521st entry ~ My confession starts at Mr. B.
4:12 pm
I just wrote this massive email to Mr. B confessing whats on my mind right now. That's the longest email I've ever sent him.
I've had this diary for a few years, and I can go back to the first entry that I noticed I had an issue...with my weight. This diary has been with me through the very high points and through the very low ones. Rachel has also been there too. Unfortunatly, Rachel will not be with me next year. She'll be there through phone calls, but she won't be by my side all the time. I won't be able to have those talks with her next year during yearbook. Only through the phone.
I got on the scale a few days ago. First time in almost two months. No, I didn't keep track, that's a total guess. My weight: 100 pounds. Honestly, I'm sad, I'm not surprised, I'm angry, I'm pissed...I don't know what happened. I guess I stopped caring so much. A part of me still wants to be on that diet. My normal weight for a while there was 95 pounds. I have been doing a lot of extra eating lately, but somehow I didn't think I would've gained that much weight. Sure, I've noticed a few changes in the way my clothes fit..size ones are getting a bit tight...but that could've also been water retention. You know, after all I am female.
In this confession to Mr. B I told him the whole story. It started off with me never wanting to take a break to eat at the Range. I'd work my ass off to work up a good sweat. I was physically in the best shape of my life, but mentally I was terrible. I would go two days without food and very little water. I didn't care if I lived or died. This all went under the radar to Mickey though. My parents don't know either. Rachel was the only one. I snapped myself out of this mess. Everyone had an idea something was up, but nobody did anything or said anything. I put Mrs. Maedke through hell and back while we were away in Green Bay and Orlando. But I didn't care. I couldn't gain a pound, an ounce even.
So why do I bring this up again? Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid it's going to happen again. When I go away to college in August/September, my life is going to go through a lot of shit. I'm going to be away from home for the first time, I'm going to be under so much stress tring to be the perfect student. I'm going to resort to not eating. Nobody at whitewater knows my history, I'm not willing to cry for help when I'm at that point. Rachel would know...but whos to say I'm going to admit what I'm doing to myself? I probably won't notice it either. Its just a silly game to me, it releaves the stress and pressure from life.
Am I scared of what might happen? A little. Am I willing to tell anyone what's happening right now? Maybe. Will I? Probably not. Do I have enough courage to stand up against these thoughts? No.
It's going to be an interesting year.
Amanda
PS: Happy 22nd Mr. B.