Do you ever look back at who you were and smile? Just remembering what it felt like to inhabit that skin, however it felt? I read through all my old posts and it's like looking at someone else, not just a smudged reflection. I weigh about a stone and a half more than I did the first time I posted, and I've eaten about... well, I'm not sure how many calories I've eaten today. The girl living next door has an eating disorder. I hate her for it, but she doesn't trigger me anymore. We bake together - she purges, I don't.
This all sounds horribly smug. It's grim a lot of the time and I still flick through magazines longing for skinny arms, tiny thighs. I had those once. I also had a beard, the shakes, constant hunger pangs and rotting teeth. And I couldn't even look at that tiny body I spent so much time perfecting. I still think about the ex-Boyfriend all the time and when I'm drunk I end up crying outside the American's house, hoping he'll open the door and forget I dumped him and tell me he loves me. I dream about being touched, about fingers tracing my silhouette and being held. About being loved. I've done casual sex, I've done anonymous sex, I've done crazy sex, I've done irresponsible sex, I've done in love sex and it still didn't stop the loneliness. So I made myself a promise the other day - no more sex until I'm in love. I kept my other promise - no more hating - and it took me a few years but I'm still here. And I'm so fucking grateful.