Hello Life, I Seem To Have Found You Again.

I'm actually doing pretty okay (: Weigh in at 136lbs, so I'm almost at my first mini goal to get down to 123lbs, and I have my day planned out entirely! It goes music, music whilst revising, buy laxatives from the pharmacy, tidy my room a smidge, play with my guinea pigs and start my photography portfolio. Eating doesn't really come into it today (: Maybe I'll just rely on fruit!

I'm extremely excited to tell you all that I'm seeing Aerosmith on the 15th at o2! Yes, THE Aerosmith! Standing seats ofc and I hope I don't get mauled about by the moshers. Any of you by any chance going to any gigs anytime soon? I'm also hoping to go to see the prodigy at Milton Keynes Bowl next June. 

I've kind of decided that I AM going to get back into my music, because it's something that makes me happy. So tralalalalala I win. This year and next will most definately be gig-filled. I reckon as many of us as possible should go to download next year actually. FUNTIMES.

I love you all lots (:

Hazel.

Mmh.

Firstly: Ariana m'dear, it's still not fixed!

Okay, well I'm kinda swinging between 136lbs and 137lbs. Though I've been asked by quite a few if I've lost weight. I really haven't though. I'm the same and the same and the same and the same. I detest it with a passion.

Had a massive argument with the boyfriend yesterday. It's my fault y'see, because I always make him angry. The other week he had a fight with another boy and nearly got suspended because of me - I hate doing this to him. The thing is, yesterday we had a really bad argument again because I can't keep my mouth shut. He ended up punching through a glass window, and it hurt his hand a lot. I just hate the fact that I keep hurting him like this. After having cheated on him, to all of this... I just don't deserve him at all really.

Earth Calling Ariana!

I'm fed up of crying. I decided to be ill today, so that I didn't have to go to college. I can't really face all of the fucking pregnancy rumours, especially knowing that once upon a time I was.

Crying every night is becoming tiredsome, really.

And Ariana: I really want to give you your first comment, but you haven't enabled commenting! Please sort it?

136lbs this morning, which means I’m starting to lose again. I’ll make my goal of 135lbs by the end of this week. I’ve settled back into my routine again, it’s funny what laxatives before bed can do. I took 3 laxies last night, woke up and pooped. Didn’t eat this morning; I had a 280 calorie chocolate bar at lunch time, a 500 calorie milkshake at 3pm, and my dinner was 125 calories of baked beans. Total of 905 calories today and it’s a good start. 

I’m going to do as many conditioning as I can tonight – I’ve decided that for every 5 calories I eat I have to do one conditioning. So that’s 181 conditioning. Piece of cake.

I was thinking about numbers today, and I realised why 123lbs is my first major goal. I really like the number – think about it; the numbers are consecutive and also identical to their position. The third number is the product of the first and second. The first number is literally the reverse of the third and second – three minus two is one. Just everything about the number is comforting, and once I’m there I’m happy. 

Mmh. My mum’s having an operation tomorrow. It doesn’t worry me, because it’s only a routine op. What has worried me though, and put me in a pissy mood, is that people have been spreading rumours about me supposedly being pregnant. But I can handle that, I just have to find the bitch that did it (: 

I went to the doctors on Monday, yup. The fucking doctor told me that she can’t even examine the lump because I’m not 18. Whatever – I told her to appeal it to the head of surgery, or else I’ll just ignore it and let it get bigger (AS IT ALREADY FUCKING HAS BEEN!) until I turn 18. I find out the result of the mini appeal on Saturday.

Wish me luck.

I think the worst part about everything is that I still hate myself for the miscarriage. I had an honest conversation with my boyfriend, and he admitted whilst he was happy that I'm not pregnant, he's upset that his baby died. It was a baby; maybe a boy, maybe a girl. And maybe if I hadn't still been taking the pill, and still been abusing laxatives. Just maybe.

There's a lot of maybes around. Just not a baby. Cause I screwed that one up didn't I? Even if it wasn't on purpose.

Blahh (8)

I'm doing the baby food diet thing, and starting back on DRUGS. Lol.

What weight loss pills d'you guys recommend and where can I get them from?

Lovelove.

New Layout (:

I seem to be sticking at around about 137lbs, and this is fine for now. If I can lose a minimum of a lb a week during exams, I'll be content. That won't stop me trying to lose more though.

I'm trying to figure out my life at the moment. Right now, I'm drawing blanks.

Snowball Effect, Much?

Lol I swear everything just seems to be getting worse? I'm 5"9 and a half now, but 137lbs. So my bmi is a disgusting 19.7. Fucking exams.

Also I've been ignoring a lump in my cervix for about a year now, and now it hurts a lot. Doctors appointment on Monday.

I'm getting ill all the fucking time.

I'm giving up smoking. At this moment in time, it's probably that which concerns me the most. It's been two days cold turkey, and I really want one. Eurghh.

I'll update more later (:

Hazel.

Alive.

Yesterday wasn't one of my best days. Rain managed to stop me from taking all 15 of my sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka - I got as fat as 2 pills and half of the bottle. 

At least someone was there for me.

Yet I still don't think I want to wake up. I used to be the one who believed in the "one day at a time" philosophy, but really the hardest part of each day is having to wake up. I don't like waking up, because its having to face a new day. And I'm only going to have to do it over and over again.

Surprise Surpise (:

I never went to see Prince, I just couldn't. Even the thought of it just sent shivers down my spine and made me want to scream. Y'see, when I went to the funeral it was open casket - I saw his face and it wasn't his. That's part of the way in which I remember him. I remember him lying in the coffin, and I don't want to remember him like that, imagining him under the ground. Not being able to get up. Not being able to get out. Screaming. Life in death.

I can't go. I just can't.

Tralalalalala. On a more painful note (like that's possible), please NEVER take four times the stated dose for laxatives, especially when you've been taking twice the recommened amount for longer than the recommended period of time. Last night I crawled from my bed to the toilet, and passed out about 3 times along the way. I passed out just before getting to the toilet, and I passed out on the toilet. I had stabbing pains along my diaphragm and I couldn't breathe.

I went to my mum. Crawled down the stairs somehow and told her I couldn't breathe, that something was wrong. She told me it was cause of the shite I've been eating, and my stomach was rejecting it. My stomach was rejecting something alright, still is. She gave me two ibuprofen and told me to get into bed - though at 2am there's not much more she would have done really.

I had a fat ass argument with the boyfriend yesterday, shortly after we'd had the best sex ever. Strange xD. We're alright now, though my mum's been being a right gay ass since yesterday over till today. I got so stressed out that I ended up smoking in my room - fucking dangerous. I was sat in bed, light on, window open, smoking. The smell's only just gone lol. Mum never caught me, but still. I'm surprised I got that stressed that I'd take that risk!

I haven't weighed myself, and I'll be waiting as long as possible. Though even now my scales are shouting for me.

My scales talk to me they do (:

Hazel.

Today I am fat. I’ve been craving biscuits a stupid amount the last few days, and I’ve just been giving into temptation. But I haven’t put on a silly amount of weight, because I’m 134lbs, and taking three times the recommended dose of laxatives pretty much daily.

So today I fix the damage, because I’m supposed to be 132lbs by now. Today I’m on ABC, and here’s how it’s going to be: I can do any day quota I like. E.g. If it’s supposed to be a 500 day, but I eat 800 calories, I remove the 800 calorie day and replace it with a fast. D’you get what I mean?

I’m fat and hairy, tralalala. 

Yesterday I watched Prince’s memorial video over and over again and I cried. Today is 6 months since he passed away, and I’m finally going to see him. I’ve got my sister’s oyster card, and time off from college. But I’m still afraid. I’m so afraid, that sometimes if I think about it too hard, I close my eyes so tightly that everything goes white. I’m so afraid that I’ve been biting my lip every time I think about it, and I think it’s going to start bleeding soon.

I feel like a little girl again, and I’m not so sure I like it. I remember wishing over and over again, even recently, that I could be young again – because everything was so much easier. But it wasn’t was it? Because even though the innocence swamps you, the tide of helplessness drowns you. It doesn’t matter what happens, or how you feel about it, because you can’t do anything about it. 

When I was nine years old, I used to pull my hair out in massive clumps to make it feel better. Clumps as big as my fingers today. I’d end up with massive bald patches. I told everyone it was because I had an allergic reaction to head lice shampoo that my mum put in my hair, and everyone believed me. All the teachers, all the parents, and all the doctors. Even the doctors at the hospital believed me, even when there was no evidence to suggest I was allergic to anything, they still believed me. Maybe they just didn’t want to think about a nine year old girl pulling her hair out.

I pulled my hair out up until I was around 13 years old. I’m not sure what stopped me, but something did. Maybe I was just tired of having to have my hair up in a ponytail all the time, or combing my hair over to the side so that I could hide it. I soon found out that if I scratched myself hard enough, I could feel the same pain that I did when I pulled my hair out – but scratching with my hands ended up becoming broken metal hangers, and blood everywhere, and excuses about guinea pigs needing their nails trimmed.

I’m still a little girl. I still make mistakes, and I still wish every night that maybe (just maybe) things will change soon. That tomorrow morning, I’ll either wake up happy or not wake up at all. But now I’m just a little girl in a big girl’s body, and I’m not allowed to make mistakes anymore. I’m not allowed to feel upset or do silly things, because I’m a big girl now. And I hate it.

Rest in peace Prince, and I’m sorry you got lumped with me as a friend. You didn’t know everything before, but you do now. I wonder if things would have been different if you knew.

Hazel.