Today I'm going to the waterfront with my boyfriend for a picnic.  For him I've packed a turkey sandwich, a ham sandwich and some cookies.  He is a healthy boy with a healthy appetite, and also only eats one meal a day if he is lucky.  There is no food in his house and I endeavor to feed him whenever I see him.

For me, I've packed a sandwich with home-roasted veggies, two apples, and some cherries.  I will eat them.  I have to eat them.  I will not purge them.

Everything I've eaten for the last...three months perhaps?  The last two, certainly, I have purged.  Okay, perhaps a slight exaggeration.  There are times, perhaps every other day, that I mange to convince myself not to throw up some frozen yogurt here, or some vegetarian sausage there, or perhaps an apple that I ate when I was in a place where I couldn't purge.

But the truth of the matter is that my digestive system is so ruined at that this point that I could eat these things, find a toilet three hours later and purge them back up without a problem.  My stomach doesn't work anymore.

I've lost seven pounds in the last three weeks.  Five of them have been in the last two.  When you weigh less than 100 pounds, this is significant.  Do not do this to yourself.  It is slow suicide.

I haven't had a bowel movement in two weeks, simply because there is no food in my system.  That is why I have to eat today.  I want something to move in my system.  I am hoping that being at the waterfront and having to walk a good ways to get to the bathroom will help.  I just hope the crushing guilt of having eaten an actual meal will not send me into a panic attack.  There is the small comfort of knowing that all of it is whole foods, home cooked, vegetarian, and not swimming in hydrogenated fats, oils, and processed sugars.

Wish me luck.