Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Deep Shit

I’m sure an infinitesimally small percentage of the world’s population has been kept up nights pressing the Refresh button on its browser while anxiously pondering the question: Where is Rose?

Well may your Refresh buttons rest in peace, for I am breaking my silence to bring you answers and questions and question-like answers to questions! Where has Rose been? Getting herself in deep shit, that is where Rose has been.

Yes, unfortunately, I am now officially swimming in Bad Waters—turbulent, unpredictable waters with little islands of steaming Shit that suck you into a black abyss of existential despair for days, only to spit you out with a self-satisfied *thock*, back into the raging current of BAD.

I have been waiting to post until I have wrapped my head around at least something, because I generally like to post articulate, well-thought-through comments on a semi-coherent topic. Har. But, unfortunately, my thoughts, life and actions just seem to get continually more jumbled until I literally feel like ripping my skin off.

I will spare you the long-form update of Life’s Proceedings—I went here, ate this, thought this, ablardiblahblah. Instead, allow me to describe the last few weeks as Data Collection. And the data I have been collecting has been about myself, namely about how I will actually act when given complete freedom.

Data Point #1: When left to my own resources, I will eat 300-800 calories a day and lose weight consistently.

Data Point #2: When I reach the absolute minimum weight that my school’s administration will even think about readmitting my ass, I go below it.

Data Point #3: When I agree that 1,000 calories is probably not going to make me explode, and that, yes, I can make that my minimum intake so my weight doesn’t dive off the charts, I go below it.

Data Point #4: When I picture myself gaining 3 pounds and maintaining that (which I must do to see the light of Amherst College), meaning eating more and not being so sneaky all the time, it makes me practically cry in terror.

In conclusion, I DO NOT know how to maintain my weight.

And I know that most people reading this are not actually attempting to maintain their weight, and when they hear about me complaining about my inability to stop losing weight, they roll their eyes with great aplomb and write me off as a Whining Whiner that doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

However, allow me to appeal to our collective ED voices and say that, the land of ED looks different for each person. And my personal fairy-tale land has me running around my beautiful college, with my beautiful friends, sharing a loving relationship with my boyfriend, succeeding in all I undertake, and BEING GODDAMN SKINNY. Pretty picture, eh?

So when I am put in a situation that is almost identical to that of my fairy-tale land, and I collect Data Points 1-4, well, I am left fucking disheartened. Maybe I can’t do this, I have been lying to myself this whole time, my fairy-tale land is unobtainable because I, Rose, am too fucking committed to my anorexia. No no no, hands over ears, la la la I can’t hear you that can’t fucking be true I can fucking do this I will I must god fucking damnit!!

So that, my lovelies, is where Rose has been. Not much fun, no, not much fun at all. But on the bright side, I am now 115 pounds and I fit into the Rose is Officially Skinny Jeans!! (Ironic, that fact is also the one that is throwing me into such fucking confusion. Silly me.) But yay! And I have been having some fun times on the side, so all is not chili cheese hot dogs and deep fried twinkies (aka HORROR). Needless to say, you beauties always make me feel better, and I hope I can sometimes do the same! *mwah*