Archive | February 2013

Still A Failure

Well, I’m still a failure. A month of fighting my parents to keep my weight down, to keep losing, and today I started my period. I work so hard, and I’m such a failure. God, I feel disgusting, fat, bloated, and just plain old lousy. I can’t believe that once I really, really wanted to get my period, wanted to be a woman. Now I just want to be underweight, for my body to start shutting down so there’s proof that I’m thin, even if I can’t see it.

I never saw myself as thin, even when I really, truly was. The indication that I was, was my lack of period. Purging everything I ate, and I thought I didn’t have a problem, can you believe it? Such is the nature of anorexia. It’s all denial, denial, denial. Well, fuck this. I will get thin, I don’t care what it takes.

One day I hope that I’ll actually feel thin, that I’ll actually feel I’ve accomplished something, because I’m sick of being fat, sick of not being able to see myself as others do. How did my sight become distorted? Why did my brain decide that I was covered with rolls upon rolls of disgusting fat, clinging to the beautiful bones underneath? When did I start seeing bones as beautiful, for that matter?

Why?????? Why, why, why, why, why??????


This Will Never Happen To Me…

The classic human response- we hear about something happening and think “this will never happen to me”. Not many people truly believe that they’ll get cancer, but 1 in 2 people will be diagnosed with cancer by the age of 85, and it is the leading cause of death in Australia. Scary odds, but people almost always think- that’s not going to happen to me.

Same with car accidents. Car accidents happen to strangers, and people on the news. The truth is, in the next 24 hours, 4,800 Australians are going to be involved in a car accident, 550 will be injured and 4 people will die. That’s 4 dead people, every 24 hours! 

This denial, I think, helps us humans cope with life. Without it, we would probably forever be terrified of what was going to happen next. 

I knew the risks when I first stuck my fingers down my throat, but I was convinced that nothing would ever happen to me. I was convinced that I would be fine. I wasn’t. I was admitted into the hospital in very real danger that I could die. 

Maybe the fact that I didn’t  die, that there were no visible long term effects, that I now think, even more then before, that I’m untouchable. Invincible. That purging and starving myself won’t kill me, won’t hurt me. 


The Worst Place To Purge


My least favorite place to purge is a toilet. And the worst sort? Public toilets. It’s sickening, leaning over a toilet where hundreds, if not thousands, of people have peed in and pooped in, and the loo water and vomit is splashing up onto your face, and you just feel like crying, and you wonder- is it really worth it? Unfortunately, the answer is yes.

Ana comes above everything- including your dignity. So I swallow my pride, and bend over a toilet, trying to purge quietly. After, I have to wipe up the mess on the sides of the toilet bowl, and flush.

Once, at a party, the toilet wouldn’t flush, and my friend was knocking on the door asking (yelling at) me to hurry up. I was just staring, horrified, at the vomit bobbing around on the surface, and I thought- crap! This is it! Then I remembered a story on an anorexia site where a woman was in a similar situation, and I did what she did. I chucked in a ton of toilet paper, and told my friend that it wouldn’t flush.

When I say I purge in toilets, do you imagine me on my knees, bending over the toilet bowl? Well, that’s actually wrong. Any anorexic/bulimic that’s ever done any research will be able to tell you that kneeling isn’t a good position. Besides the floor been uncomfortable for your poor knees, it’s better to have your head lower then your stomach- it’s gravity, people! If you kneel it will take longer and be harder to get everything up. If you stand and bend, it comes up a lot quicker, and a lot more at once.

Another little thing that bugs me- people often imagine that it only takes one vomit to get everything up. WRONG! You might have to coax your body to purge nearly twenty times before you get everything up. I’d say, for me, it’s about five vomits minimum before I start getting all bile, no food.

Purging is a closely kept secret, because it’s so shameful. It’s hard to write about, I feel disgusting when I write about it. But as I’ve just purged in a public toilet, I thought I’d write while the memory is still fresh (and vivid).

Thanks for reading this, whoever has taken the time to!

Distorted Body Image

I know that I see a distorted body image, because that’s what the doctors say. I know they are telling the truth, because even when I was at my lowest weight, I still could see the rolls of fat, the loose folds, the bulging stomach, the marshmallow thighs.

My fingers are great big sausages, and my hands big, thick stocky hands. My cheeks are full of fat and my arms are thick and disgusting. I am gross. I am fat.

My arms look like they’re as thick as poles, my legs are huge and disgusting and I have to try and hide them.

My stomach is always bulging. Always sticking out. It is gross, and I look pregnant. When I sit down, the insides of my thighs touch, which is the end of my world.

My body is disgusting. I am disgusting. I am fat and ugly and FAT, FAT, FAT!

More quotes…

I want to be remembered as the girl who always smiled the one who could brighten up your day, even if she couldn’t brighten her own.


It’s hard to answer the question “what’s wrong” when nothings right.

I’m tired of trying, sick of crying, I know I’ve been smiling, but inside I’m dying.


I don’t know what I want in life. I don’t know what I want right now. All I know is that I’m hurting so much inside that it’s eating me, and one day, there won’t be any of me left.