Bliss and Despair....

There are those days in your life, that will always mean so much. They are the days that makes hunger pale in importance. And the width of your thighs seems less significant than it did the day previously. There are days that change your life, and days that change nothing. Today was one of the days that changes everything.

Two things happened. Perhaps the order is more significant than anything.

1. My boy found my blog.

2. He asked me to move in.

In that order.

Elaborate. Please.

I am a fool. Recently I have taken to checking blogger multiple times a day. I find it calming and therapeutic and I feel valuable to the world in some small insignificant way. I was feeling out of control this morning. I checked in to see what was new, and left it open for less than two minutes while I ran to the toilet. Apparently two minutes was long enough.

When I came back. He had read my last three posts. All three were wishy washy and did not incriminate me. And that would have been fine, had it all ended there. I tried to take the laptop off him but he was speaking to me in a way that made me realise I was not winning. He asked me what this was. I told him it was something I was reading. He saw straight through. He already knew it was me. The tattoo. That bloody tattoo. I could have kicked myself.

He wanted explanations. But what can I say. There is no way to explain away all my feelings laid bare for people to see. By then it was all too late. I sat and could not look at him while he read everything from the beginning. 

It is not as if he thought I was all normal, and, well, sane. He knows about me of course. But there is something very different about the watered down version of events he heard, and the innermost thoughts and fears wound up in my mind.

He however had never had the full story from the beginning. He has now.

I could not watch. The conversation afterwards was horrible. Simply horrible. I hated it all. He was devastated but I couldn't work out how. He said he hated reading through my hurt, but he also could not stand my lies. Which hurt more?

And yet one small selfish side of my brain was saying. 'You can't hide anything anymore. He knows EVERYTHING. All your secrets, all your lies. Your motives. Your tricks. Everything. He's going to stop this. He will make you stop. Now you've really fucked it up. He knows everything and he won't want you anymore' 

Then number two,

He asked me to move in.

Someone please explain. I have no idea how the hell this happened. I have no idea how after everything we talked about this morning, he decided he wanted me to move in. How this endeared myself to him is absolutely beyond me.

Torn between bliss and despair. 

Welcome to my life.

And he tattooed my heart with lies and promises....

As the ink penetrates my skin I shut my eyes.
Ready to loose myself in the pain.
His rough hands pull and prod my skin as he asks me to turn further to one side.
The needle stings as it reaches my hip bone and I flinch.
The man is ugly and fat, yet it feels so intimate to be exposing my skin for him to mark me for life. When it is over. I feel a sense of achievement.
I have survived something I was so petrified of.
What else can I survive?

My boy will not be happy. It will be one more thing for him to worry about. One more thing he will have to explain away. He says he has already accepted he cannot change me, and cannot save me from myself, but I wish I did not hurt him so.

The newest addition to me. It hasn't healed yet, and it hasn't scabbed over so its still looking a little bit icky. But its also the first glimpse the blogging world have had of me. Ladies and gentlemen, my hip/stomach-ish area. I am working up to showing you all the rest of me. 

Something....

Thank you for dropping me all the blog titles.
Tomorrow I am starting ABC. I have to do something.

Blog Plea....

I was wondering if you lovely ladies could all suggest your favourite three blogs. I'm looking for some new reading because I haven't updated my blogs I'm following in a really really long time. Feeling a bit out of the loop.
Thank you <3

What 89 means to me....

Its been strange. Hard because its been to easy. Its amazing how hard old habits die, and in just three days they came creeping back. Its like two layers of my concouisness are arguing. Both strong. But one must win. One side knows that something had to be done, yet detests the method. And the otherside is willing to do anything to get what it wants.

I understand that 89 pounds is low. Logical me knows this. Logical me knows a 'healthy' weight isn't too far from what I am now. But what is physically healthy for me, does nothing for my physcological health. As I was just three days ago makes me feel out of control and helpless. Being in control of my food again makes everything seem so much more manageable. I'm just generally happier and its addictive. Why would I ever not want to feel like this? Feel calm and relaxed and organised.
But 89 pounds isn't about 89 pounds. 89 pounds is one pound less than I have ever ever been in my 'adult' life. Thats what 89 means. That I'm still good enough. That I can still do this. I want to be the best that I can. I can;t explain this properly. But 89 is so much more than a weight on a scale, a number or a Bmi. Its just so important to me to be able to do it right. Its so important to me to reach that.

Its beyond striving for perfection. Its simply me. Its what I need to do for me to give me purpose and to give me worth. And although it is low, it is not dangerous or critical. Often it is not the weight that is deathly, but the mindset behind it. Surely 89 would only harm me, if 87 were to follow, and 85 after. This time, I think I can stop. I will find the strength to allow Rational Beth to intervene, to say enough is enough.

I weighed in at 134 last weigh in. Theres still a way to go.

Me in numbers....

Hello new high weight. Today I stepped on the scaled for the first time since Christmas and my holiday. And it was not pretty. I was pretty disgusted by myself. I didn't cry or freak out, I just thought thats it then. Time to hop back on the bandwagon.
Its strange, I'm oddly resigned to the stupid cycle I'm stuck in now. I knew the scale wasnt going to be kind. But I didnt expect anything less. And the new high weight is always followed by a new low or at least lower weight.
Its just this time I need to do it right. I need to either not make myself  ill doing it. Or I need to get better at hiding it. The problem lies in my perception of thin and the rest of the worlds.
My parents start to freak out if I go anywhere near 7 stone (98 pounds) . Which for my height is 'underweight' but doesnt look thin on me. So they expect me to stay way above that. Apparently perfect weight for my height is around 135 pounds so 9 stone 9. But I would feel so awful if I was that high. Hello new high weight.
I've never disclosed my weight here for embarassment and shame. but here it is for all to see. Please do not judge me, 138 pounds.
Otherwise known as 9 stone 12 pounds.
Only 49 pounds between me and a new low weight.
89. Thats where I'm heading. Yes. Back to normality.

Thats me in numbers. I've never felt so laid bare. But it felt as though it had to be done.

Christmas....

Tomorrow I am going away. I am going skiing and I am unbearably excited. I intend to come back from skiing half a stone lighter at the least. And by the end of January I will be back to my low weight. I cannot wait.
This year has been shitty, amazing, crappy and oh so wonderful all in 365 little days. And next year will be even better. It feels as though its time for something to change. I'm not quite sure what yet but I'm sure something must. I hate feeling out of control and when everything is planned with lists I'm so much calmer.
I spent my christmas day with my beautiful new filofax putting everything into boxes and it was easily the best part of my day.

Christmas was wonderful. I woke at nine and the christmassy excitement was yet to hit me. My sister gets so excited by it all and its sweet to watch. My dad came down to spend the morning with us as my sisters gets very upset if he isn't here. We all exchanged presents and it was lovely and so cutesy and just perfect. I saw my boy in the morning and he made my christmas. We swapped small gifts but he needn't have given me anything because he made me so happy just to see him.
He bought me the most gorgeous shoes and I was glowing all day. Christmas dinner was of course the largest feast ever. And it was the only part of the day that was slightly uncomfortable.
It was lovely.