On Monday my therapist and I talked about my idea of perfection. This is it exactly, a ballerina. They are the most beautiful, graceful, elegant women in the world. I love their will power, dedication and even as some would put it, their obsession. I was never a dancer but I'd kill to be one. Even as a little girl I'd stare at pictures of ballerinas in secret.
I am extremely jealous of dancers but I love them. Every thing about them is so regimented, exact.....Just perfect. Their bodies are so small and delicate but strong at the same time. No matter how much the world changes, they remain classic beauties.
I'm continuing to relapse. My therapist told me from now on when some one asks me how I'm doing to be completely honest with them. I've been doing that and it feels so GOOD! Do you want to know how I'm doing? I feel disgusting, ugly, worthless and pathetic. The smaller I get the happier I become so I don't eat and it feels wonderful. There, the truth, finally.
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