Revision, revision, revision.... So instead I went and took some photos in the garden... Perhaps my obsession with flowers is slightly sad and kitsch given my name, but to me, there is no nothing more perfect or beautiful than flowers. I could philosophize pretentiously forever on how transiently beautiful they are, even in their decay but even more than that, I find the idea of perfection intoxicating. Everyone I've ever met or read about with an ED seems obsessed with perfection (me included) but has anyone ever attained it? Has anyone out there ever reached their goal weight and achieved happiness? Or are we trapped forever like this, pursuing an ever more elusive image of perfection? Will it always be like this: Starve, binge, purge, starve, binge, purge, in an inevitable cycle of destruction?