I hate Marcia Brady. Not the character, but the person who played her, Maureen McCormack (McCormick?). I was watching access hollywood and they were doing like a lose weight special type thing and Maureen was on. She said she'd gained a lot of weight and she weighed in at 155. I mean she's kind of short so she doesn't look all that good. But then the show followed her for four months and video taped her stepping on scales, weighing in, blah blah blah. I was happy and didn't care until, UNTIL she steps on a particular scale: mine. My model at least. My shitty, inaccurate, will-give-me-five-different-weights-in-a-minute scale. My crappy taylor digital. And you know what it told her? While she was IN CLOTHES? 130. One hundred and thirty fucking pounds in clothes! I nearly dropped to the floor in envy. I mean, she still had twelve pounds to go until her goal weight but damn, it was like being stabbed in the heart seeing MY goal number on MY brand of scale for her body. I wanted to cry. She went from 155 to 130 in four months, all while stuffing her face (with healthy food) all day. I didn't lose 25 pounds in four months. Hell, I struggled to get 20 off between august and december (this is before the holiday gaining and I have no idea what damage that was), and some days I don't even eat. So now I hate Marcia Brady.
Also, interesting, she said in her youth she used to binge/purge. Fantastic.
you know what else gets on my nerves? People who claim they had and eating disorder and are "all better now" and warning others about the dangers and are still stick thin. It's like really? Is it all that bad? You're skinny and you're alive and you're maintaining. Please show me a con somewhere. (Sorry for those of you who still struggle with self esteem issues and other mental effects, but I highly doubt the people I am referring to are like you guys).
END of RANT
I attempted ABC today. FAIL. I mean not epic but still a wash. I had like 1000 cals instead of 500. I did work out though so maybe I leveled around 700. I feel so lost. I can't track my weight and I look in the mirror and see no difference. My parents tell me I look better, but I can't believe them, they're my parents, they're supposed to say I look good. Some days I don't even want to face food. I want to be a coward and hide away with some books and pretend food is not an issue, that I don't need it. I wish I could live in a gym. Then I would be happy. I read my "ana horoscope" not too long ago and it said I should try to hate food. I thought to myself, that's silly, I love food, I don't like what it does but I love it. How can I ever hate it? But I see it now. I hate food. I hate the way it lures me in, even if it's not crappy and it's healthy, the numbers are always spinning in my head. Every calorie going up up and away. I hate the food, the way I need it, I hate what it stands for: having a good time, celebration, sadness, apathy. It has all bases covered. Food has made it so it represents life, and it seems like you can't have a feeling without it. Nothing shines quite as bright and things lose their sparkle. God, I sound like a recovering addict. But food is a drug, and we're all habitual users. Food is like the worst boyfriend ever. Betraying me every time I turn around. Enticing with tasty food and not telling you it'll pop up on the scale the next morning. With food, there are only three choices: be imprisoned with it, or be imprisoned without it. The thrid choice is a wild card: pretend to be houdini and spend your life breaking in and out of each prison to the point where you are balanced. Sorry to get so strange but I feel lost. So very lost. I need my scale now! I have to wait until I buy my college books though. Maybe I'll catch a break and they won't cost $500 to the tune of $50 to spare. That would make me happy. If not, I have to wait until the end of the month to get one and spend my entire allowance on it and beg my parents for the ten dollars short I'll be. Damn damn damn damn damn. Let me get a break, please I need one so badly.