Bulemia @ MindSay

Yes, read the title. It helps with explaining this entry. For I am about to make a confession...though I don't really think it's a confession. I'm so confused about it, and it's starting to scare me. And this is the only place that I can think of to go. Strange, huh? I find it easier to confess to a group of people that I've never met than it is for me to confess anything to most of my friends. I can do things online so easily...I'm anti-social, I know. I never go out...well, hardly ever. Basically because there are very few parties (I've only started attending them since this year anyway) and my school friends...well, they never go out. And if they do, I don't get invited. I doubt some of them are really my friends at all...

 

Anyway, one with my 'confession'.

 

I'm your average teenage girl - I go to school, hate it, hate my brothers (yes, OK, you'll say deep down inside I love them), love my mum (I'm Aussie, so it's not mom), hate my father (no love whatsoever, so don't get me started), have a job that I love, have heaps of friends (or so it seems) and I love my conputer.

 

But I also have...some problems, I believe, though nothing confirmed.

 

I hardly every drink - my lips are always chapped and cracked. Always meaning that it hardly even hurts anymore. I've been trying to fix that by making myself drink heaps of water every day. I'm most likely deficient in vitamin D because I'm always inside. That's why I'm so pale. But that I don't really care about. It's my eating habits that are starting to scare me.

 

I know all about anorexia nervosa and bulemia. Don't ask me why, but they've always held me interested. It's weird. But these days...I feel like they're sort of becoming a part of my life. I don't like to eat. I eat because I know I have to. But I like feeling hungry. It's odd. I look down at myself and I swear I think there's fat there. Not like obesity fat, or even overweight fat, just fat - and it annoys me. I want it gone. But it doesn't cross my mind to exercise, or eat well. I just think to not eat as much, despite the fact that I don't eat all that much anyway. So I can't help thinking, "Hey, I'm kinda fat here..." and it's annoying me. But I know that a sign of anorexia or bulemia is the bloated stomach, because of the lack of nutrients. It even happens to those poor kids in third world countries.

 

So at the same time as I'm thinking I'm fat, I'm thinking I might be anorexic. Not to the extreme, but I'm scared it might get there. But I have enough brains to know what's going on, and to stop it from happening. But is mind over matter enough? Or am I going to go into a downward spiral?

 

I'm contemplating posting pictures here right now...I'm thinking I might, despite how embarrassing this is. First some facts might help.

 

I'm seventeen. Approximately 5'2" or 5'3". I have no idea how much I weight because we don't own a scale and I haven't weight myself in about three years. ...yeah, that's all you relly need to know. Let's see if I can get these pictures on here.

 

Front 1: http://i59.photobucket.com/albums/g301/Paranoia_Productions/1.jpg

Front 2: http://i59.photobucket.com/albums/g301/Paranoia_Productions/2.jpg

Side: http://i59.photobucket.com/albums/g301/Paranoia_Productions/3.jpg

 

Someone got advice? Or at least let me know if I have a problem here.  

xoxo

Look closer into my envious eyes

Feelings of agony will emerge

Everyone's been telling me all these lies

And so starts my habbit of binge & purge

 

You can never trust them

They wouldn't understand

Claiming that you are a valuable gem

But there's just too many problems you have on hand

 

Let's start with the cuts

They're simply too real

They make them cringe in their guts

But to you they're not that big a deal

 

Where we are is a creul place

The world only wants to see you suffer

Abuse can't put a good expresson on your face

But don't worry cuz it only gets rougher

 

When those you love get ripped to shreds

And you're left standing there alone

The ignorant lovers will end up dead

In the night when the moonlight shone

 

i can never escape this hell

How long i'll be here time will tell

Until that day comes, i have to fake

And then my life someone will take

2003

 
2004 

May 2005

June 2005

 

  

 

Dear Lindsay Lohan,

 

Hello. My name is Dutchess of Wales and no, I'm not really a fan of yours. While yes, I enjoyed the remake of Parent Trap years ago (even though I still prefer the original), I do not think I have ever seen another movie with you in it, and therefore, I cannot claim whether or not you have talent.

 

Talent or no talent aside, I am here to write you a letter to beg you to recant your recent statement to Teen People magazine that the interview with you in latest issue of Vanity Fair, of which you are on the cover (see right), is a pack of lies.

 

In the interview you admit to your battle with bulemia. You told interviewer Evgenia Peretz that when you were especially skinny, Tina Fey and Lorne Michaels "sat me down, literally before I was going to do [Saturday Night Live], and they said, 'You need to take care of yourself. We care about you too much, and we've seen too many people do this, and you're talented,' and I just started bawling. I knew I had a problem and I couldn't admit it.… I saw that S.N.L. after I did it. My arms were disgusting. I had no arms." You admitted that you were making yourself sick. And when Peretz specifically asked youwhether making yourrself sick meant throwing up, the answer was yes.

 

I was so happy to hear that you were finally telling the truth. After all the interviews where you denied your eating disorder's existence, after all the times you went back and forth, from one interview to the next, stating that you were "simply eating less," but then claiming that you never watched what you ate. That you did work out and then that you hated working out and never did it. After all the confusing, conflicting answers you gave when someone asked you about your sudden and quick weight loss... I was so glad to see that you were finally letting go of the control your eating disorder was having over you. Sooo glad that you could finally stand up and serve as a role model to many girls out there who has problems just as you do, showing them that these types of diseases are fightable and can be conquered. That bulemia or anorexia will not control you forever.

 

But then you had to go and recant it all. You had to email Teen People and say, "The words that I gave to the writer for Vanity Fair were misused and misconstrued, and I'm appalled with the way it was done."

And you had to accuse the Vanity Fair reporter of "lies and changing of my words." Then you had to get your publicist, Leslie Sloane Zelnik, as well, to tell Teen People that you never battled bulimia.

 

You had to go ahead, once again, and tell the young girls of our country that looking the way you look is ok. No, not just ok, but desirable!

 

Maybe you aren't lying. Maybe Vanity Fair made it all up. Maybe reporter Evgenia Peretz, a well respected and one of Vanity Fair's "most reliable reporters" according to the magazine, made it all up and risked her reputation and career just to make you look bad. Maybe Lorne Michaels really didn't sit you down and tell you that you needed to stop (Although, I haven't heard him come out and dispute the statement). Maybe Vanity Fair's claim that they have the entire interview on tape is a big ol' lie.

 

Maybe, maybe, maybe... But I doubt it.

 

Dear, dear Lindsay. I hope to God you get help and don't waste away into nothingness like so many other girls have done. I also hope to God that you will one day be able to stand up and help other young girls get through bulemia.

 

Take care,

Dutchess of Wales

 

 

 

 

I have a fourteen year old cousin named Amanda, and she is brilliant. She's funny, outgoing, witty, and an all around beautiful person.

She stands at 5'4 and weight around 180lbs.

And she cries every night because of that.

She is so disgusted with herself that, at fourteen, she has become bulemic.

So sometimes, I cry with her.

I can't understand it.  Our differences make us human.

She's fourteen. She's bulemic. She's beautiful. She breaks my heart.

She hates herself, because people tell her she should.

But it's not just her.

It's everyone.

Even me.

So next time you decide to ridicule someone, think of my little cousin.

Think about how, if she had been loved instead of hurt, maybe she wouldn't have such a terrible disorder.

And, please, think about the fact that a kind word instead of a cruel one really does make all the difference.