There are remains, the corpse of a fudge brownie cake on my livingroom coffee table.
Mocking my past sins. I haven't been online for quite a while, and the tables have completely turned (but the brownie is still there...)
I'm back now. Hello Ana, my old friend, and hello YOU, my motivation and inspiration in the strive for a perfect body.
I'll lay it out for you: This June, I was this close to my ultimate goal weight, at least for round 1.
Now I've moved out of my parents' house, I've gotten everything I could ever wish for (in terms of non-body-stuff).
I was 50,7, ergo 0,7 kilos away. Silly girl. This morning I was 57,1 and it's time to fast again. I've been binging and purging (alas, without fingers) just about every day for so long now.
I'm living with the only person I ever fell in love with, and hey, he loves me back. This is partially why I haven't been able to fast and so on, along with the fact that I've been so demotivated.
But now I don't care anymore, this is for me. I want to stop feeling like he's out of my league, that he deserves someone thinner and prettier.
The first morning fasting, and I have a long way to go. This would be easier if I hadn't had such a physically demanding job like before, but to heck with it. I want to be.... 45.
Can we fix this? Yes, we can.
Breaking a mirror is 7 years of bad luck, and I want to resist the urge.
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