Va Bene

I'm currently on vacation... the computer is centrally located in the middle of the living room. I haven't forgotten about this blog/commenting on ya'll blogs. It has just become a little bit impossible at the moment.

They've stepped out for about 15 mintues.

I've been doing well since last post. I have decided to restrict to 800 calories a day. It's only been like 10 days, but I'm already sick of the fast fast binge fast binge binge fast fast... restricting worked for me before, and hopefully I'm not yo-yo'd enough for it to not work again.

I need my stomach flat for the beach. Everything else I can deal with, but a bloated stomach is just not acceptable.

I'm really sorry I can't read anyone's blogs. I feel like a deserter.

Hopefully you are all being strong..persevere. You know it'll be worth it when you don't have to avoid looking in the mirror because your afraid of what the damage will be.

Chiara

debole

Bad news to report, I'm sorry. Probably a very boring post.

Sunday (two days ago), I was doing fine. Hadn't eaten all day. My mother told me that she was, quote unquote 'proud' of me for eating 'healthy'. Then, my father, who is alot more perseptive then my mother, gave me a talk about my (non) eating habits. I told him I wasn't feeling very well. He told that I shouldn't worry about what my mother wants, and that I should be happy with who I am. Mostly, I just lied alot. I thought my eating was forgotten or at least forgiven.

Supper happened. I ate a salad. My father decided he was making cookies, which is unusual for him. The smelt sooo good. After so long of not eating anything with sugar it was hard to resist... but I did for a little while. Then, my father gave me one. I thought, one little cookie isn't going to fuck this up. Bad choice. If there is one thing I know about myself, it's that if I have one bite, I can't stop.

6 cookies later:

I'm sitting in my room, thinking about how it's only the start of making this 'change' and I've already ruined it. I tell myself that I need to fix this. Somehow. I think of mia, even though I've never been able to do it. I knew that if I did, I'd be sinking to a new low. I make my way into the bathroom. I figure that if people all over the world can do it, so can I.

15 minutes later I emerge with a red face, sore throat, and both pleased and disgusted with my self. I somehow managed to get rid of some of the awful awful cookies, but mia is just to revolting for me to ever want to experience again.

So, that would have been fine, and recoverable, except the next day (monday) I ate. And kept eating. I know that it was above 'normal' but below a complete binge day. There is no reason, or excuse.. I just woke up and couldn't stop.

I guess it happens to most of us at some point.

So, finally today. Tuesday. Weighed myself this morning to see what the damage was, still 110. Haven't gained, haven't lost. Haven't aten yet.

I watched the teen choice awards last night with my mother. It was very inspiring, and is currently helping me restrict today. All the beautiful young celebrities, in their gorgeous dresses with thin legs sticking out the bottom. Glamourous, and endlessly thin thin thin. I wish I was there, sitting on the red couches, smiling and flipping my perfectly curled hair. One of the crowd of smiling, flawless faces. Presenting an award maybe, or recieving one. Feeling the eyes of thousands of viewers on me, and enjoying it.

Watching it with my mother kind of ruined it though. For example, when Miley Cyrus was preforming Party in the USA in her short shorts and skanky bra-showing outfit, my mother goes "She has fat legs doesnt she? Don't you think?'. Miley Cyrus is many things, but she isn't fat. She may not be stick thin, but she definatley didn't have fat legs. 'No,' I said. And for the rest of the song my mother just keeps yapping about her 'fat' legs.

The entire time she was doing this, I was thinking about myself. My legs. The arn't any skinnier then Miley Cyrus's legs. They're probably the same size. Is that what my mother is thinking when she see's me in shorts? Is that what other people are thinking? If I was in that outfit at the teen choice awards instead of Miley Cyrus, would I look skinnier? Fatter? Would people who don't know me, and actually weigh MORE then me being calling me fat?

Like who gives you the fucking rights to tell people they have 'fat' legs. As you sit there on your coach weighing more then them, looking uglier, and doing alot less with your life.

I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be sticking up for Miley Cyrus.

Anyway, wish me luck today and all the days in the future. Thanks a lot for all of your comments...:)

Stay strong... you know that you'll regret it later tonight if you don't.

Chiara.

One scenary, two different bodies. Both of these have happened to me in some form or another. For me, it was the difference between 97lbs a year ago, and 112 lbs 6 months ago. Fiction.



The sun is shining, and the scent of brine and seaweed fills your nostrils. 'Come on,' you say, turning around to smile at him. You've been working hard all summer for moments like this. Your bikini is underneath, and you confidently pull off your tank top. You know that if you looked down, your stomach would be flat and taunt between you hips bones. You wiggle out of your shorts. You know that you thighs are thin and toned, not touching. You let him stare at you; reveling in the success and endorphins that come with confidence. Kicking off your flip-flops, you run through the hot sand until the water laps at your feet. Turning around again, you see that he's still staring at you. Good. 'Coming or what,' you laugh. You leave him there, and run as far as you can until the water provides a viscous barricade. The saltry wind whips your hair out behind you, and the sun shines on you, just on you. You no longer care what he's doing, because this moment is about you. The sun beats down on you, and you smile. You've never felt so free.

Or

The sun is shining, and the scent of brine and seaweed fills your nostrils. You barely notice, because a disaster is coming. 'Come on,' he says, smiling at you. He whips off his shirt, and you stare. No, it's not a tsunami. The disaster is much worse then that- swimming.
'I don't like to swim,' you lie. He's waiting for you. There really is no choice. You wait until his back is turned and whip off your clothes as fast as you can, running through the hot sand to the safety of the water. But, it is ill timed. He turns around. You keep running, concious of you bloated stomach, your thighs, your arms, everything that you hate. 'The sand was hot,' you say, as you kneel into the water as soon as possible. You don't look at him, but hope he didn't he isn't wondering why he's with a fatass like the mirror told you this morning. The wind rustles your hair, and the sun beats down on you, but you don't really notice. All you can think about it is the fatness concealed, for the moment, under the water.
You really shouldn't have binged all those times. You knew that this moment would happen. Even the last minute fast didn't help. And now it is too late.

Let me tell you that the first one is MUCH more preferable. As you may have guessed. I write things like this alot, not about being thin. just short paragraphs like this to improve my english writing skills. My speech is fine, but writing english is so damn confusing, even after all this time. These (above) paragraphs help me create pictures in my mind and make me remember why I'm sitting here drinking diet coke and little else all day.

Chiara.

Ps, in italian CH is said like a K. I's are all said like the 'ee' in cheese. KEE-AWR-A. If only I got a quarter for all the times people have called me 'she-air-a'

nevrotico, neurotic

The second day, has so far been going bene.

Went outside, ignored my hunger. Did my 40 minutes of excercises. I've been doing my excercises for about a month now, and I can feel the difference. 50 sit ups doesnt burn like it used to. Neither does 50 calf raises. As much as it makes me happy, it also makes me annoyed... now, I need to do more to get the same happy burn. And I get bored easily.

At supper, I ate anoter small salad w shrimp and half a glass of millk. Under 200 cals. About an hour afterwards, I saw the noodles that I had purposely avoided throughout supper sitting on the table. You've already had calories today, whats another 100 gonna do? I have a bite. And another. Then, the secondary part of mind realises the disaster in making, and throws three quarters of it in a container in the trash. (so people don't see I threw it away.) I then added vinegar to the container. To make sure I wouldn't pick it out of the trash and eat it??? Who does that? And then, I took one more bite, and threw the rest of the noodles into the vinegar-filled garbage container. Disaster avoided.

I'm so neurotic. My english still isn't the best so I hope I spelt that right. Nuerotic.

I was doing back hand springs in the grass today ( I used to do rythmic gymnastics in italy) and it hurt my wrists. Perhaps if I was lighter I could tumble and tumble like it is nothing. Thin and strong and flexible, a wisp. Gymnastics is so graceful. It's about mastering your body. Isn't that what we all want? To be the master of our body.

By the way, besides my family, society, italian culture, california culture, acting/modelling, I also blame rymthmic gymnastics for my disordered eating.
If you aren't thin, you are nothing. Coaches are assholes.


thanks to anyone following and/or commenting. it means lots.
buona notte...goodnight.

Yesterday

Went well. I woke up full of willpower. I crazily? made a list of everything I wanted to do that day.
Do excercises
Make bed
Go to library
etc.

It seemed a little crazy, but it meant that I always had something I was supposed to be doing, even if i didn't get through all of it. I did everything I meant to be doing. I did the 40 minutes of strength.

I also find that I'll wander weirdly into the kitchen. I'll go up the stairs, look around and say, hmm, I wonder what is in the kitchen. I can't eat it. But...I need to go check to make SURE I wont eat it.. .
It doesn't make sense, but then I open all the cuboards, the fridge the coutertops. Just seeing whats in them. Sometimes I'll find a cookie that but sibling made, and almost pick it up. But stop myself...

Anyway, yesterday I managed to consume only one small salad with 20 cals of dressing and healthy healthy fish. WIth half a glass of necessary calium filled milk. And, because I had a moment of weakness, one home-made peanut butter cookie. Luckily, I manaded to stop myself from eating more.. Good enough for the first day.

Weighed myself for the first time in awhile. 110. Ew.

The clouds are gray again. Rain slips into the streets like tears. Your tears. How good it would be to dance in the rain, slender and light. To put on a short spring dress and spin in circles like a child, until the wet fabric clung to your flat flat stomach and hip bones. And you laughed at how free you were, and how all the work you've put in are finally here. You smile and look through the front window of the house, at your old life. You vow never to be like that again and flounce away on your stick thin limbs. Except that, your the one in the window, not the one dancing in the rain. And you have work to do.

So far I haven't eaten a thing. Wish me luck.

Forte,

Chiara.

To the Present

I tried to diet all the way through that summer. I lost maybe a pound or two, but I wasn't going all out. I weighed in at about 108 pound, at 5'5". Not fat by any stretch of the imagination.

Grade 10 came, and I was the new girl in California. It was really scary walking into those doors, knowing that there was no one, no one, that new my name. In the first week I made a couple of friends, but most of the girls already new each other.

My mother, who was still unrelentingly dragging me to auditions, was STILL telling me that I needed to drop pounds. She said that since I was already too short (like it was my fault), that I needed to make up for it by being skinny.

One day I snapped. I had gone to the beach that day, our house is near the water; only about a ten minute walk. I was unhappy with my body, and, after all, I had already lost weight before. So what was so hard about now?

I ate 800-1000 calories a day. For about 4 months, excerised around half an hour a day. But, it worked. I was europhic everytime I looked at the scale and saw the numbers drop.

By that time, I had a reasonable friend group. They weren't the 'popular' ones, but rather the ones just outside that circle. I didn't like these friends though. They all started getting into drugs, which I wasnt interested in. They convinced me to do E once, but thank god I haven't done any drugs since. The majority of the girls talked about having sex all the time. Another time I was invited to one of their parties and I got so drunk that I puked... and I hated the lack of control. I was always the one who always thought of consequences and maturity and a bit of sophistication that these girls and guys didn't bring. California high school was supposed to have a bit of glamour and fashion and it wasn't what I dreamed of.

I tried to start making other friends. It wasn't because they more 'popular', even though they were, it was because they were clean, nicer, had a sense of morality. And yes, they were more fashionable (which I liked, coming from Italy), and a bit of glamour. Their 'group' wasn't the bleach blonde bitches that would've been featured on Laguna Beach or something like it, but some of them were friends with them.

I felt like I was in a movie and was that stupid girl who purposely plotted to be friends with certain people. I didn't like it, but I didn't know what else to do. I was the new girl, and instead of being brown-blonde, blue eyed and tanned, I was very italian looking. Black hair and hazel eyes and olive skinned. I tried to work that to my advantage.

I was starting to scare myseld weight wise. It was christmas, 4 months in, and I weighed 97 pounds. I thought I was getting too thin. I was already happy with my body...what more could I want. My mother was super happy with me too, and I started getting parts in short films and such.

The problem was, the only two types of eating I was good at was either binging, or restricting. I couldn't eat normally. I was too scared to restrict any more, and during christmas time... I binged. Pretty much the entire time. When I got back from christmas I was only up 3 lbs, but I couldn't stop.

I ate on the upside of normal until the end of the year. 112 pounds. was my highest.

The only good things that happened that year were that I did start to make friends with the girls that I wanted. Tentetively. I would sit with them in all my classes... but then be too afraid to sit with them at lunch. Then, at the end of the year I got my big break. I was invited to a party of theirs. And, I believe I did well. One of the girls there was drunk and was like 'I want to be friends, i hope you sit with us next year...'

Very encouraging. The only problem is that it is half way through summer and I haven't heard from any of them.

So, next year, grade 11. Is going to be MY year. The year I make it all happen. Boys, friends, california, skinny, acting, career. I'm going to figure it all out. I'm sick of being the pretty italian new girl in the corner.

But more then that, this blog is about my weight issues. I've taken it up to the present. I've aten normally for the past month, and I want ana back. I weigh 110lbs, 5'5". (No, I haven't grown despite my mothers best attempts.)

I start today.

Junior High

The first time I lost any amount of weight, I was only in grade eight. Wow, it ryhmes. It was the year I moved from Italy to Canada. I wanted to start again, and make a new image for myself.

I thought that I didn't fit well enough into my size zero capris. So, I ate exactly 1000 calories a day, for about two months. Dropped down to 99 lbs. I was happy. That was the first year that I started making 'cool' friends. I was surprised that people liked me. I felt that I didn't belong. I didn't wear makeup, or style my hair nice or wear pretty clothing. I think to them I was more of a challenge. They would tell me how to dress, and cut my hair, and beg me to let them give me a make over.

But, through out all of that they told me that I was pretty and that they wish they could be as thin as me. And so, I eventually began to love myself, and stopped dieting.

For a while.

Grade nine passed, I made the social transfer from my old un-popular friends, to 'cooler' ones. I still remember the first time that I got the nerve to sit at their lunch table instead of mine. I remember feeling bad about ditching my old friends, but it had been some time before I could talk with them and not be embarrassed. It was like they had not grown up and still acted like 'kids'. They were all very nice people, but I wanted more.

Grade nine ended, and summer. I moved to California. This was when I was quote unquote 'discovered'. I was at the mall with one of my sisters, and a scout stopped me and asked if I wanted to be a model. He talked to my mom, and my mother (a former model) was rediculously encouraging about this. I wasn't tall enough, but he said to give it a shot anyway.

My mother became insane. I had always said that I wanted to be a doctor, and she had always told me how much work it would be. My dad was the one who encouraged me. Now, she tryed her best to make her daughter follow in her footsteps. She drove me to every call, made me go to acting auditions, payed for manicures and pedi cures and hair highlights and teeth whitening and everything that I didn't really care about.

But worst of all she told me to lose weight. That I was too fat.