It sucks while you blow chunks.
And what is really, really sad? I don't particularly feel the need to stop. I know I'm slowly killing myself. Purging puts so much strain on the body. My stomach can stretch so much to hold the food in I'm constantly scared it's going to rupture. I abuse laxatives, diuretics, and it's only because I'm so fucking poor that I don't buy enemas or ipecac. I also abuse diet pills (ephedra, etc), I stack. I take the long way while walking. I always carry a heavy bag, even when I don't need the majority of the stuff in it because it burns more calories. I keep myself awake longer to burn more calories.
My hair is lifeless. My skin is terrible. My gums bleed very easily. The roots of my teeth are becoming exposed. My throat always hurts. I get ridiculously excited when I take a shit what doesn't require laxatives. I get constipated so easily.
Why am I saying all of this? I feel the need to be honest. Sometimes people (on blogger and in real life) seem to think that purging is an easy way to loose weight. It takes over so fast. My body has a very hard time digesting food, as it's not used to it. Sometimes I feel like a fake because, let's face it, I haven't lost any real weight since I started this blog. I can't stick to a fast. I can't stick to a diet plan. As my NEED to binge is out of control.
I have an eating disorder. I don't want to stop. I would love if I could give up bulimia, but only if I could be anorexic. That's the only way I could stop this. I'm not actively trying to stop it anymore. There is no point. I have plans to up my exercise to burn off the calories I can't get out while purging. Sad, ain't it?
I'm really a pathetic person. Who will probably die of this disease. I've accepted that. Maybe one day in the distant future I'll change my mind. Who knows. For now, I blog.