Raise the Curtain

It's been a while, right?

I didn't want to come back, but I needed to. I'm so lost.

I don't really know what to say - a quick rundown? I'm... a weight that doesn't bear thinking about (although I've lost 10lbs in less than a week, just there; more on that later). I genuinely don't think I've ever been bigger. Even in the height of the purely binge-eating behaviour when I was... 10/11. I mean, I know I didn't hit 5'9" until like, age 14, but still. I seem to spend a week of eating literally nothing, or just drinking fanta zero and slim-a-soup, then a week of eating upwards of 10,000kcal a day minimum and purging about 50-60% of it, usually in three-hour-long b/p sessions (with two or three 'cycles' per session), and then a week of just straight up overeating. Although, I'm so fat that I can eat 3,000kcal a day and maintain, now. In fact, I ate 3,500-4000 a day for nearly six weeks and I only gained two pounds.

Rinse, repeat.

So it's really not a surprise that when my parents left and the anorexic-type behaviours kicked in - as they tend to do when my family aren't home (I even exercise) - that I lost 10lbs in about four days. Living off two litres of fanta zero (less than 50kcal - I can't STAND diet cola, only drink it if I must - somehow fanta zero lemon is 'safe' and orange is something I start panic-attacking over (yes that's a verb)) and two servings of 55kcal cup-a-soups will do that to you if you're a mountain a la moi.

And then, for the first time in a while, my shit turned to bottywater. Like actually, constant clenching. Excuse the vulgarity, but it's like having semen run out your ass if somebody cums up there. That's all I can liken it to. It's disgusting. As I'm sure a lot of you will know. So I ate an egg. Y'know. To solidify my shit. Literally. But then...

I ate another egg.
Repeat six times.
Then cereal.
Then I ordered chips.
Then pizza.
Then another pizza.
Then garlic wedges.
Six magnum ice-creams.
Strawberries which had been out of date for a week.
Quorn sausages.
Beans.
Beans.
Four more cans of beans.
Fucking beans.
I hate beans.
Why do I even eat beans.
More cereal.
Milk is finished, so-
Cheerios with orange juice. It's as disgusting as it sounds.
Sugar. Straight from bowl.
Salt. Handfuls of it.
Salt and sugar mixed together. It's actually good.
Seriously. All that shit fits in my stomach now.

Involuntary vomit.
Voluntary vomit, but only a little.
Pass out.
Wake up in severe pain; can't purge.

For some reason I didn't touch the chocolate or crisps, honestly don't actually know why. Note to parents: don't leave a bulimic (I'm still not technically a run-of-the-mill bulimic, that's the hilarious thing) £200 to feed herself for two weeks. GONE IN A NIGHT.

Miraculously, by the by... although the above bingefest is extreme, even for me, that sort of thing does happen with alarming regularity. I don't remember ever resorting to eating meat. I might be a fat bulimic but I'm a fat bulimic with principles, goddamnit!

All the while this has been happening, I've been scouring the internet for pictures of ever-thinner women, girls, men and boys. I've had full-blown panic attacks immediately on waking, upon remembering the previous days' feasts, just to re-enact the bitter drama in the next few hours. I've been by turns jubilant, suicidal, terrified, elated, crushingly anxious, cripplingly paranoid and for a few precious moments entirely void, all at the hands of this disease I'm so fucking in love with.

In other news: I turned eighteen (yay!), I cut a lot (bah) - on my arms (boo!), I'm single (meh), I still smoke a lot (okay?), I own an exercise bike (yay!) - from the seventies (wat.) and I dyed my hair a stupid colour (turquoise) and it looks good (honestly) but I'm going to dye it back ginger (aww) because it's too expensive (ooh. Fair beans then. (WhydoIkeeptalkingaboutbeansIfuckinghateBEANS))

Dying my hair has actually been good for me. It's lead me to discover a slice of an identity which isn't entirely wrapped up in an eating disorder. I'm not a blue person; I'm red. Very, very red.

Game of Thrones is pretty great.

Tumblr is my new obsession, but it's linked to The Real Life so you can't have it. Not that many people will care, of course. If any of you are still here.

...hello?

I don't have time to catch up on what's been happening over the last few months, so if there are any seriously significant things which I absolutely must know to make sense of you and/or anything you have to say, please tell me and I'll go and stalk you. Otherwise I'll try to pick up from where I left off, seven months ago (to the day). I've been dropping in and reading tidbits but aye.

K xxx

This is one of the most horrendously difficult decisions I've ever had to make, but I think it's inevitable, and a long time in the making. Too long, and I've let myself (and you) down by not making it sooner. It's not hard to figure out exactly what said decision is - I have to say goodbye.

Fuck, I'm crying. Thought I might, wasn't sure. Every single person I've ever even had the slightest brush of contact with on here means the world to me. You've helped me through all sorts of shit and there are many who I'll never forget... too scared to name names in case I (ironically) forget somebody - seems like something I'd do, right? =P

I've taken care of the practical things - deleted all my posts (having saved some of the most important ones (and all the comments! I've screencapped everything)) and changed my profile. Can't bear to delete the blog completely, though - and certainly not without warning, just in case anybody would be silly enough to worry about me =P

I don't know what I'm going to do next. I'm still very much eating-disordered (binge eating at the minute, although I had a serious purging session earlier today for the first time in a while) and I don't know if I want to do the "recovery" thing, but I do know that I don't feel like this is the place for me to be anymore. I'll probably still pop on and read your blogs, see what you've been up to (how could I possibly not?) but the chances of me blogging again are, currently, very slim - as are the chances of commenting, seeing as I'm making a conscious decision to try and distance myself from the "pro ana" blogger... "scene", for lack of a less ridiculously inept word.

That being said, because I don't know what I'll do next, at some point, possibly... I might come back? I don't know. But I'm leaving the possibility open for myself. I don't expect anybody to hang around for me but be warned - if I do ever feel the need to start Bite Me up again, I'll come looking for you =P My stalking skillz are 1337. Ish.

If anybody wants to keep in contact - and please, do! - I'll check the comments on this post for a while and I'll still check bitemebabyx@yahoo.co.uk regularly, just in case. Send me your email address or facebook and I'll add you on MSN or, indeed, facebook (something I've avoided so far) because I don't want to hide any more. If you're unsure, I've turned on comment moderation, so if you don't want to email me I can drop you a line instead. Of course, only if you want to, because I know there are a few people I've never really spoken to beyond a brief hello, and some even less than that.

I have so many regrets about this. I regret not commenting more, I regret not getting to know you, I regret not being more honest (I never lied, though...) and I desperately, desperately regret having to leave. I will never, ever regret meeting any of you, though. I'm not sure whether it's because of or in spite of loving you people so much, but that's why I'm leaving my wee contact details behind, at least...

I guess it's a bit inappropriate to say "goodbye", so... au revoir. <3