Gain

                                                                                              Mood:Crazy

Starts to Rain

I think maybe it will stop soon..

It's raining Cats and Dogs

Toning Shoes on, full of strong Coffee ready to go..

65 degrees outside and getting colder

So much for a fun day out



My daughter is so disappointed



Bye Bye Museum!



Park's closed due to the weather



Not happy, and the day continues to go downhill from here on..



I get drunk last night, first I binge and don't purge. I'm triggered because someone says skinny people have heart attacks too. My chest hurts and I feel dizzy as it is. I don't imagine a huge gain, not yet so I eat, it's stupid crap too, why did I eat that non sense? I then drink. My husband comes home at midnight tired from work and is surprised to see me with the bottle of red wine on the table. I'm already plastered and its only been two glasses. He stays up with me and shares the Merlot. My spine is in agony, I sit down and I suffer now, he rubs my legs and back, my spine is visible for all to see.

"What's this?" my husband agitates the end of my vertebrae, the last disk on my spine. He then begins to see if he can feel his own bone. He can't.

That's where the spine ends, it hurts when I sit all the time now.

"That's because you have no fat on your body anymore, you have no muscle, you're just skin." he looks at me with intense studious eyes.

I'm in no mood to hear this, I know I have no ass, maybe I need to buy one of those underwear with the butt pads sewed in already, could help ease this constant pain I feel.

My legs hurt too, I miss the treadmill, I feel as though I've lost all the muscle and definition in my legs.

My husband rubs them and I see concern in his eyes, the silent sighing is evident.

"Why do you have so many bruises on your legs?" he continues the questioning.

I don't know why? I'm just full of bruises..

The drinking continues until 3am. The more I ingest, the more the life I live gets blurred. I go to bed only to wake up at 6am trying to purge realizing the stupidity of last night's binge and no purge. Too late nothing but acid and wine reminders. 

You idiot! I weigh and yep 108; Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck!!!

I exercise and shower, afterwards around 7am I go ahead and cook breakfast, I figure maybe if I b/p again I can manage to bring it down. I make waffles and scrambled eggs with bacon. I eat chips and cereal, bagels and sandwiches. I eat until it hurts. I go purge and it works 107, better but not good enough. I'm a fool. Two pounds, but my body looks no different. I'm still thin. I cry and feel like I'm going nuts!

What is the problem, so what 107, so! I'm still skinny, I'm not 200lbs again, I'm still fine, why is this so hard? I'm sure the weight will go down, I know my period is also contributing to this gain, or water retention or dehydration, a number of things that are just fucking driving me insane. I'm still okay, why can't I accept that?

I finally pull it together, we have a family outing today, can't let my daughter see what a physco her mother is.

So I'm 107. Fine, you deserve that stupid bitch, you ate and you know how quickly it comes back on. You deserve that.

At the gas station and I'm trying my hardest to not be a bitch. I'm being incredibly polite and pleasant. I head inside with my husband and daughter to get coffee and snacks for the hour's drive to the museum. The day is dark and cloudy, 60% chance rain and we think just maybe the day can still be salvaged.

In the gas station I get looks. I don't understand why. I'm wearing my size 0 skinny blue jeans. A long sleeve grey shirt and of course the new Toning Shoes. A man and two women stare as I prepare my coffee. Splenda, few pumps of creamer and I still feel their eyes on me?

My husband, bless his little heart what a trooper, gets me bananas and gum. Its like he knows now all the tips and things I know. He's a handy enabler I'll give em that.

My daughter gets Orange Juice and hubby gets a danish and espresso.

In the car I ask him if he noticed anything.

"You need to eat something Lulu, you're too dam skinny. Just eat something, I don't care what, something..." his voice trails off at the end and we pull out of the gas station onto traffic. I suspect his patience wearing thin.

Now come the mood swings. I feel like crying. I feel like a monster.

I need help. I need a hug and I desperately wish that I knew an actual Mia sufferer in my vicinity that I could hang out with and really talk to. I need to see in person someone else who goes through this. I wouldn't feel so alone then.

The drive is long and cold. The rain is coming down and I feel like telling my husband maybe we should reconsider and go somewhere else, but I don't want him to think its because of a mood swing, its not. So we continue our drive further and further into the cold and rain.

The cold is eating at me, my god I'm so cold. My chest is screaming at me. I drink the coffee and eat three bananas. I start to sum up calories, why do I do this?

We make it, and of course the weather ruins our plans. Nothing left to do except eat of course. A buffet.

I have a huge panic attack. I break down finally and confess.

I need help, I'm worried about eating all that food and how many calories I'll consume.

No one gets it.

"Eat you'll be fine, just eat Salad?"

I continue to panic, he hands me Gatorade, I sip it but that's not the problem. For one hour exactly my chest aches and I feel like today is the day when I will die. Today is the day when my heart says enough, I can't do this anymore, I tried to keep you alive but no more, I don't understand what direction we're headed?

The windshield wiper is on full speed and I start to count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

I calm down momentarily before it begins all over again.

I'm cold, my car has no working heater or air conditioning, the window has to stay down or the windshield will fog up. I'm so cold.

We pull into a dollar store and buy sweaters, none fit me me in the woman's section so I have no choice but to buy a boys sweater. The cashier takes the alarm off the gray sweater and hands it to my daughter, I awkwardly smile and correct her.

It's for me. You should have seen this woman's expression.

I don the fabric and we leave the warm store.

Finally the buffet is near and the panic attack feels like a punishment. I think about what an actual Heart Attack would feel like and how long before I have one?

My husband wants to go home, my daughter keeps talking about all the goodies she will eat. I tell him that I'll be okay, I don't want to disappoint her.

Finally at the buffet we are seated, I head immediately to the soup and then load up my tray.

The hot soup is nice, I eat and the have to pee. In the bathroom I decide to see if I can purge.

I don't like to purge at restaurants, I feel too paranoid and I can never be sure if it's all out. This time though the food came up all on its own, no fingers needed.

I'm empty and head back to our table. I continue to eat.

The second purge just as easy and what do you know, I'm not alone, the woman in the stall next to me is puking too, she is an employee, I don't know her story, oh well.

This new development cancels out the anxiety. I'm now b/p with utter joy!

Salads, meat, desserts, I love it. I'm on a new high and I feel as though if I lived closer to this buffet, I would do this again tomorrow. Why has my body decided to cooperate all of a sudden? This is bad. This is a floodgate that shouldn't be open.

My husband and daughter are done of course, I feel as though I could keep going.

Back home now and the last binge couldn't be purged on account of our rushed leave. My stomach is hard and I start to worry about the gain from yesterday. 107.

I'm ready to purge at home.

In the bathroom and I show my husband my distended stomach, I'm on the new high of purging in public still.

He hugs me tight and tries to kiss me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

"I'm so worried about you Lulu, you're so skinny, why can't you see that?"
Can't you see? I'm insane.
He looks like he wants to cry, he hugs me tight now and wants to look me in the eye, all I want to do is weigh and purge.
Hand me my scale, I need to see what the damage is, I'm fat. I'm fucked up, I'm too far gone now, I don't know how to be normal anymore. The minute I get my insurance card in the mail I'll try to get better. I think you should have never cheated on me, I hope she was worth it, I hope she's happy now, that bitch stole my happiness.
 I need to throw up now can you please leave?
He does and I hate myself, I'm no better than he is. We're both suffering.
The scale says 112.8 and I immediately start to purge, I don't need fingers anymore, its all out on its own. I'm both relieved and scared. The minute I want to stop this, it gets easier.
106 now.
The rest of yesterday's wine is now finished. I'm drunk.
I feel fat. Its just one pound and I can't stand it. How will I ever maintain like this?
I think I really fucked up this time...
I don't know how I will every have a normal life again. I'm not well. Who could ever love a mess like me?
My husband doesn't love me, he loves my daughter, right now he's just trying to regain that horrible year that we were separated. That time is lost and gone and so am I.
I don't need a care taker or pity. I need an exit, a time out.
I need the reset button to be pressed for thirty seconds.

What's so wrong with 106?
I think recovery will have to be forced.
Push me, I'm too scared to jump.