Tuesdays are the worst days.

since being home from ireland i have been thrown head first into student life again - after a clinton'esque' scandal i have been appointed vice president of my student govenrment. in a well bred rich kid school im far from the ideal image they hope to portray. they are looking for a kate middelton. they are getting a kirsty alley.

Intake today:

B: cofffe - activia low fat peach yogurt

L: salad - left over from last night

D: salad and chicken - running out the door for meetings all night.

Gym: if i get all my work done ill go at about 9pm. - but i have ballroom dance this morning and that should burn some calories. not enough, but some.

by thanksgiving i will be 134.

<3 think thin.

i havent been on this in AGES.

horrifically i havent made any progress. it will change, i did well for the first 3 months of ireland - then i lost it all.

i will improve. back to the old me. here i go.....

this morning i woke up late, and out of the blue decided to step on the scale....

149. WHAT THE HELL.

honest to god, how did this happen. i checked the scale 2x, still 149. even looking at the number repulses me. arugh. i have been eating so well recently, like 700cals/day MAX.

i need to go to the gym more. tomorrow am ill go after im done TA'ing my class.

arugh.

i leave for ireland january 11th, and i refuse to step off that plane looking like an american. i can think of nothing more horrific. i WILL be under 128. i WILL be thin.  i WILL lose more weight while i am there.

off to get things done today.

<3 think thin

this is the CUTEST outfit::

sometimes i think i will never reach my goals....never be where i want to be.

today i had one egg white for breakfast, a a salad for lunch, and home made tomato soup for dinner.

where has all my dedication and motivation gone.

has anyone read in People about that new diet pill??? im sure all of you feel the same way as me :: I WANT IT.

does anyone know where you can get it? or what its name is!?!?!?

<3 think thin

i honestly dont think anyone reads this anymore.....

but if you do spend .04 seconds out of your day scrolling through your 'daily subscription digest' this might hit home with you.....

It was a chilly morning in April, my alarm rousing me from slumber at 7:15am sharp.  The air was cold on my warm flesh as a crawled out from under the sheets.  Climbing down the four rungs of my ladder to the floor I felt as though my bladder would burst. The two liters of water I had chugged before bed the night before were causing sharp pain in my abdomen as I silently scurried to the bathroom.

I had to be 115.

In the bathroom I flushed- the water looking ironically familiar to the way it entered my body – perfectly clear.  It occurred to me on that morning that it didn’t even look like anyone had used the toilet, unless they took the time to notice the increase in water levels. This was a brilliant sign.  If my urine was weightless it could only mean I was closer to weightlessness also.

            I click the light off, aware of the moments that have passed while I have let myself come to these ludicrous conclusions. I quickly do the calculations in my head as I silently head down into the basement. If I had been awake for five minutes my body was no longer relaxed and at its lightest; step down the first three stairs – skipping the fourth to avoid the creak; but I just peed out enough water to fill a pop bottle so I shouldn’t be bloated; hover at the entrance of the kitchen still hidden by the dim light of the dining room, is dad still home and in the basement getting ready for work? Have Sheila or mom stirred yet? I realize that its cold, so my body will be retaining fat for heat, and not burning the calories that I might have otherwise burned if I lived in a warmer climate. I damn Buffalo winters as I finally ascend into the bowels of my home and closer to my daily measurement of happiness.

            My heart starts to beat, and I start to strip. The lights are still off, as a creep towards the end of the laundry room. I don’t even need the lights; I know this room of my home by heart. As I go to slip off my pajama pants my hands skim my hipbones, I stop for a moment and cup the edges saying a silent prayer that my scale will agree with the progress my cold fingers can feel.

            I flip on the light; it’s the moment of truth. I stand in cotton underwear shivering on the tile floor staring at the manifestation of my demons; the industrial grade medical scale that does not lie. Ignored and used as a storage space by the rest of my family my shrine to perfection had to be resurrected each morning, it was almost a sacrificial chore to unearth the source of my happiness in the nude and to be at its mercy – all before breakfast.

            I quickly and silently remove the pails and rags used for mindless chores and check to be sure it is perfectly calibrated for the millionth time in the three-year routine I had been paying daily homage to its will. Perfectly balanced. I step onto the scale, always the right foot first, and cringe. The bang of the weights as they remind me that I am not yet weightlessness sends the common fear of my fate down my spine. I slide the weight to 100, click. The weight still sits heavy on the bottom of the scale. I could only dream of being so tiny. 

            Now the fear rushes over me, I reach up and in a single swipe I move the smaller weight from zero-38. It was comforting to start each morning where I started off, it was a constant reminder of what results discipline and dedication could render.  Then the pain begins. The game of careful taping takes place, 135, 130, 128, 125, 123, 121, 120, exhale.

I convince myself that having air in my lungs will make my .005lbs heavier and I cannot bear the thought. Hand still poised and ready to push the tiny weight to my doom I force every last ounce of oxygen out of my body. I begin to slide the weight to the left, it glides smoothly right on down to 117 and I start to feel light headed from the lack of air. I think about inhaling and opt against it and give one more nudge of the weight.

                       114.

I gasp for air. The weight teeters….

                       114.       It sticks.

I burst into a smile, and quickly do the mental math, 138 in November to 114 in April, 24lbs closer to happiness. I hop off the scale and quickly disguise my measurer of success with pails and rags and hurriedly re-dress. I grab clean knee socks off the dryer in case of a much-needed alibi, and sprint back through the darkness to my room.

            As I turn the corner to take the steps two at a time to the upstairs I catch sight of myself in the mirror, today I hit a new low weight. I think to myself; I should have a reward for this as i slip into my room.  I slowly close the door and hear my sisters’ alarm from across the hall. My covert morning routine is completed and the day has the potential to be a happy one, I quickly glance in the mirror and decide that maybe I’ll have two apples for lunch today instead of the standard one. I’m pleased with myself for now. My sisters’ alarm goes off again reminding me that it is 7:30am, time to get ready for my day, a solid twenty three hour and forty five minute blur until I face my demons scantily clad and barefoot all over again in the morning

 :: me ::