A Rose with Starry Eyes

{February 21, 2010}   guest star: violet, Part II.

More from Violet’s blog, including pics, insomnia, & song lyrics.

Part II.

“How she longed to get out of the dark hall, and wander among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway”

Thursday, 21 January 2010

Ode To Meloncholy

Warning – Long, disjointed, and not overly cheery.
It’s 12:06, and this seems an appropriate time to go to bed, but I’m there and it’s still the last thing on my mind.
I’m hungry.
I’m lonely.
I’m scared.
I can’t really explain it, but although restricting gives me this amazing sense of control, it also makes me incredibly anxious. What would vaguely annoy me while I was eating suddenly seems so much threatening when I’m not. Which means I have to eat less, to nullify this new threat. Which makes me more nervous. Which means…..blah blah blah. I have been here before. Its almost comical, like a bad joke where you can see the punchline coming over the horizon.
Let me make you a little prediction. I will continue like this for maybe a week or so, until I have pared down to about 300 calories, and then there will be something that triggers me into a full blown binge. I will be so disgusted and horrified at the damage I won’t have the motivation to do anything about it. I’ll be unused to starvation, and the first few days of starting again will fail, until I can finally get back into the swing of it. I’ll start off small, maybe 1000 calories, and this will build my confidence. After a while I’ll get a little frazzled, a little stressed, Little hungry and it will be necessary to cut down again. 900, 800, 700, 600, 500, 400, 300….Boom. 3,000.
I predict the trigger will be the restaurant on holiday. I hate restaurants, dear god above, they make my skin crawl. I’m always either binging or restricting. In this first place it means I’ll loose all control and eat my way through the menu, or I’ll freak out and sit in near silence while my head spins.
I have never eaten in a restaurant without my parents. I don’t think I’ve even eaten out of the house or school without them. I hate ordering food, that’s the problem. A few week ago I ordered a coffee from the Morrison’s cafe. That was scary. It felt like a victory at first, it was only when I sat down I realized what a failure it really was. The shame of being there with a tray and mug like everyone else, unable to cope the few hours with just water was too much.
That’s ridiculous. I can see that. I’m 18, and I can’t order a fucking coffee.
This would be understandable if I was thin, or at least, excusable. But I’m not. I keep glancing at my arms in the mirror. My arms are just so big. I don’t understand how I can be so disproportionate. I’m at the very edge of humanoid.
But I digress.
Ate 823 calories today, which perhaps explains my panicky state. It just seems too much. I tell myself you can’t gain weight on this, but my other self argues that is not the point. The point is I ate too much. All the arguments in the world won’t shut her up. She’s right. I did.
And now I feel that horrible dread, vulnerable and despairing that won’t leave.
I’m lonely.
Remember the ED lectures we’d get at school, on TV, in magazine. You’ll become withdrawn, and lose all your friends, and your life will suck (I’m paraphrasing). It’s not a scare tactic.
You know I really don’t believe anybody eats normally anymore. Something like 1% of teenage girls have eating disorders. I don’t doubt that. But that doesn’t mean 99% eat normally. They are all on some diet or another. It’s incredibly disappointing.
And it also provides so much more competition, and also validation. I’ve heard talk of fruit fasts, real fasts, calories in gum, coffee, lettuce, and that is just from a single 1 hour lunch break today. The real difference between eating normally and disordered eating is simple. They talk about it. We don’t. But everyone is doing it. If she’s doing it, then it can’t be dangerous, or disordered. It’s all a lie.
It makes you think. Why bother with recovery when all that’s going to change is that you’ll go on to Weight Watchers or some other shite, and you’ll be motivated by magazines rather than obsession. The result is the same. You’ll still feel fat.
And that pisses me off. What right does some magazine or TV show to dictate what or when or why I eat. I so fucking sick of all this.
I want to starve, but no one else. I can’t stand that this is so normal. Hundreds of people are in our shoes because they have no choice, they’ve been drawn to this by the same uncontrollable force. But thousands have come here willingly, thinking it will make them thin, pretty, happy. They’ll be corrected and get over it. We’ll be left here while they run back to sanity and how can you really tell the difference between the two groups. Then we’re told to do the same, run back. Well fucking help me then. It’s just not that easy. I never chose this.
I’ve made myself angry now.
I don’t know what I’m talking about.
Posted by Violet at 23:06
link: http://alicemaigrir.blogspot.com/2010/01/ode-to-meloncholy.html

Tuesday, 19 January 2010


I’m a big fan of the whole “calories are a measure of energy” theory. It’s nice, neat and most importantly, correct.
And we derive the simple equation this that the more calories in, the more energy you have, and sometimes you take in so much that it cannot be burnt and some must be stored, and you inflate. It’s also nice, neat and correct.
Note to self – stop being so energy-greedy. Don’t you know there’s an energy crisis occurring? Dear God, woman. Get a grip.
Anyway, I have a flaw with this theory. Why the fuck does under eating cause insomnia???
It seems mightily unfair. I’m taking in not enough calories. So even though the first few days where you have no energy suck, at least I can make peace with that because it is biologically plausible. Less calories = less energy = more fatigue…non?
But the next few days, when hunger begins to quieten and moves to the realm of a dim background humming, when sounds become distorted ad lights just seem…wrong. Why on earth does this happen? Why the intense, itchy energy that cannot be contain by these mere limbs?
I do enjoy most of this, most of the time. It’s like I have tricked science or God or whatever you believe controls this.
But it’s now 1:30 am and if the last few days have been anything to go by, I have a few more hours of staring at the ceiling before fitful, bizarre waking dreams and then waking with the birds.
I cannot switch off.
You know the bizarre, manic moods you get in at this point? I can see myself getting there, but am unable to stop. I heard someone discussing Virgil on the radio, and decided it was absolutely imperative that I go revise all my GCSE Latin, to refresh my memory. Cannot have it getting all stale on me. I took that exam years ago. I’ve reduced my bedroom to rubble trying to find my notes, and re learnt pages of vocab. But Latin was never a struggle. Greek however…
Got out all my Greek notes. Have translated the first 2 pages of the New Testament, before deciding it was time to rearrange my CDs. They were getting dusty from misuse (Sorry dear, dear, old friends, but the Ipod has outrun you).
Now have a room that looks like a bomb site, pages of notes pinned to the walls, books everywhere, clothes spewing from their drawers, because I keep having to get another jumper.
But here’s the punchline. My Biology A Level is tomorrow. The big bad wolf one. The one I need an A in. What to do, what to do…?
I know. Let’s pace through the detritus and write out all the possible meal combinations from The McDonalds’ Menus. Then the calories for each combo. Then the predicted weight gain from each meal, if eaten on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis (If anybody wants this info, drop me a line)
I’m hungry.
But then they said Maggie Thatcher survived on 4 hours sleep a night. I don’t care about your politic views, you cannot deny she was impressive. Even terrible things can be impressive.
Oh, you want more?
More crazy talk from the girl with wild hungry eyes?
I watched the docu-film Earthling last night, on recommendation from some other blog. Not to be dismissive of them, I just don’t remember their blog’s name – sorry about that. Anyway, I learnt a lot about the horrors of the pet industry, which shocked and repulsed me, but did not surprise me. I already knew most of the rest and worse, but it was still pretty horrific viewing. Made me more motivated to stick to my guns, I guess it would convert others too.
But the drugs bit pissed me off no end. The whole basis of the film was that animals feel and think and work just like humans. But then suddenly at the end, no, they are completly useless and scientists are all evil sadists who experiment on animals for no reason other than their own enjoyment.
It was a little biased.
Again, I don’t care about your political views, for right or wrong, animal experimentaion has saved millions of lives, and improved the quailty of life for even more. That’s just fact.
I guess you might have to watch the film to understand what I’m talking about.
There’s a box of paracetamola and codeine downstairs, unused. That would knock me out, but I don’t know the dosage and could easily not wake up for Exam tomorrow. Which would be unfortunate.
I wonder why that was what first occured to me – Not I might not wake up, but I might not wake up for the exam.
Quotes – A Version of Reason – So the only way for me to gain control was cutting myself a little bit …you know, vague little cuts, and not eating very much. And then I found I was really good during the day.
Major de ja vu.
Am going to bed now. There must be something I can read.
Posted by Violet at 01:08 4 comments
link: http://alicemaigrir.blogspot.com/2010/01/sleepflower.html

Thursday, 14 January 2010

Declaration Of Independence.

Fuck normal eating. I’m so done with that. Banana smoothie. Plain toast. Grilled veggies. And coffee. That’s it. Nothing else is necessary, more than this just causes problems. No more greasy spread on my clean, clean, safe bread. No more salty snacks, no more of the sugar laden curses that whisper so sweetly in your ear. No more no more.
I’m back, baby!
In Control…
So if this means that I’m still at the mercy of something other than my own reasoning as I suspected, so be it. Because I’m so goddamn sick of this life of the wasted time, the mundane, the bitter, the missed opportinites and the lard.
I don’t care anymore if it the wrong thing to do, because at least it’s something.
Posted by Violet at 14:41
link: http://alicemaigrir.blogspot.com/2010/01/declaration-of-independence.html

Wednesday, 13 January 2010


I won’t comment on my food intake until Friday, when I’ll know if I managed it.
I’m a little lost at the moment. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do. I’m still worried about Friday. What will happen, now that I’m actually an adult? I’m scared of waking up and everything being different, because I’m mostly happy with how things are at the moment. But if nothing changes, then things will be the same, and I don’t want that either. I don’t know what I want, which makes it difficult to achieve.
“No matter how thin you get it’ll always be you underneath” – Wasted. It’s true and I hate that, but I think I’d still like to be thin, regardless.
Let me leave you with this then, since I have nothing to say myself. It is taken from the To Write Love On Her Arms website. It’s an American charity, to raise money for suicide prevention. I would suggest they are a better church, better friends than they are a charity because there are more worthwhile causes, but as a philosophical study, it’s really rather beautiful… Enjoy.
You are going to move through this.
More importantly, I love you. YOU ARE GOING TO MOVE THROUGH THIS.
Don’t be defeated. Submit yourself to the process. You are growing. You are changing. You are doing LIFE.
I am not trying to make you feel better. This fucking hurts, and there are no two ways around it.
But I am trying to encourage you to not retreat. I can’t remove the pain, but I am going to hold your hand while it hurts.
Continue to reach out. You need people right now.
I’m here for anything you need.
You are LOVED in ways you cannot imagine. In ways that don’t depend on you. In ways that don’t depend on your performance. In ways that cannot be lost. Remember Remember Remember.
Love you my friend.
– Anonymous

Posted by Violet at 13:55
link: http://alicemaigrir.blogspot.com/2010/01/hope.html

Monday, 11 January 2010

Maths Error

Maths exam went horribly. I’m unspeakably angry at myself, can’t believe I went into that evidently so under-prepared.
Then came home and went on a binging spree from the moment I came in the door until right about now. Because that will make it all better? Food will erase those failures?
Not. Why did I even begin to think that. What on earth is wrong with me? Calories? Several million, judging by the wrappers and plates that now clutter my room. Barely remember eating most of it. Why do I do this. It’s just so very very stupid.
I need a new start. I need to get away. My head is just to noisy right now.
I want to fast, but I tell myself that would probably be a bad idea, what with the exams still to be done. Maybe that’s just an excuse. Maybe I’m just too weak now.
But I can’t think about that because that means I’m going nowhere and I couldn’t stand that, if I was stuck like this forever.
Need a new food plan. Need a new life. How do you even go about doing that.
I need, quite clearly, men in white coats and sterile rooms. Lock me up and throw away the key, and for goodness sake’s do not let me near the fridge. I’d eat my way through the supermarket if they’d let me.
Back later, to read all your blogs, after I’ve worked out what damage control needs to be done, at least until Friday.
Here’s some thinspo, purely to remind myself that “thin” is still possible.

link: http://alicemaigrir.blogspot.com/2010/01/maths-error.html

Sunday, 10 January 2010

Tea comes in all the colours of the radio…

…and my favourites are green and strawberry.
Had a thoroughly, thoroughly dull day at work, but got off early because there were no customers. Apparently, snow could be a cure for obesity – no one wants fast food in the snow.
Then walked home in said snow, which was beautiful and calm and quiet and most importantly burnt the calories from lunch at the stake. Die, calories, die, burn in rotten, firey hell.
Ha. I’m so crazy I scare myself.
So I’m re-reading my maths notes ready for my exam tomorrow, which I am coincidentally not ready for, contemplating life.
I’m 18 on Friday. I’m quite sad about this. I am now a grown up. I play with my food, and build duvet forts, and watch Simpsons with the curtains drawn “cinema style” to celebrate Fridays, but apparantly I’m an adult.
This is scary. First I will turn 18, then I will move out and then I will wake up one day and realise that my mammy won’t make me fishfingers and chips anymore, and my daddy won’t do my hair . Because grown ups don’t eat fish fingers or have Led Zepplin inspired haircuts for their first day of primary.
I’m not kidding by the way, my parents are awesome.
Fuck it. I’m gonna fail all my exams and have to stay back a year. Hehehe sneaky.
I will however get prezzies for being 18. The spirit on consumerism is alive and well in me. Awesome.
Food was good today, except for a maple-pecan-danish-pastry that I purged. maybe I really can do this.
Wanna know something gross? It tasted good coming up too.
You know you were thinking it too.
Sleep well my pretties, because Monday’s coming to find you like the hangover you deserve.
PS – Sorry for the hyper rambling, I’m excited about the week of exams and birthdays.
PPS – I’m still addicted to the Manics

link: http://alicemaigrir.blogspot.com/2010/01/tea-comes-in-all-colours-of-radio.html

Friday, 8 January 2010

A Grave Error.

Back from School. Was unsurprisingly dull. Nearly broke my frigging neck trying to walk there and back on street that have turned into ice skating rinks.
In Maths, I sit behind the “Gym Bunnies”. The 4 girls who are the bane of my life. Two hours, every week, I listen to them discuss the same 3 topics;

  1. The Gym, working out, weight and measurements
  2. Food. Just so they know how much working out, weighing and measurement to talk about.
  3. The boys at the gym.

I do not give a fuck about the last one but the first 2 are clearly something that bothers me a lot.
But please, PLEASE, please kill me if I ever start to go on the incessant gym-related squealings they find so fascinating. It’s not even hardcore. It’s all Atkins and cross training. I find this very dull.
Had they been discussing fasting and proper diets, I might have found it more interesting. I find it a little bizarre that these 4 beautiful, intelligent young women are so obsessed with eating exactly 1500 a day, just because they heard that’s how many you should eat to be slim, not sick. Not that I dispute it, the average popular weight loss does contain about this much, but it is clearly not an eating disorder. This is some other diet obsession. Some other disease which leaks through the consciousness of our generation, but should not be confused with an eating disorder.
Anyway, I’m getting side tracked. Here’s my main point.
The ring leader, let’s called her Head Bunny, starts bitching that she has a body fat percentage of 25%. They are all shocked, but one of them, knowledgebly informs them that that is healthy and they look disappointed. I expect they were enjoying a moment of thinking Head Bunny was fat. (She was right by the way, that’s normal, but I was peeved because she is a smart alec and I hate it that she know everything)
And then she (Head Bunny) goes, “…I’m 15kg of fat, ewie, megalolz, ect ect squeals, ect…”
And so she weighs 60kg, or 132 lbs. She’s my height, and also has DD bra size. I’m not a Bunny stalker she just happens to fling these casual bits of information my way during these weekly torture sessions.
I remember 60kg.
It was possibly at the height of bulimia.
Head Bunny is gorgeous. Is it really possible that I had a body of equal height, weight and dimensions (I was also 25% body fat) and binged and purged it all away.
Please, please don’t tell me I was blind to that.

I have starved myself well below and binged well above that point since then. Please don’t tell me I had found that glorious thing we are all searching for, the happy medium and not realising it, had thrown it away.
Could I really have been so blind?
But she is strong, healthy, toned. Her hair and skin shine and she could be a page 3 girl, easy…
I have no pictures from that time save one head shot which I keep to reming me the dangers of bulimia. I look like a corpse. I’m not thin in the slightest, I am in fact arguably chubby. But my hair is spilt and thin with bald patches. My skin is pure grey. My eyes aren’t focused. My glands are swollen.
I say I had flu. It was a wake up call. I wouldn’t say I’m any less disordered now than I am then, because I still restrict and whinge and bitch and cry and weigh and measure and lose and gain and….live it.
But at that time the choice was very stark. You eat, and you eat 3-5000 calories a day, or you do not, and you go without even water for 3 days.
900 calories a day isn’t really very healthy, or impressively hardcore, but it’s what I’m aiming for.
There’s a knife edge that I’m clinging on to for dear life. On one side, we have gluttony, feasting, the horrible realization that the fat has got hold of you and you will never escape, you cannot breathe. On the other side we have sickness and disease, and eyes that are blind to what the mirror is telling you.
I don’t want to be fat, but neither do I wish to be blind.
My idea of normality isn’t very normal, but it’s good enough for now.
Once again, thanks for reading. This was hard to write and I appreciate the fact that there are people reading it and supporting me.

Posted by Violet at 16:03


For my racing team we don’t have specific weight classes, but it’s generally considered that for the driver, lighter is better. Urgh, just listening to some of the other girls go on and on about their weights, eating habits, hypothesizing other girl’s weights, who should and shouldn’t be allowed to wear spandex as pants (in my opinion: no one!) based on how fat they are…. ARGH!, haha I didn’t realized how much listening to that every day gets to me!
But I really admire you for trying to find a medium. In some ways I think that’s even harder? It took a lot to come out and write what you feel and I really wish you all the best.


Friday, 8 January 2010

A Tangible Goal

Hello my beautiful readers. The sun has risen and everything has that new-dawn prettyness about it.
Something tells me today is going to be a good day.
I’m actually going to go to school to day, simply because it starts at 11 and therefore even my lazy ass has no excuse not to.
I have 10 calorie jelly in the fridge, and found my old stash of tea. I have approximately 635 tea bags in my room now, plus my shiny new kettle! Life could not be better.
So I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be returning to Ireland before the month is out. I have an exam on my birthday, and have been told that a “surprise” will be following after they are all over.
It’s not really a surprise since my mother is too technologically clueless to wipe her history, but nonetheless I’m a very happy bunny.
And this also gives me a new short term goal. I want to be below the next BMI point by the time I touch ground on Irish soil, which means losing maybe 4 pounds? I’ll have to check the scale, I’ve been avoiding it like the palgue, but it seems doable.
Wishing you all a happy Friday.
PS It was 70 years ago today that the British government first started rations, and it was possibly the healthiest our UK diet has been since.

Posted by Violet at 09:06

link: http://alicemaigrir.blogspot.com/2010/01/tangible-goal.html

Thursday, 7 January 2010

Don’t be stupid girl.

I have nothing to say, so I’ll leave you with somebody else’s words tonight. The song is Mascara by Killing Heidi.

Stumbling along looking at nothing,
Because your eyes are always on your feet.
If you ever looked up,
You’d see the sun,
And the morning,
You wonder why thinks are so bleak.

Boring and old are the things your told about the outside world.
And just wearing black won’t take care of that,
Don’t be stupid girl.

Walking and always talking,
But never listening you just kick back.
So how do you handle all the bullshit that gets thrown your way?

Boring and old are the things your told about the outside world.
And just wearing black won’t take care of that,
Don’t be stupid girl.
Don’t be stupid down on your knees trying to appease somebody’s mixed up statement,
Cause in not much time your beliefs are the lies with be left by the pavement.
They’ll be left by the way…

I’ve been doing some thinking,
‘Bout all your preaching and I don’t want to know.
‘Cause that’s just conforming,
And that is not what you want to be.

Boring and old are the things your told about the outside world.
And just wearing black won’t take care of that,
Don’t be stupid girl.
Don’t be stupid down on your knees trying to appease somebody’s mixed up statement,
Cause in not much time your beliefs are the lies with be left by the pavement.
They’ll be left by the way…

Oh don’t be so stupid girl,
Your in your world.
Don’t dress in black,
Won’t take care of that.
Don’t be so,
Be so stupid girl.

Posted by Violet at 17:31
link: http://alicemaigrir.blogspot.com/2010/01/dont-be-stupid-girl.html

An Intro

How about a first post?
Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with my life story. You do not need to know about my name, age, pets or siblings.
So know this.
My name is Violet, and I have a loose grip on reality. Sometimes, I would like to shake it off all together. And so I do it my the easiest and most effective I know. I lost the bedroom door and climb inside a book. Hunger helps, and coffee makes the whole thing even more cliched. Give it an hour or two and you forget that the earth still turns and you will soon have to rejoin it. It’s all very teenage and melodramatic, and this is my life. Welcome.
So on to the workings of today.
I didn’t go to school. I had a sneaking suspicion that would happen. Bad girl. But in my defense, my exams are in 7 days, and I really did spend more time more wisely at home working than at school.
I always use that excuse. I have a habit of not showing up, but I never fritter away my time and cash shopping or having fun. I’m always at home, reading, watching House or Monk (the two men in my life). But I always work, even more than if I had gone to school, and therefore it is pointless feeling guilty.
Actually I should feel guilty for wasting these opportunities but I don’t and I can’t see anything making me change.
Lazy bitch.
So today I revised about 5 chapters of biology, reread half of The Lovely Bones (I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to dip into after a shower but I got caught up. It’s a great book.) I also watched half an episode of House then felt lazy so did a practice paper for maths, and tidied my room. Tonight I will do more Maths, go on the exercise bike and make dinner.
I am aware my life is hideously boring and I think I am the only one who could live it without going crazy. But I love it.
Food wise, I woke up with a binge hangover. Gross. Yuk. Felt awful all morning. Ate strawberries, popcorn, and soup. Will have some veggies later, maybe some fish. Not too bad. Nothing feels excessive after yesterday.
Get back in control, Violet.
Going now, to play with numbers.

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