They only had a portapotty to purge in. Bulimia holds no boundaries.
Eating disorders sure are glamorous. If anyone who is engaging in behaviors thinks they’re above this, or you’ll never stoop to this level, you’re dead wrong. And I used to think purging in pearly white toilets was disgusting.
Sigh.. It’s right in the drawers underneath the TV in the living room :/ I know I’m going to tap into that one of these days and he’s going to get upset again. Badbadbad
| Ex boyfriend: | Try 11 foods that end bad moods...look it up in yahoo..it might interest you |
| Me: | Food makes me unhappy |
| Ex boyfriend: | Check it out. It won't if you feel better and it's fruits and vegetables |
| Me: | How ironic is it that I'm throwing up salad right now? |
| Ex boyfriend: | That's ridiculous |
| Me: | Yeah well.. |
I’m purging salad into it now. I’d use my parent’s bathroom but they notice every godforsaken spot I might forget to clean.
Exercise to follow. Even though I just spent the last 5.5 hours running around at work. Doesn’t count. Not really
I puked until saw stars. I kept puking until I saw and tasted bile. Bingeing and purging makes me feel weak, pudgy, bloated. I hate the sensation. I only feel accomplished at the end, and even then I’m unhappy because I had no control over my decision.
I’m peeing out of my butt. My body is disgusting. I weigh less than I ever have before. And I’m still not small enough.
I’m not small at all.
It’s been over 30 hours now. I’m proud of myself. But it’s only because I didn’t eat anything..so in the end it’s not any better. I wish I could say I’m making progress but I’m still in the same rut.
I feel sick. Queasy. I can’t eat. I refuse. I just can’t. I’m just going to purge it if I do and I’m sick of it.
Coffee is the only thing keeping me running right now. Somehow I’m not lightheaded. I just want to sleep.
I can’t. It would ruin everything.
4 people tonight at work asked if I model and told me I should. I felt good at first and really flattered. Then as the night went on, I started having anxieties that they were being sarcastic and making fun of me. I tried to convince myself otherwise but there’s just no getting around it.
I’m fucking fat
I’m tired of people trying to make me get better. I don’t want to recover. I just want this to kill me.
(Source: yumenochikara, via maira-meow)
I have open sores all on my inner left cheek. I bit my top lip by accident while I binged hard enough to make it bleed. I’m so disoriented. I feel buzzed. I should’ve studied for my pre-calc test tomorrow, but I binged instead. I’m out of control today. I shouldn’t have smoked to appease my ex-boyfriend just because he begged me to eat something. It’s probably a bad thing that he gives me so much power. I tell him to stop caring about me, but he’s still here trying to help. It pissed me off tonight so much because he called and kept talking and talking and talking when all I wanted to do was binge and binge and binge. When I finally hung up on him I was so angry for being delayed I wanted to cry and felt like throwing my phone at the wall and breaking my binge bowl.
I made no effort to find a ride to my therapist tomorrow, because I’m annoyed with her as well for pushing to continue seeing me twice a week. I didn’t feel like we got anywhere during our appointment today and if I couldn’t find anything to talk about after 6 days, I won’t be talking about anything worth while tomorrow.
I’m going to sleep soon. I’m fucking tired.
I was bingeing in the living room and he came home early.
I was caught completely off guard and started rushing to find hiding places for the groceries. Luckily, there are 17 stairs he has to climb before being able to view the living room. Luckily, he dilly dallied longer than usual taking off his shoes so I hid almost everything by the time he made it up the stairs. Luckily, him coming home meant I could borrow his car to pick up my ex and drive to dunkin donuts to do hw and study.
I finished my binge and purge upstairs, then got the hell out of my house.
Why is it that when my doctor told me my bpm is -8 lower than a month ago and my body is essentially shutting down, I felt accomplished? I had to hide my smile. I’m seeing her again in 2 weeks and a cardiologist in about a week. My hearts fine though, it’s not nearly weak enough to hold me back from doing throwing in spring.
I did lose alot of muscle though. If I do throw I’d suck this year. And there’s a new girl trying out who i heard is apparently great at it. I could try running again (lol). We’ll see
Check up. I gained. There’s no reason for me to drink a shitload of water. This time I actually am this fat and heavy and ugh I fucking fucked up. I feel gross. Everything is a fucking trigger. I bought $32 worth of binge food and I can’t wait to get my hands on it once I get home.
I can’t help it. I run my hands over my ribs through my shirt and make sure I can count them, the same number. Over and over until I notice someone’s watching.
I deserve to be hungry. I deserve to be uncomfortable. I deserve to be weak, uncomprehensive, and hungry. I can’t have food. I don’t deserve the satisfaction. All I do is waste it and it makes much better people than myself sad and I don’t deserve their sympathy. They don’t deserve having to care about me and suffer while they watch me and see the changes and listen to how dead I sound and feel and look.
I hate myself and I deserve to die. I’m a shit stain on everyone else’s lives. I deserve to rot and feel pain. I don’t deserve to die. I deserve to suffer and hate myself and be disgusted by my existence.
I’m a monster.
