effortlessly perfect











{July 20, 2012}   What I want

I sat down at my computer this morning, with so much to say. Thoughts, words, feelings. But as I begin to type, I’m finding it almost impossible to put in to words… especially into anything eloquent or profound. Maybe I shouldn’t care if any of it makes sense or comes across well to anyone. Maybe I shouldn’t care if all of the ramblings in my head turn out to seem like one thought when I start to write. I started this blog for myself and as a way to get my thoughts and feelings out, since I am so good at keeping them bottled inside. However, I get stuck on thinking about how my words will be perceived or what other people will think. I guess that may be something I just need to get over. Add it to the list. 🙂

So, here’s what I’m really feeling. I want to be thin. (I know that’s nothing shockingly new.) I want to stop eating. Lose weight. Be skinny. Be beautiful. Have a body that I’m proud of and want to show off. I’m tired of being fat. Feeling self-conscious about how I look. How my clothes fit. What size I’m wearing. What people are thinking about me.

I want to be called scrawny. To wear a size 2. I want guys to check out my ass when I walk by. Flirt with me. Smile at me. Regardless of the chaotic mess that is going on inside, I want my outside to be gorgeous. I want to walk in to any store and have everything fit. And if I don’t want to buy it, it’s because it’s not my style, not because it doesn’t fit right on my body. Or that I look fat in it.

I want to stop being afraid to eat in front of people. I hate ordering food because I’m worried about what people will think. A fat girl ordering something other than a salad. She doesn’t need anymore food for that huge body of hers. She needs to eat lettuce and grapefruit until she loses weight. Look at her fat, lazy ass ordering something with carbs or sugar. That’s how she got this way. Gross.

I want to look good even when I’m not trying to look good. Throw my hair in a ponytail, no makeup, yoga pants and a tank top. I want white teeth. Gorgeous hair. Beautiful skin. A hot ass and long, smooth legs. I don’t want to have to agonize over what I am wearing. How I am sitting. If I look fat to the people I’m sitting with. I want to be able to throw anything on and look great. Because I look skinny. And anything looks good on skinny.

I want to be so pretty and thin that I don’t cringe when guys make comments about other women or celebrities, because I am just as thin or hot as they are. I want to do something about how horrible I feel when I hear comments about other women. If it bothers me that much than I should do something about it. There is no reason I can’t be thin or hot. Other than that I’m lazy and won’t make it a priority.

Well, I’m tired of that. I’m tired of feeling disgusting. I’m tired of feeling like a whale. Or that guys like my personality, but only tolerate my body. There is no reason that I can’t be that girl that guys talk about. That turns heads when she walks in a room. I watch guys look women up and down as they walk by. Check out their ass. Make comments about how hot someone is. I want that to be me. There is no reason it can’t be. If I just make it happen. I need to make it happen.



{October 5, 2011}   dinner

the chaos from my head during dinner last night…

So, I’m sitting at dinner, hungry from not eating all day. Stomach growling, head pounding, shoulders aching. I want to eat. I need to eat. But I can’t. I won’t. Everyone else orders food. I order a diet coke. I can’t eat. I can’t hate myself tonight. I want to feel strong. I need to feel strong.

I pick up my cell phone and google thinspo. I know better. I know I shouldn’t. I know this isn’t good for me. But I need strength. A reminder that I shouldn’t eat. That I need to lose weight. That I need to be thinner, better, stronger.

My phone fills up with pictures of thin, beautiful women. Long legs, thin arms, flat stomachs. Legs, arms, and stomachs that I so desperately want. Looking at the pictures doesn’t make my hunger subside. But my determination to restrict gets stronger.

I can do this. I can get through this one night. I won’t hate the number on the scale tomorrow morning. I will have a reason to be proud of myself. I will be one small step closer to my goal. With one less reason to be mad at myself. One less thing I am screwing up. The battle is constant. But tonight, it is a battle I will win.



et cetera