so they called. and all they asked me was if i had any questions.
i said i didnt really have any.
crisis averted. thats me for ya, freaking out over nothing like that.
in lighter news, i only ate 430 cals and 8g fat yesterday, and my roommate has been bringing me diet pills. they work like a dream. they don't make me too shaky, but they give me a little pep, and they make me not want to eat. its great.
so tests came back this morning. both of the infections (the curable ones) came back negative. my doctor asked me to weigh myself everyday in the morning. i've lost about six pounds in the past few days. and for the first time in nearly two years, im not happy about it. im so angry at myself. and im in so much pain. i just dont know what to do.
so ive been having lots of really bad medical issues with my gi sytem lately.
and i'm really angry with myself, because i know that i probably did this to myself. everything that i might have (aside from two infections that are a possibilty, but are less likely than the others, but im hoping for the best) is really serious, doesn't have a cure and requires an incredibly restrictive diet. so it's like my punishment for extreme dieting? more dieting. for the rest of my life. well shit.
a's been all over me about my new diet. even though i told him that it was a cleanse, and that i'd still be taking in "1000" calories a day, he's freaking out, and has told my friend to keep an eye on me at meal times. i know it's because he cares, and because he hates seeing me starve myself. i'm so frustrated.
i'm only into my second week of school, and im already about to die from the stress.
i have an obscene amount of work already due, on top of college applications and putting together a good protfolio. i wrote my essay for my top choice today, so at least ive got the big bad scary one out of the way. now, onto documentation. always fun.
so, im tempted to go on some national campaign to get all doctors new scales, because they are always wrong, and they make me really mad whenever i get on them.
saturday's doctor's care wight: 108
monday's regular doctor's weight: 106
What do i do both times i get home from te doctor? Go straight to my scale, and everytime its says 103. Honestly.
But why so many doctor's visits, Margie?
well. It's the old mrsa, again. apparently if you get it once, you're more likely to get it again. and i have it again, worse, this time. I'm going into surgery in three hours to have the damn thing cut out of my arm. im really nervous, but im trying to keep calm and just let myself go back to sleep, but i cant. anyways. wish me luck.
because we had a really bad storm and seven trees fell down on the road that he lives on and so did a multitude of power lines some which landed in front of erics driveway and all over the rest of the street and they got sparks everywhere and there were several fires (luckily not at eric's house)
but a tree fell on some guy's brand new car
it was his birthday present
but we stayed inside all night and talked about weird stuff
and i slept on the couch for awhile while eric wrote because the power was out
and every time i'd fall asleep all the way, eric would pull my toes and wake me up
then we got the generator running and we watched a movie
and im still trapped, jsut not at eric's
im trapped inside this giant body that doesnt belong to me
the one that belongs to me is buried under all the wreckage that has built up over the past six months and she's clawing and trying to dig her way out
im stuck in that really aggravating in-between of "i want to get through this" and "i want to stay wrapped up in the forever."
things have sucked lately. i havent had hardly any human contact outside of my family and A.
i had a pregnancy scare last week and spent my time crying and weighing my options (even though i knew that i really only had one because i couldnt get an abortion, and one look at the baby and i could give it up) but im not pregnant so i dont have to worry about it.
im rambling and confused and dont know what to do with myself and my time.
I have been gorging my self with endless fried thing, sugary things, salty things fat things
and it's time to come back and to get into that bikini
yes ma'am it is
margie, you touch that cookbook one more time, and i'll cut your chubby little hands off
I've been all over the place lately. I just got home from New York City, where I looked at schools and wolfed down as much food as humanly possible. I have my heart very much set on The School of Visual Arts.
ah, to live in the city, nobody knows you, nobody knows you.
I want to be thin again. I want to be light; I want to be nothing. I really do.
I miss my bones protruding, the smooth, sharp curve of my hipbones contrasting with my lumpy, sagging pants. I miss having my knees being the widest part of my leg. I miss having spindle-y arms. I miss being delicate; I miss being fragile.
I don't miss the constant headache. I don't miss the aching joints, the fatigue. I don't miss binging and purging, or chewing and spitting. I don't miss the dizziness. I don't miss having my hair fall out in clumps. I don't miss the prying questions. I don't miss the screaming. I don't miss the crying.
A worries about me. He told me on Saturday how worried he was about me at the beginning of the school year. He notices my thicker hair, my pinker skin, my brighter eyes. He notices when I don't eat too. And he makes me. He tells me I'm beautiful, even though I don't believe it. He tells me that I'm wonderful, even though I don't believe it.
He notices my struggle with it now, and tries to pull me into safety, even though that isn't where I want to be. He says he doesn't want me to fall back in. I want to dive. But I can't bring myself to make the jump.
We didn't even go to the mall. Which was nice. I got to meet A's step father today, who's been absentee for the past three months. He took A and I to men's warehouse so A could rent his tux for prom. He's kind of a dick. He's the only member of his family that I don't care for, the rest of them are absolutely wonderful. Especially his mom. She's one of the strongest women that I know, and she's incredibly sweet. We brought A's six-year-old brother along, who's the cutest, loudest most hyperactive thing on this planet. He'd be like, "Margaret? When is A gonna be done getting his tuck-zeedos?" I think he might have stolen a cuff link though. He claims to have found it outside, but I'm not too sure.
I fell asleep curled up with A today, which is kind of an accomplishment, in a sense. After Him, I've never really been at ease with myself enough to fall asleep with my boyfriends, but I guess I'm just really comfortable with A. He woke me up for about a second because his phone rang and he moved to turn it off (I have no recollection of this) and apparently was like, "fuck you bitch, I was comfortable" He thought it was cute.
I ate way too fucking much today, but other than that, today was awesome.
Going shopping with the boyfriend today. Lately shopping has been a nightmarish thing for me. I've gone almost a size up- nearly a size two. What my mother nor my boyfriend seem to be able to understand is that only a few months ago a size zero was two big, and now I'm having to squeeze in to one. Last time I went shopping, it ended in a crying breakdown in a changing room, a disgruntled Margaret, and a worried mother. I don't want to worry A. I already do that enough. He doesn't need any more shit to worry about. Honestly. Wish me luck.
I went to the doctor today to get my worsening infection checked out. They took a little biopsy of it, tested it, and it's MRSA, just like I thought. But, luckily it's not in my bloodstream, and I caught it right on time, so I don't have to be hospitalized or anything. But that's the good news.
So the biopsy hurt really badly, even though it was just a small piece of skin removed, because the infected skin is incredibly tender. But anyways, once I got the biopsy back, they were like, "Yeah, we're gonna have to remove it." So, I expected them to give me some sort of anesthetic, at least a local one. No. Didn't happen. The woman who did it told me that it was going to feel sort of like getting an ear pierced, which we all know, doesn't really hurt at all. So, you know, I'm lying on the table, and the woman dresses the incision area, and get ready for something that feels like getting my ears pierced, and like a little slice for it to drain out of. WRONG. This woman cuts a freaking half-inch hole in my leg without anesthesia. And this lady is chattering away, while slicing my leg up. She seemed way too happy to be cutting a hole in my leg. Not to mention at this point, I'm like crying my face off, and I'm biting my tongue hard enough to make it bleed, just to keep myself from screaming. Then I passed out right before it was over.
I finally got into the last stages of designing my next tattoo. It looks exponentially better in person, trust me. I'll try and get a better quality picture. I should have the actual tattoo half-way finished hopefully by mid-December. It still needs a bit of tweaking, epecially the lilies.
But, I've found an absolutely incredible artist to do it, even though he charges A LOT. I'm talking $100 an hour, and the black and white parts of this are supposed to take anywhere from 2-4 hours. Hopefully I can come up with that kind of money by then.
But I'm willing to pay a lot for it, because it means a whole hell of a lot to me.
The Lilies of the Valley are for returned happiness, or at least the hope of returned happiness.
The branch of thorns that the sparrow is perched on represent pain, but they also represent protection and strength.
The sparrow is a chipping sparrow, and I chose this particular type of sparrow for its colouring. I knew that I wanted a bird, to represent freedom from abuse. So I chose a sparrow, because of a song, "Little Sparrow," by Dolly Parton that I grew up listening to. I can't really put to words how perfectly it fits with parts of the emotional and mental abuse that he put me through.
I'm free from him now, and I hope, I hope, I hope, that he has made me stronger.
I miss everyone. And I hope all of your are doing well.
I'm not doing very well myself. I've ballooned up to 106.4 lbs. I learned this when I went to the doctor the other day, to get an infected cut looked at. The thing that I'm most worried about, is that it might be MRSA, Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. In English, that's basically staph that is resistant to the majority of antibiotics. One of my closest friends was in the hospital with it a few weeks ago, and I was exposed to it when I went to visit him. He's fine now, but there's also a two-inch wide and two-and-a-half-inch deep section of his leg that's been taken out. I'd like to keep all of my leg, thanks.
I haven't been able to write much, or restrict much. A absolutely won't let me. He notices every time and tells me to, "eat, spidermonkey!" He's so wonderful though. Really, really wonderful. Which is a problem, because I might be starting to fall in love with him, and I'm trying not to let myself, and I'm trying to be realistic. And he says he isn't ready to be in love yet, which upsets me, because I feel like it's my fault, like I'm not lovable, and I hope it's not that, and it's been bugging me all week. I don't know what to think because I'm upset right now.
I'm sick with some god awful cold, and me being me, I took much too much cold/cough/flu/achey/what-have-you meds. I talked about snakes and the queen of England and R2D2 for like an hour last night with A, who was thoroughly enjoying himself, before I passed the fuck out and slept like a ROCK. Damn cough syrup. But I haven't consumed anything other than liquids and pills today. Huzzah. Yay for sick restricting. Also, my physchiatrist prescribed me sedatives for my anxiety. I don't know how I feel about that. I just want thin. My thoughts are quite scattered today. If you can't tell.
I'm waking up to one of thos awful late-night binge hangovers, where you can still taste the candy in the back of your throat, and it's too late to throw it all up. I got all manic yesterday around dinnertime, and I think I ate too much there. I can't really remember. Why can't I restrict like I used to?!
I was gone for a while, because I though things might be getting better, maybe. Things in all aspects of my life are getting better, except for my weight. I AM A FUCKING WHALE. I'm 103 pounds of nasty, disgusting, jiggly fat that shows through all of my clothes and screams to the world, "IM DEPRESSED AND HAVE BEEN BINGE EATING I HAVE NO CONTROL OF MY LIFE THUS I EAT AND EAT AND EAT AND EAT TO MAKE MYSELF FEEL BETTER" But it hasn't made me feel better. At all. It's made me gigantic. And very unhappy. I miss being that little waif of a thing that couldnt keep her tiny pants up. The one who could be blown around in the breeze, like a little flower. So it's time to get some fucking self control. I started restricting again today, and won't be eating over 500cal a day any more. Fruit for breakfast, half a sandwich for lunch, and salad for dinner. A total of 284 calories.
But I do have news. There's a new boy (I feel like theres always a new boy...which makes me feel like one of those girls who's like, 'ooohh new bf, i love him so much lol!' but I promise Im not. At least I hope I'm not.) I did move on from W pretty fast, but that whole relationship was just kind of a joke, now that I look at it. He was just trying to get in my pants. And he couldn't do that from an hour and a half away. So he slept with some other girls. Oh, well. Let's move on, shall we? Yes, let's move on to new boy, A. He is pretty damn awesome. And he's comitted, he cares about me, he wants to make me happy. And doesn't care about getting into my pants. I'm pretty sure that he actually likes me. Hopefully. Who knows. But I'm sticking with this one, and hopefully he's sticking with me. AND he's absolutely wonderfully nerdy. He made me a valentines card that said, "I've found the droid I'm looking for!" which made me smile. He's a catch. Let's hope this works.
It's six o clock and beginning to snow. I'm inside alone, looking for a dress for a stupid dance that I didn't get asked to. I want to be outside, playing in the snow like the rest of them. I have no one to go with.
She asks me, "Why can't he just be faithful to me?" He has feelings for another girl. He doesn't show them, but she knows it. I feel bad for her, but its hard too. She gets with other guys at parties, she talks about all the boys that are better than he is, how much he drives her crazy, how much she likes a few other boys. It drives me nuts. She isn't faithful to him either. She really doesn't understand how lucky she is. She has everything. She can pick and choose. She gets what she wants when she wants. But she still complains about it all. It doesn't make sense to me. I'm ready to snap.
I realized that I'd never really tried a set diet, like ABC or anything. So I went out and looked for one, and I found one I like, and I think I can follow it. It's called the staircase diet, and it goes like this:
Day 1: 1300 calories Day 2: 1200 calories Day 3: 1100 calories Day 4: 1000 calories Day 5: 900 calories Day 6: 800 calories Day 7: 700 calories Day 8: 600 calories Day 9: 500 calories Day 10: 400 calories Day 11: 300 calories Day 12: 200 calories Day 13: 100 calories Day 14: 0 calories Day 15: 100 calories Day 16: 200 calories Day 17: 300 calories Day 18: 350 calories Day 19: 400 calories Day 20: 450 calories Day 21: 500 calories Day 22: 550 calories Day 23: 600 calories Day 24: 650 calories Day 25: 700 calories Day 26: 750 calories Day 27: 800 calories Day 28: 850 calories Day 29: 900 calories Day 30: 950 calories Day 31: 1000 calories Day 32: 1050 calories Day 33: 1100 calories Day 34: 1150 calories Day 35: 1200 calories Day 36: 1250 calories
And I think I might just be able to stick to this one. Im starting it today. AND today I get to wallow around in 13oo GLORIOUS calories. Which is exciting, since I'm such a fat ass.
I'm trying to figure out what all I can cram into this limit. Its like trying to figure out how many lovely shoes you can shove into your suitcase to go on vacation. Like a game.
Things are getting a little teeny bits easier as days go on. I'm still stuck in my need for comfort food, especially in the mornings. I've dreamt about him since Tuesday. Theyve all been this recurring nightmare about seeing his lifeless body everywhere, finding it in all these different places. Except for the dream I had last night. I dreamed that I was at the beach, and that he came and knocked on the door of my beach house. I got really angry at him, and yelled at him for tricking all of us into thinking that he had died. He just laughed and said he couldn't believe all of us had fallen for it. I tried to hug him, but I woke up then. I was crying. I wanted the dream to be real so badly. I sent him a message about it, which is stupid, I know. But I miss him. Starting restricting again tomorrow.
Luke's funeral was yesterday. You should have seen all the people there. So many people loved him. There were times that I couldn't do much else but sob. W held my hand, and tried to hide his own crying, I guess to stay strong. I told him he could cry in front of me. It's finally starting to hit me that I'm never going to see him again, that he's gone forever. The shock of it all is subsiding, and is being turned into grief. They buried him today at 11:30 this morning. He's already in the ground. I'm at school again, and everyone's being so supportive. I only know a few other people here who knew him, but I don't know how close they were to him. My eating has been atrocious. It's all been comfort food. I'm so frustrated.
His nickname was Sunshine. He was sunshine, everything about him. I found an old video, from about five years ago. I don't know who took it. But, it made me laugh so hard. I remember Luke perfectly then, and he was exactly the same five years later, just about a foot taller, and his voice a few octaves deeper. I decided to share it with you guys, it's such a cute video.
Our Lukey Dukey, our Sunshine boy. No one's ever gonna forget that kid.
Today, it rained. It was almost cliche. We all spent the day together because none of us wanted to be alone. We mostly talked, shared all our memories about Luke. It was funny. He was such a funny guy. It's almost hard to feel sad when you think about what he was like, all the times we had together. We ordered in from his favorite restraunt. During lunch, a bird flew into one of the windows of the house we were in. She was a cardinal, a pretty little bird. Her neck broke on impact. All of us went outside. One of us brought a washcloth and held her while she died, so she wouldn't be alone. She chirped a few times, four I think, and then, she was gone. We buried her in the back yard by the fence. All of us cried. Life is dust, fragile and momentary. It's here for a second, and then, it's gone. Unlike dust, life leaves things behind. Amazing things that last forever.
Tonight, one of my oldest friends was killed in an accident. I don't know why God chose to take him. It's so weird the way these things work. I called him at around one today to see if he wanted to hang out sometime this weekend. He said sure. He went hunting with another guy, some guy I don't know as well. He was shot in the back of the head. He was comatose for a few hours and then died. He was just eighteen. I don't know why these things happen. First Blair, now Luke. It just doesn't make sense.
I already fucking broke regimine. It's been what, like two hours? I had fucking pasta. Bright side- it was 111 cals, but still. This is what I've been doing. I'm probably brushing just over one hundred right now. RAHHHAARRRRRRRR. I am very frustrated to say the least.
Self-control, why have you left me? Where did you go? We used to be the best of friends. Now you're gone, and I am fat. I just keep ballooning up, my clothes all fit again, my boobs have gotten enormous (I don't really mind that, except for the fact that my boobs are the last place I gain weight) and my thighs are disgusting and jiggly and WAY too close to touching. I am a fucking cow. SO. It's time for me to quit being a lazy fatass, and stop eating and maybe start exercizing. This is my new regemine:
Breakfast- Protein bar (160)
Lunch- Small salad and sandwich or soup (all under 100)
Dinner- Small salad and veggies, sandwich, soup, or sushi (all under 200)
ABSOLUTELY NO SNACKS.
If I can stick to that, I won't get over five hundred. My problem lately hasn't really been meals, it's been snacks. I need to keep myself busy and full of enough liquid to keep from snacking. Any tips on that matter would be amazing.
Binged again today. It was the first thing I did when I woke up. Ate a half a bag of Reese's. I feel nasty. W was supposed to come and visit me today, but his car wouldn't start this morning. It's going to be another day alone.
Watch "The Hangover." Finish "The Hangover." Text. Wait for response. No response. Open can of soup. Find a seemingly clean bowl. Pick out a strand of roomate's hair. Gag. Wash bowl. Pour soup into clean bowl. Walk downstairs to use microwave. Listen to "UP" being played in the recroom next door. Ding. Walk upstairs with soup. Eat soup. Wash bowl again, while humming the theme from "UP." Put Bowl away in drawer under the bed. Sit under the bed for a spell. Stack things. Two jars of nutella. Four boxes of protein bars. The jars of peanut butter. Six packs of ramen, oriental flavor. Try to imitate Zooey Deschanel's beautiful singing. Two boxes of oreos. Two packs of diet coke. One bag of marshmellows. Get bag of marshmellows. Lie on back in bed. Eat a few. Make gooey blobs of marshmellow goo between thumbs and forefinger. Suck on marshmellow, and throw it onto the ceiling. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Watch them fall like the snow that fell a few times this week but never cancelled school. Clean bed. Glower at the ever growing pile of clothes and other various and sundry items that live in my desk chair. Get back in bed. Six thirty. Close eyes. Breathe.
My ToDo list is only halfway getting done. I'm working more, and trying my best not to smoke more, but not very successfully, so I'm smoking more, which is bad. But what's worse is that I'm only eating a little less. And I binged yesterday, dammit. If anyone has anywords of wisdom, they'd be greatly appreciated.
I hate it when Eric gets into my business about eating. We were eating lunch together today, and I was doing really well. I was perfectly content with my veggie burger patty and my pretty little salad. That is, until a girl sat down near us with a veggie burger and curly fries, my arch nemesis. That's when the shit hit the fan, and it only took one sentence: God, those fries look good. Then Eric looked up at me and said, "Then get some." I insisted that I was okay, I was too lazy to get up, and finally, I accidentally said that my fat ass doesn't need them. Eric gave me one of those oh-god-dont-be-getting-into-this-shit-again-now-youve-given-me-right-to-be-suspicious looks. That's when he got up and got them for me, put them down in front of me and waited for me to eat. And naturally, as soon as I started I couldn't stop. In a way, I feel like a terrible person for being angry, because I know that I really do worry him with my eating, and with his dad being so sick now, I don't want him to have to have another thing to worry about. I feel like I'm such a burden sometimes, to my family and my friends. I hate doing this to them, and I wish I didn't worry them and hurt them with this, but I can't stop. I won't stop.
I really, really hate them. Everyone says theyre going to visit soon, I hope they will. I'm getting lunch with W for his birthday today. It's Eric's birthday today too. His dad was admitted to the hospital last night because he ruptured an artery in his stomach. We're all so worried. His dad is like a second dad to me. I talked to Eric on the phone earlier today, and he sounded really upset. I hope for Eric and his mom that he'll be okay. I just keep telling myself he's going to be.
It's weird. Things are getting better, I must say. I leave the day after tomorrow, so I can restrict again. I have a guy who seems to care about me, something I thought was impossible. But I still can't seem to get myself happy. Anise- I saw Him at Subway on New Year's eve, while I was getting dinner with W. And for the first time in a really long time, I didn't want to run, or cry. It was weird. And he said hello to me, and smiled, of all things. He acted like I was a person. Which was also weird. Maybe I;m the weird one, not him. Oh well. I stayed sober last night, which was a small miracle. I was kind of like the drunk man wrangler, keeping all those silly boys in line. I will never understand why men prefer to pee in bushes when they're fifteen feet away from a real bathroom. I think it's gross. I really don't have much else to say. Happy New Year lovelies. Love you always, Margie.