Part of me says I shouldn’t talk about it. It needs to be my secret. This will be the one way I can have control without people knowing. I could keep it all to myself. Forget about the cutting, focus on this instead. The other side of me knows how fucked this is. But sharing it makes it even more fucked up.

I wish I could say I wanted to lose weight to be healthy, & maybe thats actually true, but I want to lose weight to be thin.

Actually, I want to lose weight because I know I’m heavier now than I was when I left Scotland. After weighing myself in Wal Mart that day it’s been preying on my mind constantly.

The best chance I have at losing the weight is back in Scotland, just like before, but I know I have to start now if I don’t want to deal with my mum. I’ll have to deal with her anyway but the point is, the things she said when I lost weight before have stuck with me. I looked “much better thinner“, I “didn’t suit being like I was“.. As oppose to my dad saying I “needed to eat something” & I was looking “thin in the face“..

So now I’m back to “how I was” I’m panicking. How exactly was I?! I hate photo’s of myself from the past few years, I know that much.

I left Scotland at 135lbs, I’m now back up to 146lbs. (I’m 5ft5). I can’t believe I actually published my weight, no-one knows how much I weigh. So count yourselves lucky ahe?!

I need to shift those 11lbs & it’s driving me insane. I feel so fat right now, my thighs, tummy & arms. I hate it. Christ, 11lbs in 2 months. Mind you I did lose a stone in 1 & a half months back home. Just goes to show if you lose weight in an unhealthy way, or rather, too damn fast, it’s gonna come straight back at you.

Talking of unhealthy, the past two days I’ve been frequenting my old Ana-Mia sites/Thinspo galore. I’m already planning how to get out of eating meals back in Scotland, even though it’s not hard when living in a house where the fridge & it’s contents are under lock & key – the eye of scrutiny from my step-father. Yes, I know how bad this is. Hell,  I’ve been dealing with it most of my years. So I understand how fucked it is. But it’s clouding my mind right now & I have to let it out somehow & hopefully, having it out in the open will save me from myself.

Walking down the street today, trying to kill some time before the bus was due, we passed a cluster of restaurants where we simultaneously voiced our hunger pains. Bear pointed out a place we could go & snap I clocked her. The waitress, dressed like a schoolgirl slut – their uniform evidently. I point blank refused & along with that, my hunger disappeared competely. Or did it. I know exactly what’s going on. I’ve replaced one addiction for another. I’ve replaced my self injury with my eating disorder. My ED has always been there. Since my school days it’s been there, but for the past fours months it’s pretty much been hanging around like a bad smell.

Back in High school I’d never ever eat lunch. I’d never eat Breakfast either for that matter but that goes without saying – I’m not a breakfast person. After school though I’d buy a mountain of chocolate & gorge on it, alone in my room.

For this I blame my stepdad. Things in that house (the house I’m having to live in for 6+ weeks each time I have to leave the US) are very controlled. My step father is a control freak & my mother is very much in submission. There’s no such thing as a “snack” nor is there a large serving at dinner, let alone seconds without a huge guilt trip. The numerous comments this man made about my body image in my teenage years has stuck on me like glue. So I learned to comfort eat. This also grew worse during my last relationship. I’m talking tubs of ice-cream devoured in a matter of minutes, then hidden in the garden shed. Bar after bar, wrapper after wrapped hidden in the bottom of the trash, hidden in drawers, wardobes, pockets, bags. I was & still am incredibly ashamed. Oh god, it was terrible.

Nowadays, I don’t eat during the day. But really, that’s not something new either. I’ll knock back cup of tea after cup of tea, but that’s it. Even when I was working hard, physical labour 12-14 hours a day. Perhaps two sugars in one cup mid day when I felt my energy dipping.. but nothing more. Yes, people noticed. No, I didnt’ care.

Late evening comes & I feel I have to eat something, mainly because it’s dinner time & Bear will be eating too.. if it weren’t for him, I doubt I’d even bother. I don’t feel hungry at all. Well, I do, but I enjoy that emptiness.. with that comes the reassurance I won’t put on anymore weight today.. & for some reason, that’s what makes everything okay.

Fuck, it’s becoming more & more clear.

When I do eat, it’s not much. My appetite just leaves me as soon as I see food. Even with half a portion I feel sickly full & I hate it. I hate feeling even the slightest bit full. I want to feel hungry. I want my stomach to growl. I want to be empty.

This is what I do now. This is my self injury. It’s no wonder I’ve been wondering where the urges to cut have gone. It’s all right fucking here & it has been all the long.

It was so much worse back in Scotland & I know it will be again.

But there’s an even bigger thing on my mind, & that’s about the clocking of certain types of women. Christ I can’t even call them attractive can I. But I swear, I can clock an even vaguely attractive woman a mile off & as she draws closer, I freak out more. I’m constantly watching. I mean, I’ve been conditioned to. Mostly, it’s come from my last relationship. I simply cannot cope if there’s an even remotely skinny/pretty/young/whatever female anywhere near me.

So, I clock the girls right, then I watch Bear.. watching to see if he sees them. It’s so fucked up. But then again, I’m left surprised pretty much every single time. He’s too busy watching birds fly into trees & the remnants of the Starbucks mint chocolate chip Frappuccino on my lips. (Christ on a bike are they good).

So yeah, I’m having big issues right now. This has been the first one to come to the boil. I don’t know what to do. Will it ever stop? Will I ever be able to walk past an attractive woman without my mood snapping from happy & content to suicidal?

It’s been so long now, so many years of this & I don’t see a way out.

Call it irrational. But it’s hard to ignore in the moment when I meet people who knew Bears ex-wife. I feel like I’m being compared by all of them. Chances are I probably am, but then again, maybe not. I don’t know.

Where has this come from?

Well, Bear might have an opportunity for work up in New York again. So next time I come over, it may well be to somewhere completely new.

When we planned my first trip over to the states, we thought we would be in NYC but things changed – the job he was in, or rather, the long time friend he was working for, fucked off & things fell through. However it didn’t bother me either way where we’d be & I’m happy we’ve started off in Kentucky. It’s less… scary? I mean, we’re still in a city, & a wonderful one at that, but it’s nowhere near the same scale of liveliness.. nowhere near…well hell, New York fucking City you know?!

Again, call it irrational but I’m pretty damn intimidated by it all. I feel like, in NY, there’s standards I have to live upto. It could be worse, we could be talking LA, but I feel like – & I said it aloud last night – that to live in NYC I’d have to lose more weight. I’m terrified of walking down the street & being the fat one. I don’t feel that so much here in KY, but Louisville isn’t that sort of place. People are different here. To my mind anyway. I mean, sometimes I feel this way no matter where I am.. but for it to be the first thing to come to my mind about living in NY, well damn, it’s a pure shame right?

Yes, it is said old friend who Bear would be back working for again, & yes, he did know & like Bears ex-wife. I do not like this guy as it is, so that doesn’t help my anxiety but I can just see him comparing me… gah. I hate the whole notion.

It’s really difficult to explain the logic & all in this but I felt I had to express it, even though I’m not exactly sure myself what I’m so scared of…

I guess I’ve sort of got over the anxiety with his family, but it’s still lingering with the friends. I mean, I don’t exactly want to live up to this woman (especially after what she did to him..but we won’t go there) who Bear once loved enough to marry – heh, funny how that makes one feel.. I lost count of the times I said to people I could never be involved with a divorcee.. figures.

Now that I think about it, perhaps the only person making any comparison is myself. Sounds about right. After all, some of the things I think about… they’re sure as hell not going to wonder…..

After losing that stone last month through no conscious effort – merely hard work & stress I’ve been freaking out about putting it all back on. Things are different over here, being surrounded by all the fast food… & of course, I’m not running myself ragged anymore. More like I’m sat sunning myself most days.. craving all sorts of foods & more often than not, giving in.

I’ve not been doing all that great on the chocolate/binge front either. I haven’t gone wild, oh no, not like before.. but I’m still doing it & I feel even worse afterwards.

This morning after a bowl full of chocolate ice-cream – my DQ welcome home cake – Thoughts of purging have been on my mind for the past hour or so. What the fuck. It’s been so long since I went down that road & I don’t want to go there again.

Back in Scotland the past 2 months I knew I was having a serious issue with food. Apparently I’d been seen drinking enough tea to fill an Olympic pool but never eating a thing. I guess that was pretty much true. Even when I went home at night I was making my excuses & skipping dinner. But you know what, I liked it that way. Fuck, I loved it that way.

Why I’m writing this I don’t know. Actually I do. Because keeping a secret like this is not a good idea. Been there, done that. At least if I can write about it here & of course, through this, Bear will know too.. & perhaps we can keep me…sane?

I know I’ll have put on weight – ha, I’ve been here what, 9 days & I’m freaking out – but I can tell, I can see it & I don’t fucking like it.

I may as well be completely honest here since I’ve already written enough to condemn myself & worry everyone all over again ; I’ve been frequenting the pro ED sites again.. fuck. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I should be having it easier over here since most people around me make me look tiny anyway. I tell you, finding several clothes stores that don’t stock your size is pretty ego boosting! Trying on a “small” & it being too big is a great feeling. Or am I crazy?

If ever I need a boost, if ever I need to feel attractive, all I have to do is walk down our street & watch the eyes.. but fuck, what’s the point in that if I don’t see it myself? Sometimes I’m so surprised at some of the people I catch checking me out. I can’t understand why they’d even look twice never mind once.

The first thing Bear’s mum said to me when she saw me last week was “Hello, Skinny!” I was like… hell yeah. But damn, I want to keep it up, I don’t want to go back to… well, was it even the fact I was heavier or was it the fact I had no confidence & would dress to hide? No chance in hell I’m wearing that big, frumpy shirt nowadays.

I don’t know, I’m confused. Honestly I just wish my mind would stop for a minute or two.