But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Slipping

Sitting here, eating six granola bars, thinking of my new choppy haircut. How much worse I look now. I then move on to Cracklin Oat Bran. Satisfaction does not last long. What am I to do?
I consider skipping my insulin... But I can't take it. So I walk into the bathroom without really considering it as a choice, lean over, stick my fingers down my throat, detached...
And it comes up, magical, so easily. I just finished eating not a minute before, and drank almost nothing.
Then fear and guilt settle in. I haven't been doing this recently... But I did it day before yesterday as well. And if I know anything about myself, a few times a week surely moves up to daily, and daily moves up to hourly...
So I must think of a plan of action. I cannot slip back into this. I must stop myself.
But there is something so wonderful about being healthy and bingeing and purging. Sadly, I know that it won't last. If I continue I will find myself hovering over the toilet, shaking, weak, heart beating irregularly and dizzy. And I must control it. Too many years have been wasted on this eating disorder.
I just wish that I liked who I saw in the mirror. That I didn't hate my nose, notice the brace stains on my teeth, the roots of my hair from not dying it.
And my body. I will never be satisfied with it. So why look anymore?

11:15 PM - Saturday, Jan. 08, 2005
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dying - living