{February 25, 2010}
thinspo: non-people images
{February 14, 2010}
ACTUAL thinspo
{February 14, 2010}
reverse thinspo time!!!
Under the cut is some REALLY graphic reverse thinspo. REALLY graphic. DO NOT CLICK WHILE AT SCHOOL. NSFW.
(Do you want to become like these? If not, then fasting holds the keys.)
{February 13, 2010}
tough love approach to fatties
Think Yourself Thin article criticizes fat people’s “middle class mind set”, says “overweight people are living in an alternate reality”.
(more after the cut)
{February 13, 2010}
Protected: ana bracelet idea :)
{February 12, 2010}
my creative writings ~ triggering
what do we say when they say we can’t do it?
we say, “Fuck YOU, Bitch!”
what do we say when we’re halfway through it?
we say, “Fuck YOU, BITCH!”
what do we do when we’re too weak to starve
we say, “FUCK YOU, BITCH!”
what do we do when we’re when we’re thin and not large,
we say, “Take THAT, Bitch!”
what do we do when she’s says she’s gotten thinner
we keep playin’ games and we show her who’s the winner
she can say all the wants about needing new jeans
because we know in the end she’s not as sick as she seems!
STOP. DON’T reach for those chips, FATASS. DON’T stretch out your stomach even more.
you see those two things hanging off your chest like jiggly dead lumps of flesh
that’s ALL those are- thick, dead, FAT suspended from some strips of cloth that aren’t even big enough to fit your mammaries.
those are NOT sexy.
those are the type of boobs that will be hanging down to your belly button a few years from now.
do you think somebody wants to hug you when they can’t get their fucking ARMS around you?!
do you think you’ll be able to wave your hand in the air without your “wings” flapping majestically in the breeze?!
do you EVER want to be able to flaunt your stuff in front of a bunch of stupid guys at the pool?
do you EVER want to be able to beat Shiney at her own stupid game?
you can lose all the weight you WANT and without solid, physical proof of it-
(ie, people getting concerned, or, I dunno, maybe people even fucking noticing,)
you’re not getting ANYWHERE.
don’t you want to be like that girl on set whose director, whose producer, whose stylist, whose whatever is freaking out over if she ate enough?
don’t you want to look good to a camera at any angle, not have to pose a certain way in the right lighting with your head down at a slant?
(the camera tells the truth, y’know. if you think it was “just a bad shot” or the angle or your expression or something, you’re wrong. it’s what everyone else sees you as.)
don’t you want to be like elle mcphearson, the mother two at age 45 who still looks like a freaking college student?!
she makes all the other soccer moms jealous.
don’t you want to make all the other soccer moms at your school jealous?
you could have the body for it, y’know- if you tried hard enough.
naturally tall and curved, but just enough, not too much-
just carve away at the excess fat there and you could be QUITE a hottie.
no longer one of those “ooh, hot library gi- oh no wait, it’s just stand proud” chicks.
a HAW-TEE.
you could wear skinny jeans.
you could be a size fucking zero and still have tits. (your one blessing!)
you could be the american dream.
all you have to do is staple your fucking mouth SHUT for a minute and listen to me.
when have I ever steered you wrong?
you think I can’t give all this shit to you- a longer life span, a hotter physique, better clothes, a dancer’s body, some boys who can maybe stand to look at you without gagging?
I can, and it’s all very simple.
All you have to do is-
STOP shoving food into your mouth whenever you feel bored or upset or procrastinate or something.
STOP taking it out on the people around you and START channeling your ambition towards something GOOD for you!
STOP taking second place to Shiney at everything and get some fucking SELF-RESPECT!
so just step away from the tortilla chips, try NOT to eat 2 bowls of ice cream when I’m not looking,
And,
whatever you do,
DON’T think that tomorrow is a fresh slate.
because the calories you ate last night will STILL be there tomorrow morning.
they will STILL be clinging to your cheeks, your face, your stupid fucking hips, and ESPECIALLY
your
breasts.
so DON’T tell yourself it’ll be better by tomorrow.
because it WON’T.
you need to realize that what you ate three years ago is still on your thighs.
that binge on half a loaf of toast with jam after kayla kicked you off the lunch table?
yeah, still clinging to the back of your arms.
all those smuckers patties and chocolate malt milk you chugged furtively in the library during lunch when no one would let you sit with them?
all over your face.
those 3 and a half bowls of ice cream after you got so upset that you binged again?
that’s still padding on your fucking ASS, isn’t it, you imbecile!
maybe there’s a reason Rach calls you the human garbage disposal.
maybe there’s a reason ____
maybe you should STOP EATING when you’re FULL!
maybe even before you’re full.
maybe then we could finally GET SOMEWHERE!!!
don’t you want to dance, truly dance, for the first time in your life?
do you even remember what it’s like to take a shower without support?
when was the last time you turned down food, huh?
I mean, truly. Did you want that food? That cake, that chocolate, those fries, that utter SHIT that happened to be lying around the kitchen during your perpetual weak moment?
Well now you can dance, and you can swim, and you can take a shower and you might even skinny-dip with my help.
You can even turn down food for the first time in your pathetic life- you can even turn it down without wanting it!
I can cure you of this illness you have, this addiction to food that is destroying your life.
Don’t tell me that you don’t look in the mirror every day and feel a little bit disgusted at what you are?
Don’t tell me it doesn’t bother you every time you can’t get a pose right in yoga class because you can’t fucking move properly?
Aren’t you sick of the boob jokes, the porn star jokes, the way everyone assumes that a woman with your tits must be Drew’s mother rather than his 2-years-older sister?!
Don’t you want to change?
How did it feel to look at Rosie from the ACLU and see her rockin’ that black halter top?
That same halter top that hangs in your closet and you can never wear again-
partly because you probably stretched it out, partly because when you wore it all your friends either shielded their eyes or said it was “blinding”.
Wow.
You almost turned a bunch of lesbians straight.
Billy Graham would be proud.
But I doubt that Hollywood would, and I doubt that J would, and I doubt anybody else would either.
And I doubt that Rita Hayworth or Marilyn Monroe or Ingrid Bergman or that anybody else worthwhile would’ve gotten this reaction either-
(And they’re all fucking dead!!!)
AND they’re still better than you.
So, wow, you really suck, huh?
But if someday you can get to the point with your body that you can actually fit into that halter top without sucking in your stomach or your boobs spilling out,
If maybe you can actually wear that top in public without getting arrested for indecency,
if maybe, just maybe, you can scrounge what little willpower you have left and succeed to the point that your life doesn’t seem so hopeless,
then maybe you’re not a total waste after all.
maybe.
Shiney:
make her jealous of you; 5′ 10″ in size zero skinny jeans
now you’re the one posting on Rach’s wall that you’ve “….shrunk”.
swishy hair and high-high-heels, you won’t make the same mistakes as her-
you’ll never be that stupid “hot girl’s ugly, easy friend” who they used and ridiculed, like she was, so unknowingly.
you’ll never try too hard like she did, her stupid mousy, squeaky teapot voice straining to please as her glitter boobs dangled and her fuck-me heels clacked.
you are not the teacher’s pet; you are merely there to collect your inheritance, the queen bee throne that is rightfully yours. you do not have to work so hard.
you used to beg her to make you social; now you’ll be the one with the friends and she’ll be the one on the outside.
won’t it just kill her that while she’s losing all this imaginary weight, you’re shedding that fatty cocoon and emerging a sleek, sexy butterfly?
[[[[[imagine people commenting on your newly slim physique as she loudly insists that her vitamin water has calories!
imagine that empty feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realizes that no one is listening; that Mr. Co-Dependnet is assuring you that you look sexy but how many days have you been fasting anyways, I thought you’d stop at 10, and you just laugh and flip your hair and say something about how don’t worry, I’m only doing this fast for spiritual reasons. Just trying to achieve enlightenment.
and everyone looks at you in your newly thin body and the way your legs go so-so-so-so long in that miniskirt, how sexy you are in that edgy urban fashion, and suddenly you have your pick of the seniors, and then the shape up teacher is concerned and call you in to talk about your measurements- “dropping from 145 to 110 pounds in 2 months really isn’t healthy, Rose”- and that bitch is practically sick with how much you succeeded at what she always failed at.
///it becomes almost an urban legend how no one’s seen you eat in a year- but any guy at school who’s seen you would get into a fistfight to defend your honor, so people really only whisper.
Shiney begins to stalkerishly check your facebook profile and glare at pictures of you, perfectly proportioned in a bardot bikini. ]]]]]]
won’t it just kill her that not only
[[[[[
anything is possible with ana. no possibility left un-considered.
the star of the school musical, the school play, both the school plays,
a model and the only one at your school to get cast in an indie film, that gets distribution, that catapults you to stardom…?
your GPA magically turned around (ha, ha!) and your life on-track to a scholarship.
and where is she? waitressing with aunt flo up north? still ever-hovering as nick’s pathetic groupie?
-freedom in your cage;
“it’s like living in a bouncy castle!”
-spend hours doing plies and stretches and just dancing all those aches away- {except}
but it’s hard to achieve a dream when you can’t even show up to the audition without looking like an elephant, isn’t it?
gazelles leap. elephants go thud and squash people.
oh sure, an elephant can occasionally balance on a giant ball without falling over,
and maybe once or twice at the circus their clumsy, bastardized version of grace has captured the attention of children for a moment or two.
but is that all you wanna be?
just some elephant in a balancing act that maybe looks decent, occasionally?!
No. You were born for something better than that.
And that’s why I’m here-
because with my help, you WILL dance.
with my help, you WON’T go thud when you hit the floor.
with my help, you can achieve a passable human shape after all.
-desexualized, media, etc. like eve hewson, 27 club; just feeling safe, prepubescent, jutting hipbones and birdlike bones with long, graceful arms and legs that go on forever.
“I never got my chance to be a/ play at Lolita; I skipped straight to being mistaken for a 35 year old mother of 2 rather than a 15-year-old nymphet. No wonder I was so pissed off.”
flowing hair, long body, no back aches, no sucking things in. (Here Comes the Sun)
not afraid of your face when you meet people anymore.
{February 12, 2010}
trigger & collage ideas, Shiney update, etc.
OK, so today Shiney decided to wear absolutely HIDEOUS face makeup again, the way she used to; it’s all sort of vines and little flowers and stuff, and tacky Egyptian looking scrawls around the eyes, like in a heiroglyph. I think it was eyepencil rather than liquid eyeliner. When I asked her if it was supposed to be flowers, she just said “I don’t know – I just scribbled all over my face! They’re just scribbles.” Like she was some genius or something. She looks so dumb. I can’t help but wonder if my exercise facebook status and my Wasted book really was taken as a challenge…
More funny Shiney news: she apparently was going to give the guy’s friend $25 if he went to prom with her as a friend, and $50 if it turned into something more. And she’d texted Rach to say that she would “put out” on a first date. Shaggy not only found out, but he still wouldn’t go out with her!! XD Plus, Twin Red was complaining today about how she always comes over to talk to Mr. Co-dependent when he doesn’t even like her; no one at our table likes her! (I still get a kick out of how freaked he is that she’s always soclosetohim.)
Yet another Shiney update: she’s been doing the disordered eating thing since 2 years ago, but while she was dating her Ex it wasn’t as bad. Since he dumped her, though, things have gotten worse again. She still does the dumbass goldfish crackers diet, she’s still taking Concerta (which is like Adderall), and she might even still be doing S.I. or something for all I know. That explains why she wore the stupid makeup today… It’s funny though, that I was just looking over a list a few days ago of the things I would want to make her do to herself – the eyeliner scribbles was one of them. Another thing was that her BF would post ugly scanty photos of her online- and it happened from her cell “by accident”. That’s so weird… I need to re-baptize my “spirit” and see if I can’t get it working for me. Tonight.
I haven’t told anyone at school about the audition. I updated my LJ blog and told my little brother, but that’s all. I don’t want to jinx it, and it’ll be a surprise if I DO get the part, after all! 🙂 I just don’t know what else I’ll talk about in the mean time… (EDIT: I told Rach, but I truly had a good feeling about it. Not Xang, though… she was pretty nuetral today.)
My legs are super-ultra-sore, although when I showed my brother the muscle definition he literally said “wow”. I really need to start training something else… I will move the table today to do callanetics. My abs need work. AND I haven’t exactly lost weight lately – my problem is that I keep bingeing afterschool. This NEEDS to be remedied, ASAP. My biggest weakness is definitely cereal with yogurt followed by salty goldfish crackers…. What can I do? I should eat more protein afterschool, like eggs and turkey or something. Spend less time in the kitchen, I guess… More time at the local college. More time collaging there. All I know is that I NEED to get to 120 lb (same weight as my little bro, BTW!), and it needs to show on a scale and in real life. My jeans need to be slipping off my hips. I need to do weight training on my pudgy arms, too…
Collage idea for Shiney collage (since she is a major trigger, after all):
- “legalized speed” pics and quote
- an (unused!) hello kitty bandaid
- photocopied version of the breakup note, key parts cut out and pasted
- random facebook statuses from her
- really bad pic of her with the eyes crossed out
- vitamin water pic
- little mermaid pic (from Disney catalogue?)
- quote from her facebook: “This is me at my lowest weight, which I saw for one day and never again…”
- a gold star sticker! XD
- pics of goldfish crackers (from coupon?)
- Rocky Rococo’s pizza (from coupon?)
Another trigger idea: red bracelet (ask Xang to make one for me so she doesn’t gwet suspicious); there’ll be a double-edged trigger there. 1) A reminder that everytime I reach for food and see the bracelet, I don’t want any, and 2) Xang made it for me, and Xang doesn’t think I have a real disorder. She thinks I’m “trying to get to where she was before so [they’ll] have to have a lunuch table intervention”.
I should also make additional recordings from Wasted, Chainless Soul, reasons to be thin, Shiney’s facebook statuses, ana mantras, visualizations, etc. and download to my ipod.
I originally had thought of writing triggers on myself with marker, but maybe henna is a better idea, since it’s natural! It’s something I know that Xang used to do, all over herself- her stomach and her legs, etc. I should circle the parts I need to work on (that can be hidden by clothes) and write a mantra/etc on every different area. I can put goals, quotes, etc. On my wrist I can write the number I want to be: 120. 30 pounds away. (Unless I’m over 150 already!)
I just printed out a really thick packet of stuff from my blog that I can record and download to my ipod as triggers. Porbably more than 25 pages!
{February 10, 2010}
excepts from Wasted, Part I
“I made a pact with a tall, thin girl who offered to help me lose weight. When I got to Interlochen, I was at something close to my ‘set point’, the technical term for your natural weight- mine is about 120. But 120 seemed too high, and I decided to drop that extraneous 20, down to 100 with the dancers and starving artists, and I’d been going around blathering about how I was on a diet. This girl came into my room at night, talked to me about what to eat, encouraged me in a most patronizing tone, and told me about how much better I was looking. And then, one night, I ‘slipped’. There were sundaes in the cafeteria that night. The girls had been talking about it all day – the future virtuosos of the world, the cream of the crop, la di da, had been discussing all day in hushed voices whether we’d break down and eat a sundae. couldn’t we just be strong and just eat the toppings, no ice cream? that would have less fat, wouldn’t it? what if we didn’t eat all day, and all the next day, then would it be okay? bless me father for i have sinned i ate an ice cream sundae. I went to the cafeteria, put together a sundae, and sat with the other girls. We laughed – for once we had enough sugar in our systems, for once we were eating regular food like any other teenage kid – until Ms. Diet Police came up from behind me, leaned over, took my sundae, walked to the trash can, and dropped it in.
“The furious little kid in me got good and pissed. I shoved my chair back and ran after my disappearing sundae. This girl turned around and I hit her. Whatthehell? she yelled, wide-eyed. Marya, I’m just trying to help you, you said you wanted help losing weight and here you are pigging out on ice cream! Near tears, I left, feeling like a compelte fool. What is my problem? I thought, heading back to my dorm. Am I such a cow that I can’t live without a fucking sundae? No self-control, none. Pig.
Sometimes you break down. The body and soul protest deprivation. We broke down from time to time, ordered pizza or subs, sat in the main room of the dorm in front of the television, eating. Sometimes I threw up, sometimes I didn’t. There was this weird, unspoken agreement: if we eat together, it’s okay, we’ve all got permission to eat. Those were good moments, when the part of us that wanted to be normal and healthy and loved food like anyone else broke through, and we sat giggling on the floor, munching away. Those moments became, for me, too few and far between. Marya, do you want to order a pizza? No thanks, I already ate. I’d disappear into my room to work. Sometimes I’d come out, sit with friends, eat the spare crust.
Of course I didn’t know then that I had all the obvious signs of an eating disorder: strange combinations of food, eating other people’s leftovers, skipping meals. Part of the reason I didn’t notice was because what I was doing was hardly unique. One day, late fall, standing in the main room after classes, a girl was eating a bag of microwave popcorn and offered me some. I took a handful without thinking and popped it in my mouth. Midchew, I asked to see the bag. I read the nutritional information and spit the popcorn into a trash can. She said, Marya, that’s like really weird. I said, it’s not weird, that popcorn is fucking full of fat. Another girl, sitting on the couch, concurred. I’d spit it out too, she said. The popcorn girl said, that’s bulimic. I said the hell it is! I ought to know, I used to be bulimic, and spitting out food it not it. She shrugged. Looks bulimic to me, she said.
“I distinctly did not want to be seen as a bulimic. I wanted to be an anoretic. I was on a mission to be another sort of person, a person whose passions were ascetic rather than hedonistic, who would Make It, whose drive and ambitions were focused and pure, whose body came second, always, to her mind and her “art”. I had no patience for my body. I wanted it to go away so that I could just be a pure mind, a walking brain, admired and acclaimed for my incredible self-control. Bulimia simply did not fit into my image of what I would become. Still, I was bulimic and had been for seven years. It is no easy addiction to overcome. But my focus had changed.”
page 106-107-top of 108
~
LATER ON, TAKE IT FROM THE TOP OF THE PAGE
“Early on in the year, I’d decided to lose 20 pounds. Most of us had, having heard those obnoxious warnings about the ‘freshman fifteen” that people say girls add when get to college. We figured the same would apply to us. It seemed to be a rite of passage beyond our control, fifteen pounds magically landing on the butt, an event that one needed to vigilantly guard against. In my dorm hallway lived several dancers, a violinist, a voice major, a harp major, Lora and I. I’d become friends early on with the voice and harp majors, who were roommates. We were in agreement that we all wanted to lose weight and swore on pain of death to help eachother do that, while insisting that the other two didn’t really need to lose weight. We talked about food and weight nonstop, about how much we wanted to lose, asked each other: Do I look like gained weight? Lost weight? Does my butt look big in this skirt, in these jeans, when I stand like this? Does my stomach stick out, do my thighs jiggle? The two of them had a little refrigerator in their room containing Chrystal Light, small tins of tuna (“It’s a great lunch,” one of them said to me. “There’s only sixty calories in it and you’re totally full.”), bags of trail mix, yogurt. We took the Saturday bus into town, to Meijer’s, one of those superstores, and bought bags of food in bulk: banana chips, sugar-free candies, raisins and popcorn and stood in the diet aids aisle, surveying the goods. Debating the merits of Dexatrim versus Fiberall. We’d wonder how long a person could go drinking just Chrystal Light.
You cannot trick your body. Your body, strange as it seems to we who are saturated with a doctrine of dualism, is actually attached to your brain. There is a very simple, inevitable thing that happens to a person who is dieting: When you are not eating enough, your thinking process changes. You begin to be obsessed with food. They’ve done study after study on this and we still believe if we cut back fat, sugar, calorie intake, we’ll drop weight just like that and everything will be the same, only thinner. Nothing tastes the same. You want to talk about food all the time. You want to discuss tastes: What does that taste like? you ask eachother as you devour your bizarre meals. Salty? Sweet? Are you full? You want to taste something all the time. You chew gum, you eat roll after roll of sugar-free Certs, you crunch Tic-Tacs (just one and a half calories each!). You want things to taste intense. All normal approach to food is lost _____________
pg 104 – 105
pg 113 : sugar freak
