what a weekend..

It’s been a hell of a weekend; a whirlwind of events, traveling, and eating. I was surrounded at all times with people who would become suspicious if I refrained from eating. My mother and I met for breakfast at a darling bistro downtown, but when I scrutinized the menu to find oatmeal..a fruit plate.. her radar must’ve gone off and she insisted I order an omelet. An omelet that is, of course, served with a mountain of potatoes and four pieces of toast. After careful maneuvering, I avoided the potatoes and toast but had to choke down half the entree. The rest of the day consisted of a pizza party for lunch that was hosted by one of the fraternities followed by drinking the night away. I don’t even want to guess at the amount of sugar I consumed from the alcoholic fruit punch – lovingly called Porch Crawler.

At least my dignity remained intact; I didn’t black out, and managed to find a taxi to bring me home alone. When I drink, I tend to flirt and charm anyone and everyone within a twenty foot radius. There have been mornings in my past where I would awake, groan, and look around me to find someone else in my bed. It has been about a year since I’ve brought home a random guy, but the potential of doing so always haunts the back of my mind. Luckily it was only an impressive hangover that greeted me the next morning.

Sunday consisted of nursing that said hangover with food, lots of water, and ibuprofen. Overall, the weekend was a terrible combination of binge drinking and binging on food. Monday was packed to the brim with classes, work, and sorority meetings. I had fasted entirely from Sunday evening around 7pm to the time my sorority meeting ended. I had worn a skirt that accentuated my whittling waist but was still too tight over my giant hips and ass. L caught up with me as I was about to leave and asked me if I’d go with her to get something to eat.. I had a million excuses on my tongue that could have come forward, but instead I agreed.

We went to a local sandwich shop and I had a small veggie sub, but still I felt gross.. weak.. I didn’t need this food, didn’t even want it, yet I was here and eating it. I couldn’t finish the sandwich – my stomach began complaining at halfway, and I didn’t push it. The idea of purging it flashed through my head and I know that I could have easily done so, but I wasn’t alone then and my roommate was at the apartment. I swore to make it up to myself. I fasted entirely on Tuesday, consuming only black coffee, water, and hydroxycut. The work out I had was intense, lots of arm and shoulder weights and plenty of running.

And so I wake early on Wednesday morning, intending to get up and do laundry, to get up and run, to get up to be productive. Yet, I’m still in my bed typing this. I’m too afraid to weigh myself today. I’m tempted to fast for one more day before stepping onto the scale. I dread the numbers.  My greatest enemy other than food is that dreaded scale. I know my curiosity will get the better of me and I’ll see that I’ve gained and resolve to extend the fast for even longer. I really must be skinnier by the end of September when we have a photo shoot with our sorority chapter. I refuse to be the fat whale in every shot. Sorry, but it won’t happen if I have anything to say about it.

Love you all, my skinnies,

GG

It's got to start somewhere..

So this blog starts out on a Friday afternoon while I find a spare moment to organize my thoughts. My fall schedule has started picking up and I juggle school, work, and sorority obligations. This blog is here to detail my insanity that I call life, and to follow the struggles and successes I have with my eating disorder. I’ve battled – and battled isn’t even the right word, since I often embrace the consistent discipline it gives me. I have been riding on the coattails of the unsteady losses and gains these past few years. I suppose I should give some background history on myself. As a high schooler, I was obese and miserable. I lost around 80 pounds on a monotony of a bland diet, exercise, and self-discipline. At that point I was addicted to running – miles and miles and miles a day.

As a newly thinner girl, I entered college with a more independent and outgoing side. I had always dreamed of rushing a sorority, but had never imagined in a million years that they would be interested in a tub of lard like me. I still had the image of 215 pounds in my head, but instead I was 135 and at 5’7, it must have looked okay. I rushed and got picked by my favorite one. The girls were gorgeous, slender and elegant. They wore expensive dresses and pearls. They had an air of class and were the elite on the college campus. I had little fashion sense other than jeans and casual tops, but they must have seen something in me. At first I suspected it was dollar signs (my father is well known for being successful), but these girls genuinely seemed interested in me.

Freshman year was a blur of drinking, frat boys, spending too much money and never finding the time to exercise. I gained back thirty pounds that I struggled with. Dropped twenty. Gained five.  Over the next three years I have been as high as 170 and as low as 125. Instead of resorting to dieting and exercise, it became a binge/purge system with horrible self-loathing. I would starve and fast for a week before a big social event, fit into the dress and look like I was having fun, then put eight pounds on the next week. My relationships have played a big part of my struggle with my ED. Every time I got comfortable in a relationship, I would try to regain a normal eating pattern to somehow placate my beau. When they left me, I was destroyed…and fat. Again.

Now here I am, senior year of my college experience and embracing the restriction and exercise addiction once again. I am currently 153 pounds (I grimace to type that). Rush is starting for sorority in two weeks & classes started this week. I find myself thrust into a vicious cycle of starvation, social events, tanning, and schoolwork. I have perfect the smile that claims everything is fine behind it. And as I stand tonight with my sisters for an all-Greek event, I will be judged.  I am not the thinnest – by far I might add, I am not the tannest, I do not have the whitest teeth, and my hair won’t be the longest. But things are changing. By the time we give out bids to new members, I will be less fat. Mark my words. I plan on using this blog to not only chronicle my chaotic life, but as an outlet that is an alternative to eating.

Think thin my lovelies,

GG