every end has a start

I decided about a week ago to start some sort of record of my - well, what can I really call it? My doctor would probably call it my undoing or something much more dramatic, but that seems far too negative. These past three years of active and physical 'undoing' have actually been pretty positive in some ways. In some ways these past three years have also seen quite manical periods of insanity, but at least it has given a focus and central point to my madness and it is certainly the case that not all of these periods were driven by what I will call my inconsistent penchant for starvation and weight control.

My highest weight was 136lbs. As I am 167cm, that made my BMI 22.1. It was hardly obesity but it still felt incredibly gross. My constant mantra back then was "when I get to 119lbs, I will...". So two years ago I finally pulled together the focus and control and for two weeks I ate 500 calories and ran twice a day and by the end of it, to my amazement, I found my scales reading 121lbs. I upped and downed for a while and then last year things got a bit more serious. I had played around with laxatives before, but around Christmas 2008 I was eating so little and taking so many of them that I was either fainting or lying vertically whilst clutching my stomach in agony most of the time. At this point I was still hovering around the 121lb mark (anyone who has had experience with any form of bulimia will tell you it's a rubbish way to lose weight). I had a little rest for a while and then drowned myself in calorie limiting and controlled bulimia at around Easter 2009. And then, one night after Easter, something out-of-this-world-life-changing happened. Even now I'm not completely sure whether it was as terrible as it felt. I've developed a skill in dancing around the subject and that's exactly what I'm going to do here. On this night, under the guise of far too much alcohol and feign-sleeping, someone took the control away from me in my own room and in my own bed. I guess that wasn't particularly subtle! The following day I found I was 118lb - my lowest weight yet and 1lb below my target. It felt, ironically, fantastic. At this point I was blaming myself for The Incident. Sometimes today I still do. As far as I was concerned, he had done nothing wrong and my reactions (which included a long series of panic attacks and other lovely things) indicated only my own weaknesses. The following week I booked an appointment to see a counsellor about these weaknesses I saw in myself. I was convinced she would tell me that I was indeed over-reacting, but within 5 minutes of sitting down she had used the r word, informed me I had a severe eating disorder (to which I was oblivious to) and had me in floods of tears. I'm not exactly the crying sort!! She persuaded me to book a doctors appointment that day, which I did, and the doctor sat with me for quite a scary and extraordinary-for-the-NHS hour. He gave me a super-urgent referral to the Eating Disorder Service and a series of annoying blood tests. He also amazingly rounded my weight up and my height down, despite the fact I told him I measured both - as well as my hips, thighs, waist and bust measurements and BMI - daily to the decimal! I used this period to slip to as low a weight as I could. I got to 112.4lb and then stopped weighing myself. That summer I made a conscious effort to stop being so obsessive. I knew it was unhealthy and that it had to stop. This was going pretty well until December when I decided to give my old habit another go again. I was really enjoying the tight feeling in my belly and watching the numbers shrink daily and by New Years Eve I was 110lbs and had a wonderful BMI of 17.9. It was amazing! I ran around in my bra and knickers without feeling like a giant elephant and it was just so very comfortable. It felt right and exactly how I should be. And then, on New Years Day, I decided I was invincible. I had about 3000 calories in total. I decided I am one of those people who can eat exactly what I want but still stay thin. This has been an on/off practuce for the last 3 months but I have finally decided NO MORE. I'm going to start feeling the way my belly contracts in when I don't eat for a few hours, and the way I feel as light as a balloon, as though anyone could pick me up as though I was nothing but a feather again. The being carried around part has always been a weird kind of focus for me.

But enough about history for now. Onwards and upwards, etc. The aim is 105lb (BMI 17.1). I will be happy there, where my thighs arch outwards to create an oval of air inbetween and fat doesn't spill out like the tops of muffins no matter how tight my clothes are. I remember when 119lb seemed so impossible and 105 does, but not nearly in the same way. I've had my final binge. I've had my last an-instant-2lbs free-for-all on crisps and cake. Tomorrow I will pull out all the big guns with an intense work-out and 1000 calorie day and begin the weighing and recording again on Tuesday. By the end of Easter I will be where I need to be and I intend to stay that way. This is going to be an amazing journey; I can just feel it!

Current: 118.6lb - BMI 19.3. 13.6lb to go!