huge fatass at lunch.

Curly fries and a veggie burger? Really, Margaret? Really?!

BUT.

I have to apologize for being so fucking whiny for the past week or so.

I reread my last few posts and wanted to slap myself. I really sound like a huge fucking self-pitying bitch.

BUT.

I am in a good mood today, despite having such a horrid eating day.

I had a really great weekend. Two of my best friends from home came up to visit for a bit on Saturday, and then Eric and I went to the ballet later that night. It felt really nice to dress up for sometthing that wasn't a funeral. And a plus- it was fabulous, live-action thinspo. Which apparently isn't working too well...

Yesterday was my birthday, and it was wonderful. I went to lunch with mom and dad and sister, and then went to the laundromat with Eric, who got me a pretty bad ass present, I must say. He got me puppet that's a monster (shown above), who I brought to the majority of my classes today, and he gave me a card that's shaped like a pickle. Inside he wrote, "Happy mother FUCK-ing birthday" and signed his name inside a poorly-drawn heart. I've never know a guy who can draw a heart. They always look like butts or potatoes.

Oh, Eric. Hahaha.

Anyways.

I'm fasting again as of tomorrow, if anyone wants to join in maybe.

Love you always,

Margie.

Fuck.

I don't remember happy.

I don't remember happy.

Fuck.

Starting Over.

Today's a new day, a new beginning.
I had another awful binge day yesterday.
Therefore, I will be fasting until Saturday.
My birthday's Sunday.
I refuse to eat cake.
Yay for being able to be tried as an adult and legally move out.
Big girl jail...Woohoo.

Love you always,
Margie.

Grumble.

Today, I woke up. Then I binged.
Then I had a mother fucking panic attack, for the love of god.
Then I went to sleep.
Then I woke up again.
And binged. Again.
I'm still hungry as all get out too.
Fuck me sideways.....
UGH.

Love you always.
Margie.

Point of Insanity.

Look at you, shuffling around campus. You are lost.
Where are you?
Where are you?
In your head, swirling amongst their voices.
Shaking. It's cold; you're freezing. Why don't you wear your coat?
What's wrong with you?
What's wrong with you?
Look at you, fidgeting in your chair. You don't hold still.
You squeeze your eyes shut. Escape.
Go away.
Go away.
Staring. There's food; you're starving. Why don't you eat?
What's wrong with you?
What's wrong with you?

Too Tired To Actually Write.

So I'm posting food.
I can't tell if food today was bad or good.
Fat wise, it was terrible. Calories wise, it was decent.
(I'm so ready to get out of this mood)

food:
d- vegetable chilli (330, 4g) espresso (2, 0g)
s- reese's cups (160, 10g) pickles (10, 0g)
e- walking 45 min.(-121)
total: 381, 14g.

Love you always.
Margie.

Life Throws Too Many Curveballs.

Horribly sad day. Tired of death.
Two weekends of funerals is too much.
Blair's funeral was easily one of the saddest things I've ever witnessed. The church was completely full, and not a single eye in the building was dry. It was so different than Mammy's funeral.
I'm completely exhausted. Losing two people in one week..
You never expect these things to happen.
There are so many questions I'm asking right now. So many things I'm regretting.
Terrible food day.
I'm going to bed.

Love you always.
Margie.

Never Saw It Coming.

Last night, a friend of mine committed suicide.
It was just last week we last talked on the phone.
I can't believe he's gone. I can't believe none of us knew.
And through the loss and sadness of it all, I can't help but be a little angry at him.
Bud, why'd you have to leave so soon?
Why didn't you tell us?

I'm gonna miss you, Bud. A whole hell of a lot.
I love you. Rest in peace, Blair.
20 November 1992- 4 November 2009.

Heels.

I just bought a new pair of heels. They're simple: black leather, round-toe, four inch. And I'm learning that they make my feet feel like shit, and they give me blisters and the tops of my feet hurt, but heels are truly the ultimate confidence booster.
So. I adore my new heels.
My mind is rather messy today. I cleaned everything today, except my mind. I went on a two-hour adderal/caffeine fueled cleaning/organizing/gutting/reorganizing/wrestling coat hangers spree.
I just wish I could do the same thing with my head, because I can't think. And it's quite quite quite bothersome.
I'm still exhausted. I just want to sleepsleepsleepsleephibernatesleep. I don;t know what to do with my tired self.
I had a decent food day, except of the rediculous amount of FAT that I ate.
food:
b- protein bar(210, 7g)
l- protein bar (210, 7g)
d- unagi nigri (108, 5g)
e- 45 min brisk walking (-121)
total: 407, 19g !!!
bad, bad, bad, bad fat Margie!!!!

Love you always,
Margie.

Awfully tired.

I'm dead exhausted. It's the kind that caffeine can't fix.

I'm stressed as all get-out too.

I'm too tired to write. I have no thoughts.

Decent food day.

Food:

b- 0

l- bits of salad (21, 0)

s- frosted flakes (110, 0)

d- 0

total: 131,0

Love you always.

Margie.

I Saw A Ghost Today.

I've been thinking too much lately. About things that have past. People, a certain person. Places, memories. I can't get them off my mind.

I want them to go away. I want him to go away.

But he'll never leave. He'll never leave.

There's always going to be that voice voice of his, slurring away in my head.

It's all my fault.

And those big, gaping scars that he gave me, that never seem to heal.

It's all my fault.

I know this doesn't make sense to you. It doesn't make sense to me either.

Love you always.

Margie.

I Detest Irony.

I left home today. Halfway to school, my mom calls to tell me I left my other keys (I have two sets: one for my car keys, house key, backdoor key, cvs card, gold's card, basically stuff I only use at home. On the other I have the keys to my dorm, my flatfile, etc, basically the stuff I only use at school.) at home. She says not to turn around, she'll mail them and they'll be here in a few days. So I keep driving. It's only until I'm actually at school that I realize that I need those keys to open my mailbox.
Fabulous.

Love you always.
Margie.