Struggling.

I'm going to be honest, I promised myself I wouldn't post today.

Mostly because, whenever I'm attempting to fast, and I post how well I've been doing, I go off and ruin it with a night/day/whatever of bingeing.

I woke up at 165.8 this morning. Good. Not good enough. I need to lose as much as possible before February.


Dear Ana,
On February 3, 2010, I will not pay heed to your voice whispering in my ear, telling me I'm a fat cow. On February 3, 2010, I will eat my grilled cheese and potato chips or waffle of some sort, along with a big fucking slice of ice cream cake. I will try not to think about the pounds I will gain, the work I had done so far.
I will not allow you to control me on the one day of the year that is all about me. Every other day can be about you. I know that later, you will make me cry, make me fast, make me jump for joy when the number on the scale goes down, make me slump in despair when it goes up.
But I'm taking that one day for myself. Chloe will not be there. Nor will Mia. None of you are invited to my birthday party. Sorry.

Love, Charlie