Thinspo Post 2- Abbey Lee Kershaw

   I love this woman. She is a very famous fashion model, and has lost a bit of weight herself, which makes her the perfect (th)inspiration. Her style has a very updated 90s punk aspect to it, which I adore, and her look is very ethereal and pretty, but still badass. She is Australian, and, thus, has the cutest accent ever. She has tattoos and piercings, the coolest of which is an inner lip tattoo, which says, if I remember properly, "truth". She is the main reason I want to model, and think I have even the slightest chance. I was just spitting out facts there, so this is probably a bit disjointed. Enjoy!

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4 I love this picture. Flat stomach, loose clothing, and water in hand.

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15 Abbey before her weight loss.

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   It has been a while since I've written. I am feeling wonderful compared to how I did last time I posted. However, it was Thanksgiving yesterday here in America, which means that poor eating is running rampant. I feel quite nauseous when I think of the horrors that have passed my lips recently.
   It was also my first Thanksgiving as a vegetarian. My mother bought me some kind of frozen meat substitute that wasn't too bad, but, let's just say I won't be running to eat the leftovers.
   My feelings of depression have, for the most part, subsided. I do wish to self harm sometimes, but I've been telling myself "no" and I'm going to keep doing so.
   As far as eating goes, I am starting the Atkins diet on Monday. I will be hard, as it's protein based and I don't eat meat, but I think I can do it. I just have to eat up all of my fruit, yogurt, and fresh peanut butter in these next three days. Thank god the first phase is only two weeks long, because fruit is yummy and healthy. . . it just has carbs.
   I am hoping that this will be the last diet I'm ever on. I'm so close to my goal weight. I've been trying to lose this last fifteen pounds since June.

Comment replies:
Ethereal Yeah, doesn't she look like a blonde, tan version of Emma Watson?
Emma  Thank you so much for your kind words. It's good to know that someone cares.
Anafly  Thanks for the support. It's just hard to accept that it's possible to have a problem when the medical definition disagrees. 
bottomfeeder I know exactly what you mean! I don't want my skinnier friends to see me eat. I don't want to give them the satisfaction.

I try to pull myself out, but the earth engulfs me.

   So, today, my best friend told me something very interesting about one of his friends. She's anorexic. I was expected to display signs of pity, which I did admirably, but I was so incredibly jealous when he said that she hadn't eaten for two days. I know I shouldn't have been.
   I was envious of her at first, but I grew more and more disappointed with myself. I had actually been thinking of telling him, but now I can't because her thighs don't touch. She has a real eating disorder. I don't.

   I'm sorry, I will talk more when I have time.
 
   Love,
   Emeline

Thinspo Post 1

Just a few pictures I find inspiring.

Experiments of the sick kind.

   My mother hasn't taken me to the doctor. She is under the impression that I need ginseng to fix my concentration problems. I don't want to tell her what I think may be wrong with me. I feel that admitting to depression is a sign of weakness. I must have been weak for this to happen to me. Weak minded silly little girl. I know exactly why all of this started. It sickens me. I am a weak, spineless little girl with daddy issues, who's heart breaking once was all it took to crack her. I am completely over that heartbreak, but the problems are still there. I hate myself.
   These are such white girl problems. I have no right to feel this way; people on the other side of the earth are starving to death, and here I am, whining about feeling sad. What do I have to feel sad about with food on my plate and education within my reach?

   I apologize for my lack of eloquence in this post. I feel that I normally sound far more put-together.

   I was feeling so stressed and anxious today. I'm sorry I did it, but I self-harmed, and I feel like my experiences with that aren't even real because I've always been too afraid to cut. I snap a rubber band on my wrist, I scratch myself with a paper clip, and I drip hot wax  on myself. Anything painful without blood.

   I don't know what to do with myself. I can't study anymore, and, if I'm not a good student, I have nothing. The most important thing about me is my intelligence. I am supposed to have a genius level IQ. Why is this happening to me? 

   See how pretentious I am? I had to tell you how smart I was, because I feel like if I didn't, nothing I say would be valid. I am an ass. 

   I'm sorry. Sorry that I even started this blog. It was probably just me wanting to show off to you, because I am a pretentious ass.

   I'm sorry. Just so sorry.

   Emeline

An apple a day. . .

   Unfortunately, my mother decided that my hobbling around the house was a reason to take me to the doctor. In the waiting room, I was trying to read my book, and I just couldn't concentrate. I didn't think it would matter much to tell my mother about my frustration that I could no longer enjoy books, but she now believes that I'm anemic or have low thyroid.
   We were called in, and the nurse weighed me. I am ashamed that I ever thought I was underweight. The scale at the doctor's office says that I am six pounds heavier than I thought I was. It was a very upsetting moment that was only made worse when the nurse pointed out that I have lost ten percent of my body weight in the last fifteen months (only ten?). My mother started on a tirade about how I need to take better care of myself, and then ignored me entirely to have a discussion with the nurse about this injection for weight loss in very overweight people (the nurse and my mother) and how they want to try it.
   I was then shoved off to a room with my mother talking about how skinny I am (yeah, okay, Mom) and we waited for the doctor. They took an x-ray of my foot and determined that I fractured two of my metatarsals, but that it wasn't very serious (would anyone like to tell me how broken bones aren't serious?), and, if it still hurt, to come back tomorrow. My doctor also told me to take Tylenol for my broken teeth until I can see a dentist (I have two. I tell my mother my poor dental health is due to my sleeping with my mouth open, which may be related, but I think it's more due to the fact that I get very poor nutrition most of the time.).
   Thankfully, my mother forgot to mention my concentration issues, but we're going back today, because my foot is still painful (obviously, it's fucking broken), and I don't think she'll forget again.
   I was on Web MD, and I think it's more likely that I'm depressed than that I'm anemic or have low thyroid. I can understand why she would think that, as I am a vegetarian on the anemic side, or that she herself has low thyroid, and she thinks it's genetic. I don't think I'm anemic because I take vitamins, and people with low thyroid tend to be larger.
   What happens if I get diagnosed as depressed? I suppose I'll get the help I need, but I don't know if I want the help. I want my concentration back, and I want to feel better in general, but I don't want anyone to know that I was weak enough to develop a mental disorder, least of all my wonderful mother, who will think it is her fault. Worst of all, I don't want anyone to talk to me about my feelings. I don't like to do that.
   What if my doctor figures out that I have an eating disorder? I can't imagine getting diagnosed as EDNOS. It will be very shameful to not have a specified disease, and even worse that I will be made to stop. Thinking about this is making me cry. What if I never get to my goal weight?
   I feel powerless. What do I do?

   Wishing better fortune will find you,
   Emeline

My home is my sanctuary.

   Thank you for all of the lovely people who have followed me. I don't think my life is very interesting, but, if you wish to read, thank you for taking the time to do so.
   I find myself spending endless hours in bed, thinking I should do something other than searching the corners of the internet for something to do. I have a project for my Literature class, due three days ago, I have to read a hundred pages in Hard Times also by three days ago. I have to do a painting by yesterday, and another by two weeks ago. I can't make myself do anything. Call me lazy, if you wish, but I think it's more than that. I feel sad, though nothing has caused me grief. I don't want to move, and all I can do is eat all day and watch movies. I wanted to reform my eating today, but it ended in a binge, like always. I hate that I do this to myself. If I could  just make myself do my work, my problems would go away.
   I feel weird when I leave my house. Like someone is going to verbally attack me for being such an unworthy person. When I do leave, I am only met with stress do to the consequences of being, forgive my rudeness, a lazy asshole. Teachers berate me and my friends do the same. It is less stress to live indoors. But, I know that I can't do that, especially as the attendance office at my school now has me in their dropout prevention program.
   I wish I felt like I did when I was a lowly freshman. I may have been hideous, but I was a flawless student.
   I don't know what to do.

   Love always,
   Emeline

P.S.
   P cancelled our plans to hang out. She said she would explain later, but she hasn't. I'm going to have to accept the fact that she doesn't want to be our friend anymore. People do change, and, when you don't have a lot in common, there's not much you can do to have fun together. I noticed on Friday that I am completely comfortable dressing in front of R and V, and even my best friend (a guy), D, but I couldn't do so in front of P.
   I guess she has moved on to the bigger and better world of weed and beer every weekend, talking to people below her intelligence, and sex all the time (although I've heard good things about this last one). I think she deserves intelligent conversation, not, "Dude, remember that time we got totally wasted?!".
   Before you peg me as a hypocrite, as my last post was about drinking, know that that was the exception, not the rule. P does stuff like that every Friday and Saturday night, without fail.
   I suppose I'm being selfish. It's her life and she should do with it what she wants.