Karma Police

Okay, so I think maybe my purging is a little out of control...

In the past week, my family's "Operation: Let's Help Eff Feel Better", has meant: constant calls and pestering, being asked "what's the matter?" if my face doesn't happen to be smiling at that second and my mum being off work all week. Consequently, I've not been able to restrict in the way I usually do. In a normal week, I don't eat at all until my mum comes home from work, or I eat a little- just so I don't pass out at the gym. But her being here has meant that i can't do this; so I've resorted to purging. A LOT.

Part of the "Operation" also meant numerous social activities that I would even partake in were I feeling well. Cinema trips with my step mum, trips out "for a drive" with my mum and, unfortunately, a meal with my mum, brother and sister in law. I'd already been purging every evening meal all week and was really freaked out by the prospect of a formal meal on Friday. Friday came and I did well to eat very little, telling my mum I was "saving room for the food later"; as I was getting ready though, the thoughts of all the food, so delicious, full of my favourites and pretty huge portions (for me) began to circle around my head so fast that I had to hold on to something so I could get a grip. On an impulse decision, I brought out a bigger handbag, one of my big bottles of water and my toothbrush (I always gag myself with a toothbrush, my fingers just don't do it). So off I went, feeling like I was on an undercover mission. Sure enough, I got up to purge after every course. My family made a couple of jokes about my frequent toilet visits, but I blamed it on all the water I'd been drinking. I stood there, after every purge feeling part disgusted with myself and part exhilarated that I'd managed it.. Me and my bag of tricks had pulled off the ultimate dining heist, in that cold, poky little bathroom and no one was any the wiser.

Despite this success, I went on to do something very fucking stupid.

Not quite content that I'd managed to get everything up, in the ultimate twist of the wisdom "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure" I decided that making myself a cup of laxative tea was the best "prevention" for me. To make doubly sure, I used two bags and left it for twice the time.

I woke up early Saturday morning, feeling like someone had handfuls of my insides held tight in their fists and they were pulling and twisting without relent. I spent the morning counting the mosaic tiles on the bathroom floor.

Not totally content with this stupidity, after mum and I had our nails done, she treated me to lunch. Which would have been fine, had my guts not felt like they were on fire. I thought if I ate all of my lunch, it would serve me right for being so fucking stupid the night before, I deserve to get fat after that. Partway through though, the panic started to rise at the back of my throat....I couldn't stop myself attempting to calculate every single calorie on my plate. No matter how much I tried to stop, the answer was always the same: FAT FAT FAT. The food not only upset my stomach (how long do the effects of that fucking tea lats?!?!?!?), but as soon as I got home, I purged again. Dumb bitch.

The rest of today I spent, bleary eyed and sea-sick. Standing up takes around half an hour, that is, if I don't want to sway and fall over. I haven't eaten anything else. I'm afraid of what I'll do.

This is what you get, when you mess with us.....