as you can see from the picture, I’m bathed in black and blue. This, unfortunately, occurred from a very drunken night out clubbing. Where I had taken my anger and frustration and all other emotions out on cocktails and vodka lemonades and the dreaded Jäger-bombs.
I had been so focused on not wanting to eat that day and night (so that I could feel lovely in my dress) that I hadn’t even considered the alcohol calories.
Needless to say, arriving home at 4.30am and spending the whole of my Saturday feeling pretty shit, I couldn’t believe how swollen and bloated my tummy had become. I looked so fat and disgusting.
one-by-one I have been watching the bruises on my legs grow and spread. I don’t actually care that I have them. I’ve been very obsessed, recently, with punishing myself for doing the things I don’t want to allow my body to have (i.e. food) and saw the state of my legs as a way of saying ‘serves you right, silly girl‘ and I haven’t cut since the last post on cutting, although have had a few urges.
I feel quite safe knowing that because my weight is a little more lower now, I’m just bruising like a peach. Now, to anyone else that’s just a plain stupid thing to say, but to me.. almost feels as though I’m doing a grand job of keeping my body weight low!!
I feel like such a fucked-up 20 year old sometimes, but hating myself is the only thing I know how to do right at the moment.