Depressed

Ok, so it's 7am and I've been up since about 3. I got to sleep at about 10 last night then woke up needing the toilet. After a long struggle to get myself out of bed I sat on the toilet and broke the seat. It's still in one peice, it's just that one peice isn't attatched to the loo anymore. I felt my knees creak and hurt as I stood up from such a crouched position and headed back to bed. Before I even got into bed though I got dull hunger pains. I find them like needing to take a piss, I just can't get to sleep until I've done something about it. So I went to the fridge and stuck a 1.6kg macaroni cheese dish in the oven. That took about 45 minutes so in the meantime I ate 6 pork pies, 2 sausage rolls, a large cheese and bacon quiche and a can of coke, then it was ready.

I just want to point out that I was sat in the light of the oven, my bf at his house because he finds it difficult to sleep with me on hot nights (or at all, it seems).

I sat in bed and ate and ate. I felt my stomach swelling with every bite and about half way through the dish it started to taste yucky but I kept going. I know that cold or re-heated it tastes worse and I didn't want it to go to waste so I forced it all down. One dish is something like 3 times your daily recommended allowance of fat, and my stomach really didn't like it. My stomach said stop, my mouth said no and my fucked up brain said keep eating.

When I was finished I felt worse than when I started so I decided I needed something to soak up all the fat (that may sound weird, but it sometimes helps). There was a big victoria sponge in the fridge so I had half of that but just felt sick.

It was about 5.30 when I'd finished eating and I haven't gotten back to sleep.

I've been thinking about my life this whole time and how I've completely ruined it. I had everything anyone could want: a great home, loving parents who respected me, a loving boyfriend who'd do anything for me, great friends, a great job . . . Now I'm a recluse. I haven't been out in almost 2 weeks. That's not out at all, not even to the shop. I had 2 deliveries from the supermarket, some takeaways and pizzas but I've not even stepped out of the door. My bf is getting sick of my attitude and laziness though he still caters for it since it makes me happy when he shops for me. My mum is angry with me for still not going to weight watchers and letting myself get so huge in such a short time. There was a time when she was always congratulating me for doing so well, now it seems all I get is the truth. I quit my job (what the fuck was I thinking?!) because I can't stand or walk for very long without feeling bad and sweating like a pig. I haven't seen Amiee in ages or Sarah since about 2 weeks ago and I'm starting to go crazy.

In the last couple of hours I've not been able to move off the bed, I feel too sick and heavy to move and I've not only regretted eating all this food tonight but I've regretted every bite I've ever eaten in my life. I regret eating 10-20,000 calories a day for the last couple of years. I've thought back to how it all started, my mum practically force feeding me as a child, not being allowed to play outside and sitting indoors all day stuffing my face. Spending a whole school summer holiday one year cooking treats for myself and wondering why girls picked on me. Turning to food at times of stress.

After letting myself baloon to 24 stone a couple of years ago my mum put me on a horrible diet/exercise regime. I didn't have a job or my own place so I was under her control. When I slimmed down to almost 14 stone I felt, almost happy. I wasn't me, but I was what the world wanted me to be. I went out and didn't get tired and ate out and didn't leave feeling sick. I didn't walk down the street and feel like a freak. I shopped in the same stores as my friends (I actually fucking had friends). I wonder now as I sit here, practically disabled by my weight already, wether I'll ever really feel happy. I know now that despite the sexual thrill I get from seeing myself grow, that's all there is to it. I only feel like sex now because of what I'm doing to Henry, I don't find my body attractive anymore. It's just a blob, I'm not even a well shaped blob. My belly hangs over onto my waist and it's uncomfortable to let it hang out, and I feel funny wearing trousers over it. My arms are flabby and I have horrible rolls which get sweat in them. I have some sore spots on my lower back and under my arms because I can't reach them to clean them anymore. I can hardly fit into my shower let alone move around in it.

And what happens if I feed Henry to my size? He'll get as lazy as me, we'll probably find sex impossible and then what will we be to eachother? A couple of fat fucks, too big to get up and unable to move so we keep eachother company.

As futile as I think it is, I've stopped using condoms in the hope of getting pregnant. I told Henry my periods stopped because of my weight and diet, but it's not true. They're a little out of sync but I put that down to my lack of exercise.

It's about 7.30 now. I still feel ill. I'm probably going to spend the whole day indoors again feeling sorry for myself. I might get the exercise bike out but I doubt it. I'm laid on my side right now, my belly spilling about a metre onto the bed. I can't sit up and use the laptop, it won't rest on my belly.

Right now I just wish to god I could stop eating . . . but even with my stomach still getting over my unhealthy overindulgence, I can feel myself forcing myself up to make breakfast.

I'm going to eat all I want today, as much as I feel like change, nothing is going to change who I am inside so I won't fight it. I have a huge meal planned for Henry, and hopefully some sex will cheer me up. I've ordered some clothes that are due to turn up today, so if they do I may see if he wants to go out. I'll still feel like a freak, but I feel more of a freak staying in.

Well, I'm going to make breakfast. I'll write again when I feel like it.