But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
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Failing
Again today, another low sugar before the crack of dawn. Today 44. Hungrily, I devour a bag of skittles. I am shaking and I am sweating. I do not care. All I can think is, "240 calories gone."
At noon I awake again, blood sugar 56. I missed my psych class. Again. The days become so much the same. another class missed, another low sugar...
I make it to lecture hall for social science. Today a speaker is there. Three of us are sitting in front. Halfway into it I start feeling dizzy, as if on a ship. I feel ready to vomit. As if the slides moving one way and our seats being angled another is making me sea sick. I lean over to Marta and ask her if she feels the same. The answer is no.
'No, its all you, you are losing it...'
It took all I had to not run out and vomit in the restroom. Within the next half hour after leaving I began to feel better.
I am down seven pounds now. Seven pounds easily lost by cutting back on chocolate pieces, English toffee, and peanut butter.
I feel a certain thrill as I see the digits move down on the scale. In a sense I only want to live to lose weight. I wish to sleep all day, dozed out on Benadryl, and only wake every twenty-four hours for a bit of Diet Dr. Pepper and errands. I wonder if I could do that over the summer? The sleep diet. Where dreams are the feast, and hunger is not felt.
Impossible. Even as I type it I know that it is not possible. I should give up now. I should start eating more now. I should toss the digital demon, the one that uses weight for worth, out the window.
Because only in a twisted reality is less more. And I don't want to die because less is more. Logically, less is nothing to strive for. But this lives on the shade of grey between reality and fantasy; just look in any magazine.
8:26 PM - Tuesday, Mar. 08, 2005
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dying - living
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