My sister came and stayed with me on campus for 5 days courtesy of traumatic family drama, so I’ve been treating her. She left yesterday, and I was so afraid of stealing on the scale this morning. Somehow I only gained two pounds after binging every day with her. Im floored. I’m baffled. I’m perplexed. I’m not questioning it.

Going right back to my usual restriction.

My bisexual boyfriend and I in our straight passing relationship

twitter: currently owned by techbro pissman

tumblr: actively removing functionality and bloating the interface with things nobody uses

discord: being retooled by ex-Meta management who don't understand the appeal of the platform

youtube: neutered by advertisers and algorithms and also tiktokification

reddit: half of the site is down due to protests about the outrageous monetization of third-party API support

facebook: my mom is on there

Fuck, this guy was evil

Forget all that discourse about whether or not it's okay to laugh at billionnaires dying- the other four people in the submersible were practically goddamn martyrs who died so that Rush's dreams of deep sea oil extraction would die with him

I've been finding a lot of inspiration from new musicians I've discovered and through art on pinterest. Surely I'm not the only one, but some of the best thinspo for me isn't straight thinspo. It's sketches and drawings, and songs about identity crises and depression and shit. Okay, so for example, nearly all of Will Wood's music, Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium album, Lent by Autoheart, My Ugly by Cloudfodder, I'm Gonna Win by Rob Cantor, and Different Anymore by Amigo the Devil. The vast majority of these songs aren't about ed, but they are fucking phenomenal thinspo for me.

It's been a hot second, but here's an update! I hit another GW! I've now lost over forty pounds. When I hit fifty lbs lost I might consider posting my numbers, but as it stands I'm still too mortified.

Not eating works. Restricting works. And It's been so long, I've actually gotten used to it. I can actually function despite having a fairly physical job. Things are going well. My mental health has even gotten better (Well, the depression and anxiety, not the ed lmao). I think as long as I'm hurting in some way, I'm able to go steady. It's when I try to be totally fine and okay that everything starts to unravel at once. Committing to an ed frees me from, say, being tempted to hit my legs or isolate myself entirely and fall to depression and loneliness. I don't know. I have to work on the theory, a lot has happened and other things might be making me feel happier. But I truly thing having a steady ED helps level everything else out in my head. We're already hurting ourselves by starving, we don't have to go so hard on other things type of deal. Or something.

Sometimes i visit the food in my house, look at everything and make sure it's organized and I know what is and isnt there. the food in the cupboard and fridge is food in a tv show, it's a set piece. It looks normal to the audience. But it's not for eating it's there to look good

I don’t want pretty Instagram model thinspo and I don’t want innocent pure coquette thinspo I want mentally ill, androgynous, sickly, isolated thinspo.

won't stop until i look like this.

🩹Ftm/nb specific sweetspo🩹

Don't you love it? The way your features slowly fade away? Sure, there might be some remnants of curves left, but get them a little smaller- just eat a little bit less- and they'll fully disappear in any baggy shirt or oversized sweater. You'll look scrawny and rugged, with skeletal hands and prominent bones.

Do you think a more slim throat will make your Adam's apple stand out more? Do you think being more slender will make you seem taller?

Imagine how good tattoos would look on your paper pale skin. Imagine how sharp the angles on your face would get. Imagine the stacked rings on your bony fingers... imagine the look in their eyes when they finally see you, the way you were always meant to be seen.

All of that could be yours.

All of that for a little while longer, a little bit less

being bored and hungry is actually so glamorous if you think about it

I know the whole point of body dysmorphia is that you don’t realize what you actually look like, but I swear to god I don’t have dysmorphia. Not like that. I really do need to drop the weight. Like, fucking medically. I’m not gonna to lie and say I don’t have any dysmorphia either though. The way I think I look and my perception of my body and face changes wildly through the day, any one detail noticed can flip the script for better or worse instantly. But I am objectively fat. And I will undo it.

So despite yesterday’s fuckup, I did manage to hit my mini goal this morning. I made a deal with myself that when that happened I could eat an actual meal. So I had breakfast. I counted the calories when I was done and it was 900 calories. Absolutely sick to my stomach over that. And it wasn’t even worth it. I still feel tired. I still want to rest. I still don’t want to get up or move or socialize. Maybe even less so on that last part. So let this be a lesson, honestly. It doesn’t make a difference, so just keep pushing through.

Managed to lose 7 pounds in 4 days and as of this morning I’m 1 pound away from the next mini-goal. I was an idiot and had to eat a McChicken today with a friend. I’d offered to buy breakfast for a coworker because I got payed last night and then my friend who was with me got food too, so it would have looked very suspicious if I only got my black coffee. Plus he’s noticed I’m dropping weight fast, and he knows I’m not eating much, just not the extend. I added cheese to the sandwich too. I tried not to stall too much in eating it so it wouldn’t look as bad. Yes it was delicious. Yes I fucking regret it. But I don’t really regret offering to buy food for my coworker. She works hard and I like looking out for her. But I should be under 600 cal for the day, so that’s good. I’ll go back to <300 cal tomorrow. Thank god my job requires a hell of a lot of walking. Damage control.

won't stop until i look like this.