Purge-atory

Feeling pretty 'meh' right now. It's 7.30am and I've been up since yesterday morning, so it looks like I'm going to be pulling another all-nighter. Again. The weather today was typical British Autumnal weather: blowing a hooley and pissing down with rain all day. Now I really like this kind of weather and this time of year, because it gives me an excuse to do absolutely nothing but scramble beneath a duvet and cozy up to the other half all day. He was rained off of work which was good, but we had no food in the house and only about £20 in cash on us, so rather than get the selection of 'good' foods I was planning on asking him to pick up on his way home, he ended up deciding to order a pizza from Domino's instead, which was most definitely NOT part of the plan today. All I had in to eat were some Cup-A-Soups, which would have been okay, if the annoying smell of someone else devouring pizza wasn't going to throw a spanner in the works. So he ended up buying this 'Deal' which consisted of two medium sized pizzas, a small cheesy garlic bread, a portion of wedges and a bottle of pop, for £19.99. That meant that I was going to have to have a pizza and some other side stuff myself.

I really didn't want all that crap in my body though, so when it all arrived, I started off by eating half a pizza, a piece of garlic bread and some wedges. Then, after glugging back a load of water I made my usual trek off to the bathroom to have Mia help make amends. I'm pretty good at the silent puke, so it didn't alert the other half, but for some reason it was even more messy than usual. Now if any of you are bulimic or have experience with purging, you'll know that it's not a nice, pleasant experience. In fact, despite the nice quick, clean experiences that are falsely portrayed in films, it's a grossly messy experience. You get splash back from the puke hitting the water and then spattering back into your face. Nice! You get gobs of puke, phlegm, spit and stuff all over your hand. Hot! If you're not careful, or if it's a particularly violent purge, you can end up with spew going all over the toilet, on the floor, down your chin, all over your clothes etc....Mmm real sexy! And then there's the odd occasion when some of it shoots up the back of your nasal passages and out your nose, leaving the smell of burning acid and barf up inside your face for the rest of the day. Yum!

And not only that....it can be exhausting. Your stomach muscles have to contract so violently and repeatedly for you to empty your gut, you can really feel as though you've been put through the mill afterwards. This is not something you want to be getting yourself involved in if you can help it, because it's really not good for you. Yes, there are things you can do to help make it easier to bring food up and neutralise stomach acid so it doesn't erode your teeth, but lets face it: throwing up is not nice. It makes me panic sometimes because I feel like I can't breathe and think I'm going to choke to death on my own vomit. The idea of having my death reported in the paper as being the result of self induced vomiting/bulimic behaviours freaks me out - just not enough to stop me from doing it though I guess, huh?

But yeah, I threw up the first intake of pizza and extras at around 9.30pm. Then about an hour later I decided to eat another couple of slices of the cheesy garlic bread, a small Milkybar and some wedges. They were promptly puked back up again at around 10.45pm. I thought I was okay after that and sipped a cup of tea for the next hour. But when the other half went to bed at about 2.00am, the hunger monster came back with a vengeance, so I munched through the rest of the pizza, the rest of the cheesy garlic bread and the rest of the wedges, dipped in barbecue sauce. I swilled a mixture of Diet Coke and water back before and after eating it all, but ultimately it was all just thrown back up again as soon as I'd swallowed down the last morsel.

So I've purged three times since 9.30pm, which might not sound like a lot to some people, but despite being silent pukes, they were pretty violent. This is probably TMI yet again, but hey, if you're reading a blog that refers to Ana or Mia, you pretty much know what you're going to get. I literally had to use half a roll of toilet paper to clean up all the mess I made bringing back up everything I'd eaten this evening, which wasn't a particularly glamorous experience. I don't know if it was because it takes more effort to heave up starchy carbs that have swollen up with liquids, than it is to puke other stuff, but I was a one-woman-vomit-comet this evening.

As a result, my entire abdomen feels as though I've been punched in the stomach, kicked in the kidneys and just generally worked over on by a mixed martial artist. My throat is all icky and scratchy from where my fingernails dragged across the back of it, I have the beginnings of a Russell's sign marking on my right hand knuckles....I could go on and on. The list of negatives associated with this kind of compulsion is waaaaay longer than the positives. Yes, I know that the food isn't going to be sitting, fermenting and working its way through my guts to deposit on my fat arse in the near future, but sometimes it's hard to tell whether or not it's really worth the effort. I feel like crap, there is a perpetual smell of vomit in my nose that I just can't seem to blow out into a tissue, my head hurts, I feel dehydrated, my knee is all wonky from kneeling in front of the porcelain god, my knuckle is fucked, my throat hurts, my stomach hurts, my back hurts and I feel incredibly guilty for having wasted all that food that my other half paid for....and for what? The fear of regaining another pound tomorrow when I way in again?

I've really only maintained since last weigh-in; probably because I've been subjected to a few of my other half's 'nice little surprises' which are difficult to refuse because he really does mean well. He thinks he's giving me little treats that comprise the 20% of bad eating I should be enjoying alongside the 80% of my well behaved restricting. And in reality that would be a pretty normal way to look at it. But I hate having unplanned food sprung on me. If I haven't had time to plan for it and account for it in my daily intake, it just sort of freaks me' out and throws me into a bit of a spin. I hate refusing him because he thinks he's being nice. Plus, he tends to choose stuff that I have a hard time saying no to! These past few days, he's sprung a cherry madeira cake, fish and chips and now today's little pizza party on me. All because in his eyes, I wasn't eating enough the week before and he didn't want me 'starving myself silly' - ha ha, as if!

I feel terrible keeping my true feelings about food from him. He's the only person I've been really honest with about so many other issues and things in my life. I trust him implicitly with any and all information - I just don't want him to know about me throwing up and restricting so much, because I know it will hurt and upset him to think of my putting myself through such a bizarre torment. And I know he'll want me to stop and I'm just not in the right place or frame of mind to start making decisions like that yet. I hate keeping secrets from him, because I'm just so blunt and honest with him regarding EVERYTHING else. I feel like I'm lying to him by omission and I never lie to him. I pride myself on my honesty to him - to the point of being really quite blunt and lacking in diplomacy at times. So this one tiny little secret burns inside me like a terrible wrong I'm doing him. It fills me with guilt and sadness, but I'm doing all this for him. To make myself into a better version of me for him. Because he deserves it. So I'm hoping that in the great universal scheme of karmic order, this one tiny secret will remain undiscovered until the time comes for it to no longer be happening at all, thus rendering it in no need of being kept as a secret anymore. And hopefully by that time, I will be the better, brighter, thinner, prettier, happier, all-smiling, version of myself that he deserves to have on his arm. At least that's how I hope it'll pan out anyway.

I know he's not trying to sabotage me, because he told me that he'd support me whatever I decided to do. Being the gentlemanly legend that he is, he told me that he loves me and would still love and be attractive to me if I gained a load more weight, just as he loves and is attracted to me now. But if I feel that I want to lose weight then he'll still love and be attracted to me either way and will do whatever he can to support and help me. Which is the absolute perfect response any girl could ask for. But in my head I'm kind of annoyed at him for being attracted to such an ugly fat bitch. He's too good looking to be settling for a fat, homely looking, frump. I just gotta try and convince him not to be so liberal with the naughty food treats as I try to starve my arse back into submission! He doesn't realise it yet, but when I do drop the weight he'll be glad I did. He'll eventually appreciate just how much better it is to have Thindarella version 2.1 to curl up with at night or be seen with about town. He's gonna love the new improved me - he just hasn't met me yet! But when he does, he'll be real glad he did.

I think the past couple of days have been harder to resist temptation because I ran out of little chocolate bars, so I didn't have any on hand for my regular daily dose of indulgence. They really do give me something to look forward to every day. When I have a stash of them, everything is so much easier. But himself raided my wee bag of treats a couple of days ago when he had the munchies, so I ran out. I was hoping to go and get some more today (or rather I was hoping I could get him to pick some more up for me when he went into town) but the weather put paid to any ideas either of us might have had about venturing outside today. Not having those little glimmers of light waiting for me at the end of the day just made it all a helluva lot harder to not give in to temptation. So I'm going to have to make sure either he or I gets some from somewhere today or I'm going to go mad. I'll end up eating all kinds of shit and then vomiting it all back up again, the second I've finished. Bleughhh!

On a happier note though, my new friend Ruby has just had her assessment to go into an in-patient treatment unit in the next coming week, so I'm really happy for her. She's not had an easy time of it lately and I think she's started to come around to the idea of getting better. Be sure to stop by her blog and wish her well on her journey - who knows, maybe in the not too distant future we'll see her changing the name of her blog to 'And The She Reappeared' as she slowly but surely begins her ascent back into wellness and contentment. I always feel terrible moaning on about my own problems when there are others going through things a lot worse than what I have the nerve to complain about; it does us all good to gain a little perspective from time to time. 

Wow, it's gone 8.00am already. Where did the night go? One minute I was watching dodgy old repeats of 'Most Haunted' to get me in the Halloween spirit, the next here I am watching early morning episodes of 'The Waltons' and being meowed at by two indignant pussy cats who are getting rather agitated at just how long they have been made to wait for their breakfast. They know in their heads, hearts and stomachs that it's way past the usual time we get up to serve them their morning munchables and right now as I type this, the girl cat is staring me down with an intensity normally reserved for the occasional moth that dares flutter in and bother them. I guess I'm going to have to capitulate to their insistence and go produce the goods before a full level 2 harassment ensues and I find myself trying to drown out the caterwauling of one, whilst the other stands on my laptop, obscuring the screen entirely. Little fuckers!

I think the other half said something about getting up at about 8.30am too today. I think he wants to get out and about early enough to hit the post office, do a bit of shopping and most importantly - get some cigarettes! He's been rationing out his tobacco in increasingly smaller roll-ups since he decided to stay indoors yesterday, so I know he'll be Jonesing for some smokes real soon. Maybe I should go put the kettle on and get him some coffee and porridge on the go, to welcome his comatose cadaver into the day! It's the least I can do if he's to be running around doing me errands and fetching me comestibles like a good little manservant! 

Yeah, that sounds like a good note to end things on for now. Yesterday might have been a bag of shite, but today is another day entirely. Here's to a Happy Saturday Y'all!

Stay awesome!

x 

p.s. So much for being positive! The second I wrote that, the bloody heavens opened and it started to pour down all over again! Grrr....going into town isn't going to be much fun today!