Addicted in Hollywood: Scary Lengths Stars Go to Stay Scary Skinny - FoxNews.com

Addicted in Hollywood: Scary Lengths Stars Go to Stay Scary Skinny - FoxNews.com

Dangerous dieting is as old as Hollywood.

And it can be deadly.

Singer Karen Carpenter died at 32 of complications from anorexia nervosa, specifically "cardiotoxicity" brought on by the chemical emetine, found in the now banned over-the-counter drug, ipecac.

Glamazon Anna Nicole-Smith, who had gone through years of yo-yo dieting, was on a host of prescription medications, including two that could be used for weight loss, when she died of an accidental overdose at the age of 39.

Screen legend Judy Garland was hounded by film executives who told her she was too fat. The actress turned to pounding pound-shedding amphetamines over the course of her lifetime. She died at age 47 of a barbiturate overdose.

Now experts say destructive dieting only getting worse.

Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/2011/07/08/addicted-in-hollywood-scary-lengths-stars-to-to-stay-super-skinny/#ixzz1T5vvjlqz

fucking tabloids and the thin Circus Ridiculous

Who can remember the 1970s? D, if you're out there and you happen to read this, I know you do. ;) "Everyone" was thin when I was growing up. Thin was the cultural norm. Seeing bones was the cultural norm. Not because people were unhealthy, but because that's how the body looks.

No one ever commented that Debbie Harry was too thin.

Or that Annie Lennox had gone mad with anorexia nervosa.

Or that Cheryl Tiegs should get help with her weight issue.

BECAUSE IT'S NOT AN ISSUE TO BE THIN. IT'S NOT AN ISSUE IF YOUR BONES ARE VISIBLE. THEY FREAKING SHOULD BE IF YOU'RE HEALTHY.

Nearly every magazine in the grocery store check out isle has headlines about so and so's weight. Bloody hell. I'm too tired to rant.

this says everything

anorexia won't fix your problems

The title of today's post sums something up. I don't know what. This is what some bitch said to me as she passed me on the sidewalk today. In a clear voice she said, "Anorexia won't fix your problems." I wanted to say, 'It would fix some of yours, fatass!' But I said nothing.

Firstly, she doesn't know me. Secondly, I'm not even thin right now. Maybe. Maybe! If I were six pounds lighter, then it could be a legitimate accusation. At 90 pounds, I start to look thin. Even if I were thin, what makes her think it's acceptable to say that to someone. It's the equivalent of me walking up to a random person and saying, "Binge eating won't fix your problems." Or, "Consumerism won't solve your problems."

I was annoyed, especially because I was walking with my son. Fortunately, he was monologuing about a game we both play and didn't notice Passing Rude Girl. But still! I'll do what ever the fuck I want to with my body. If I want to starve or binge or slam heroin in my veins, it's my choice. Grrr.

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so lost right now

I wish I knew what I was doing. Afloat in my life, I find avoidance to be my only relief. I don't detach; yet, I'm absent. Borders between one thing and the next are so fuzzy and nothing feels right.

What is this appetite? This hunger? And why does it never leave me any more? Is this the accumulation of a lifetime spent in the realm of eating disorders? Have the long term deficiencies caught up with me?

I don't understand how to do this and win. Clearly, I'm not "beating" this. I'm neither at peace, nor am I particularly agitated. In a way, I'm just resigned to my fate. I don't even care if I get fat. Okay. That's a lie. I care, but not enough to stop myself from binging and purging.

It's become a complete struggle to keep anything down. When I do decide to give digesting a "meal" a go, I spend hours in a state of heightened anxiety. I feel the food seeping into body, my cells growing plump. I don't think I have ever felt this large before. I'm not kidding. The scale puts me at 96 pounds but I might as well be twice that.

Putting clothes on, bathing, using lotion; these acts are terrifying for me because I have to deal with my body. I can't bear it. My waist measures 23.75 inches. My thighs are up to 18.75 inches. Everything is getting bigger.

Increasing protein was a huge mistake! I tried to increase fat and take a flax supplement thinking it would take care of my fat soluble vitamin deficiencies, but no. I'm not absorbing the nutrients, not absorbing / metabolizing fats properly and it's fucking me up. It's fucking everything up.

I can't find work. My mortgage is one month behind. My son is fucked up. My daughter needs me. A married man has the hots for me. My friend is dying. I haven't been laid for almost two years. I told two people about my brother molesting me. My electricity is in danger of being shut off. I have a bench warrant for not paying a parking ticket. Et cetera.

If I can't control my fucking food issue, then what business do I have trying to control anything?

backing away from the edge

Image by The U.S. National Archives via Flickr


I wish I never got out of control with my insanity, my eating disorder, my anxiety; whatever, it's all the same crazy brain. When I'm acting out the self destructive behaviors and feeling like I have no say in what I'm doing to myself, I get so freaked out. Last week, suicidal ideation was my only escape.

Having found myself stuck again in a cycle of binging and puking - and not my more typical oh-the-day-is-over-I-feel-full-gotta-puke-now b/p thing - this was days of non-stop food craving insanity. I'd probably have been better off if I'd have made myself digest one of those boxes of cereal I'd eaten, but come on. No way.

What I'd like to know is this, when was the "magic moment" that snapped me out of it and why did I snap out of it? It's got to be anxiety related because I was under a shit ton of pressure and worry in regards to my quite ill child, unpaid bills, dying friend and thus and such.

Argh, but I don't know! It's not like all the worries have vanished. Maybe it's my menstrual cycle, my brain's need for fat, carbs and protein, my will to survive.

Some force pulled me back a few paces. I'm still acting out ED behaviors, but they're manageable. It's back to the "usual" for me:  restricting calories, obsessive thoughts and actions like, relentless calculations and exercising for hours. This I can handle. I feel much safer this way.

Related articles

• A new study on self-injury behavior encourages quick and targeted intervention (eurekalert.org)
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teetering on the edge

Image by yewenyi via FlickrHow is it that I'm so close to the edge again? First, let me define that. For me, the edge is the point when my eating disorder and accompanying mental crutches are no longer working for me.

The edge is when the facade comes down and I have to see myself for what I am. At that point, I become very shaky, very unstable. In order to avoid reality, I crank up the sick behaviors a little bit more. So, I'm fasting. I'm fasting in order to forget everything I am and all that I'll never be.

I'm fasting because I ate in the middle of the night while zonked on benzos. Some things never change.

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black swan put me out of my head

Image by ario_ via FlickrA few days ago, I saw Black Swan. The film floored me, pushed me way past my comfort zone and left me feeling exposed, vulnerable. It's almost like Aronofsky understands too well the subtle everyday traumas associated with mental illness, with our deeper private selves. Or are we, who live with our illnesses, so obvious to the greater world around us?

I identified with the character, Nina, a bit too much. I was that kind of dancer, always seeking precision and perfection in my movements. I needed to know exactly how my body was to be at each second. I didn't "free form" dance, not in ballet. And I had perfect technique. I needed it. With that, I was held together. I understood how I fit in to space and time as long as I was dancing. Peace of mind was in the studio, in the mirrors, where I could see myself in perfect form.

It doesn't take much to disrupt that balance though. With Nina, we witness an extreme transformation as her illness takes the yoke and flies her to a devastating paradox. Aware of her madness, she chooses to accept it. She chooses love and releases herself from the demons. Her fate is understood. She understands that she must succumb to her madness.

I've been in moments like that. In the moments before attempting suicide, you find that grace. Though your plight may be awful, you accept it with dignity and do what you must. Sigh.

Madness sucks as does getting tired. I want to explore the impact of this film more though. It brought up a lot of issues. I need to get them sorted and put away again.

crazy ex, FUCK OFF!

So I was opening my email as I tend to do, and was stunned by what I saw. My last husband, aka gas lighting pro, sent me a message.

Subject line: happy anniversary ;) 

I kid you not. This dude married me then split a couple months later when he realized that I wasn't going to sign my house over to him, nor was I going to allow him to treat me or my children abusively. Mother fucker. How dare he email me. Says he wants to talk, but doesn't have my number. Dude can get it from someone if he wants it badly enough.

I deleted the message. I'm not going to respond. Ignore. As a matter of fact, I set up a filter to delete all of his sent emails straight away. Whatever he wants, he'll have to find it somewhere else. So there.

Honestly though, I wonder if he's back in my town. I fear he'll come knocking on my door. I hope he's still 1200 miles away. Seriously, I do. The guy freaks me out.

I puked today. Though I did it before I got the email, so it's not like that was an ED trigger. I'm just pissed; pissed that he thinks it's alright to send me a jovial email on the eve of the anniversary of the wedding. What a dick. I have no attachment to this day and I've had no contact with him for almost five years.

GAH. Just when things had gotten calm. :D  Yeah, right.

THIS IS HOW I FEEL

effing cheese cracker nightmare

The past 24 hours has been kind of messed up, ED-wise. I woke in the middle of the night and ate a bunch of crackers, cheez its to be exact. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I went to barf.

Yeah. Ever try to purge that crap? Cheez its become a solid lump of fat and carbs impenetrable by most substances once they've been chewed and swallowed. Normally, if I wanted that sweet, cheesy, salty, fatty snack, I'd spit out what I'd chewed. But during a zombie binge, forget it. For an hour I tried to get all of it out of me. Water, water, water, purge, purge, purge. Needless to say, very little made it into the toilet.

In a panic, because I was feeling like a whale, I took three, only three, laxies. Here's the messed up part. I didn't really remember what I'd done until I was getting out of bed and doubled over with stomach pain. Silly me. I can't take laxatives! They kill me.

Immediately, I felt a need to throw up. Like watering mouth and nausea, not like a purge. Grr. My morning was stained by this. I didn't get my daughter off to school. (Which ended up being ok because she's ill.) Within a hour I was on the toilet and have been off and on the toilet all freaking day. I've had nothing to eat because the evil cheez it experience used all 800 cals. AND I could only manage 30 minutes of working out.

Fuck! I'd have been better off skipping the laxies, but being empty feels so good. In a twisted way, it's been worth it. I feel so much "cleaner" now.

All I know is that I'm looking forward to 800 cals of healthy food tomorrow.

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800 calorie days

I had a successful 800 calorie day yesterday and worked out for about two and a half hours. I won't be able to work out that long today, but I am planning on an 800 cal repeat.

I had air popped popcorn in the middle of the night. Yes, I do that. I wake up in a stupor and eat. Sometimes not remembering until I see evidence of it in the morning. I hate it. Anyway, I'll be starting the day with 250 calories. (I always round up.)

As far as where I am with my eating disorder...I can say this. Right now, my hair feels thick and healthy. That took a couple months to achieve. But if I have to pick between having a weight over 95 pounds and thick hair or a weight closer to 90 pounds and thin hair, I'll take the lower weight and the thinner hair.

Know what I mean?

Related articles

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ain't dead yet

Hi all. I've been away from the internet lately, but I'm managing to make my way back into things. Winter was hard, so hard. I really had myself messed up there for a while. But here I am. Ready to do it all over again.

I'm terrified to weigh myself, but I've measured. My waist has gone from 23" to 23.75". I think it's safe to assume that my entire body is covered with an extra .75" of fat.

So, I have to get rid of it. Obviously.