Monday, June 24, 2013

I had the rest of the pizza earlier and some orange white chocolate and I knew even as I was eating it how much I didn't want to but people were watching me. Actually, that's a lie. They watched me take the pizza back to the room but no one came back to actually see if I had eaten it. I should have stuffed it in the trash. I need to get better at throwing away food.
So now I feel sick, and fat and disgusting, and all of the last few days work seems pointless and wasted. I just hope that tomorrow I can get up and stay motivated all day and get right back on track. I hate the feeling of being full, or even just the feeling of not being empty. I want to be tiny, and that can't happen if I don't work to earn it.
This time I really feel like I am going to make progress.

Cheese pizza- 5 slices (300 calories each?)- 1500 calories
Chocolate- 6 pieces- about 250 calories (?)
Total for the day- 1750 calories

I went out for a fast paced walk twice, part of it uphill. That was about an hour and a half exercise total. I've seen different resources say different things. One hour of walking can burn between 100-250 calories. I am going to say I burned off 100 calories per half hour (hopefully).

Intake +1750
Exercise -300
Net calories 1450

I guess it won't make me gain five pounds but it feels like it.

I've been on that pro ana site watching the chat box and seeing all these girls say how little they are and how fat they think they are. Some of them really are bigger like me, but then there are those in the two digits and all I can do is wish so much to be them right now. Most of them never even started out my size and would commit suicide if they were. And yet I've been bigger. It really makes me feel like I am never going to get anywhere. If I had to go into recovery and was forced to gain twenty pounds and I was then 125, I would recover a happier person. How is it, I wonder, that I got the short end of the stick there? But I guess I didn't. Nobody made me eat all of that food or gain all of that weight. When I was several inches shorter than I am now (I'm currently about 5'6) and age fifteen, I was maybe 140 pounds tops. And that was just naturally while developing. That is still about 20 pounds less than how much I weigh now.
I wish I hadn't let myself go. I remember even then my aunt had told me I could stand to lose 15-20 pounds. I used to lay in bed at night and do at least 100 sit ups because more than anything, I just wanted a flat stomach. I know I can't turn back time or take away things that already happened, but if I ever get into a position where I am so small again, I will remember my regret, and never let myself go so that I have to feel it again.
I need to be little by Christmas again. I don't know what it is about the winter time that makes it so easy for me to starve myself into a little bony nothing. I was smaller last winter, and as spring came, I gained it all back. But I maintained at around 140 and sometimes lower for several months.
I KNOW I can get back to where I was. And I know I can do it fast, and start achieving my goals soon. I want to fit into those clothes again. I want D to worry about me again, and to feel my bones and have that look on his face. I want him to know something is wrong but as much as I tell him, he never seems to understand, but he did for a bit then. I don't care if it is realistic or not, or if it is wrong, and I don't care that maybe I am beautiful just the way I am. It's the only way I can feel like I am accomplishing something. It is the only way that I can feel motivated and work hard, and become perfect. I crave that perfection like Romeo and Juliet craved their other half once they were gone. It feels too much a part of myself to give up, even if it effects my whole life, which I have no doubt it will. Even if I was given a huge opportunity if I only recovered, I think I would still choose to pursue this path.
It is an unhealthy obsession, and an addiction, but I refuse to give it up. And I know I am not the only person who feels this way.