Wednesday, November 30, 2011



My lowest weight ever, by far.
I'm not entirely certain how to feel.
Yesterday was my birthday- I twiddled my hours away, flitting from store to store, trying on item of clothing after item of clothing...
and always, always pleased.
Nothing pinched, nothing pulled.
Everything cascaded, and caressed, in ways I'd only ever dreamed of; or drooled after on thinspo blogs.
Everything looked great- and if it didn't, it was because the shirt was too baggy, or the jeans too loose.
A very heady feeling...
I do quite believe I could get lost in it.

I'm not quite where I want to be yet, but god damn it I'm close.
Closer than I've ever been.
Ninety two is the magic number.
Because, you see, I don't want to be average.
I don't even want to be on the lower end of normal.
I'll say what I've said a million times over, I want thin.
I want the prestige...
Because lovelies, it's true what they say.
Thin is a skill; a practice you must hone with each passing day, until it is second nature to you.
You must breathe thin, like it needs you.

This is what I want.


The boyfriend gave me presents yesterday- I was ecstatic.
Four pairs of jeans, and a pair of shorts plus two tops; all from Hollister.
I about died.
At first I eyed the articles of clothing with trepidation, remembering all too well the days after days spent in dressing rooms with my mother- near tears because nothing would fit me, and the mirror displayed all too well the disgusting fat rolls all over my body.
Suffice to say, those incidences have left me just a little jaded in regards to the whole "clothes" agenda.
I stare at the blue denim fabric, ogling each curve- and lack thereof.
Slowly, my heart beating, I grab the jeans- the little tag reads 24.
Quick mental math.
Size zero.
I'm holding a size zero from Hollister.
At this point, I'm sort of freaking out; anticipating the conversation where I tell my boyfriend, "Oh hey, thanks for the gifts and all, but you see, there's this little thing where I'm too fat for all the clothes you got me..." Each second my sense of dread increases.
Until I decide, fuck it.
Two minutes later, I'm staring into the mirror in disbelief.
They fit perfectly.
Each leg went in without a moment's hesitation, and the button felt like it belonged right around my waist; in fact, a little loose.
I could get lost in this.

People at school are noticing- two of my teachers remarked that I was "too skinny".
However, at four foot eleven, I hardly find this is the case; it's most likely a mixture of my very strong Polish genes (my mother's full blooded, I'm first generation off the boat) lending me a very angular face. And hey, I'm okay with this.
What's the point of being thin when no one can tell?
My biggest problem areas are my stomach and thighs, but slowly, day by day I can feel my thighs getting smaller and smaller.
I know I'm not genetically predisposed to a thigh gap, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to have the closest thing to it.

Another small victory today:
I'm officially in the 18 BMI range. Eighteen point nine, to be exact.
Which is freaking crazy.
I took my measurements two days ago- perhaps I'll post them later

Just four pounds to go... That's all I have.
Then begins my "Reintroduction Phase" (should be tons of fun).
I chose ninety two, because I feel like that's where I'll see the most difference.
I want to be glamorously thin.

I haven't been updating my intake lately, for a number of reasons.
One, I've been very low spirits- very tired, very sad.
I don't know if sad is the right word.
And also, other than that, I probably would find the energy to at least blog what I ate;
but you see, the thing is I haven't.
At least, not for the past eleven days.
And I really couldn't give a fuck.

1 comment:

  1. Gooo you, your blog inspires me so much. Congrats on your weight loss, your almost there