Two Things

I'll start with the bad first:

My weight has SKYROCKETED.

The good:

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.

Here's the song. You should take a listen.

Love you all.
Margie.

MRSA, maybe.

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.

Needless to say, I'm worried.

I keep hiatus-ing

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 Miss Thin

It's funny. I say I miss thin, but I can't seem to control myself enough to get it back. If you miss it so damn much, why don't you fucking quit eating?!?!?!?!?! I need some major thinspo.

Sick

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.

Reese's Binge.

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?!

Back.

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.

Love you always.
Margie.