I can’t stop thinking about food. It calls to me from the kitchen. Beckoning me to come and indulge in its fat filled goodness. But I know I can’t. If I eat I will ruin all of the progress that I have made. I can not afford to gain even an ounce back. Food is the enemy. Food is what stands between me and perfection.

Perfection. The thing that drives me to excises for hours on end. The thing that keeps me from reaching to that chocolate cake. The thing that forces me to stand I front of the toilet and stick my finger down my throat after I have eaten.


I am fat and it must be fixed


I am fat and it must be fixed


I am fat and it must be fixed


I am fat and it must be fixed
This is what I repeat to myself when I have bad thoughts about food. This is what I write over and over again in my thinspo book. In my book I have images of perfection, tips and trips, and the thin commandments.


If you aren’t thin, you aren’t attractive


Being thin is more important than being healthy


You must by clothes, cut your hair, take laxatives, anything you can do to make yourself look thinner.


Thou shall not eat without feeling guilty


Thou shall not eat fattening food without punishing afterwards


Thou shall count calories and restrict intake accordingly.


What the scale says is the most important thing


Losing weight is good, gaining weight is bad


You can never be to thin


Being thin and not eating are signs of true will power and success.

Anorexia isn’t a dieses but a lifestyle. Not everyone is chosen to live the ana lifestyle but those of us who are chosen to life this lifestyle are binded to it. It’s hard to break from it once you have felt its grips on your mind. You can not eat; you can not sleep, without thinking about weight loss. Without thinking about getting to that perfect weight. It requires discipline and focus. You can’t get to close to anyone. Living this life requires a lot of lying and will be very lonely. It’s better if you just stay by yourself.

I’ve almost made it. I’m eighty-one pounds. My goal is eighty pounds. I just need that last pound to come off, and then I will be perfect. I set the treadmill on the highest speed it will go. I have on two full sweat suits so I can sweat as much as possible. I stay on for a full hour. When I’m done I strip all of my clothes and pee before I step on the scale. I don’t need any extra ounces on the scale. I step on and hold my breath. I slowly look down at the number on the scale. Eighty pounds, I am perfect.

Everything goes black after that. The next time I am conscious I am lying in a hospital bed. I keep fading in and out. I hear crying. I hear the words “I should have done something” “Anorexic…heart attack…won’t make it.” I know that I am dying. I know that I will not make it past this day. But it’s all worth it. I will die perfect.


I have fixed the fat problem


I have fixed the fat problem


I have fixed …