sex sex sex sex

sex sex sex sex.
sex sex sex
sex
sex
sex
tonight
whoo.

Old cartoons and showoffs.

Tomorrow I climb Australia's biggest mountain with my ex-fuck buddy.

I WILL NOT FUCK HIM
KISS HIM
GO DOWN ON HIM
OR LET HIM DO ANY OF THE ABOVE TO ME

okay?
okay.

In summary

I eat too much and I'm considering cheating on my boyfriend.
Bad person.

Fast day 1.

Over the day one hump, really, I never eat after 3pm anyway and its now 3:44pm on Election Sunday.

(fuck Abbott. fuck Gillard.)

Not that hungry.
Would like a mango though.

Boys and toys.

My sex drive is too high.
His is average (too low.)

He wants to cuddle.
I want to do something or fuck again.

He's gentle.
I want him to be rough.

I think he loves me.
I don't know.

4 kilos

I've gained 4 kilos.
I'm on 69 kilos.
Not enough sex to work off the gross amount of food I've eaten.

I haven't eaten bread in a year.
I did today.
With butter.

I vomited it all up.

I've eaten 8 oranges and 6 bananas.

All still down.

Too many nuts and sultanas.

Back to fruit only.
But first, a 7 day water fast is in order.
It'll drive me mad, but it has to happen. I can see the fat in my hip bones.
My shoulder blades.

I need my ribs back.

You can dangle your carrot..

But I ain't going to reach for it.

I'm fighting back not eating at 9:14 this morning.
Over the weekend I lived on 6 apples and 2 carrots and alpine water.
Then yesterday, inside a house, with lovely people.. I got fed.

2 oatbran muffins.
A salad with oily olives, sundried tomatos.. avocado.
A huge mango.
2 bananas.
A HUGE amount of sultanas, dried fruit and nuts..

I said to myself, don't vomit.
So I didn't, and now its sitting in my gut.
I can feel it there.
I'm not hungry but I want to eat to get rid of it.
Since when does eating remove the problems caused by eating?

I have a quarter of a watermelon, that can be my breakfast lunch dinner.
Go for a run, you lazy fuck.
I need that tattooed on my forehead.

Dynomite so..

From my iPhone.

The weekend was boys, sex, mud, cooking for said boys, Hilux's... I have to admit. I enjoyed myself. I enjoyed being with a boy who was obviously my 'partner'. His workmates questioned us. He answered them d though we're together-together. We are. I still don't think that feels right. I met his folks. His folks liked me. They fed md a lot. Slight disdain.

He took me to the river in his lunchbreak today.

I survived.

Anxiety.

My tasks for the day.

By the way, did I mention I'm not eating until that booze hits my stomach tonight and shakes it up?

I've noticed after Vodka + sex, usually I'm a few kilos lighter the next morning.

Great excuse.

He told me that "no girl of his" was going to drink straight alcohol. Yeah, watch me, sweetheart.

Don't think I haven't hidden that before.

Stupid girl.

Today is the day I'm going to have to go out and be social with a bunch of people I haven't met and one who's been inside me.

Great.

Double this with food, a bottle of Scotch, much beer, one horny man, 30 other horny men, big 4x4 vehicles, probably mostly Toyota Cruisers... this is going to be a weekend to remember.

And the thoughts set in.. I need to find clothes (warm enough for snow) that are flattering. I need to impress his friends. I rightly can't impress them with my fantastic oral skills... or can I?

No.
I can't.
Bad.

So it's 9:24am and I need to be there at 5pm.
I'm already getting ready.

Hair needs wrangling.
Clothes need washing and finding.
iPhone needs charging.
Skin needs hiding.
Goddamn.

I'm already preparing for what my drunk self is going to do.
I know, due to being one of the only girls going, I'm going to be thrown into feeding the men duty.
Drunk self can never remember to cook anything.
So, Sober Self has written down the recipe and instructions for damper on a camp oven.
Don't tell me I can't think ahead.

Soda and circumstances..

3 new followers.
Really?
Thank-you for the connection, girls.

Bricks.

getting laid in the car

=

casualties.

Communication breakdown..

I feel less in love tonight.
Good.

Girls gone mild..

Talking about food now.

I eat healthily.

Health is my aim. My final goal.
Strength, fragility, stealth, a lithe body, youth.. beauty.

I don't eat cooked food, salts, spices.
I don't drink anything but water. No Coke, no juices.
I eat fruit and vegetables and nuts.
I drink pure, clean water.
I don't take pills.
I don't put crap on my skin.
I don't eat sweets, chocolates, or junk, and I haven't in years.
I don't eat breads, pastas or anything like that.
No animal products, no cream, dairy, meat, eggs, honey...
Though, hypocritically, I do drink alcohol.

I have eaten like this for a long time.
I just don't eat enough of it.
I'm not lazy.

I will purge. I will stick my fingers down my throat and vomit if I feel any sort of fullness. I'm that mix of ana and mia. I don't eat much, but more than"much" and it needs to be gone from my body. I like feeling hungry. I fast. I eat too much dried fruit and nut mix, though, my only vice.

Why aren't I 50kg?

How to Tie a Tie..

You know how when you get a new love interest, or, who am I kidding, fuck-buddy, you tend you mull over their words and actions? That's what gets you to sleep at night. It's the thought you go back to time and time again. Something they said, a smile, a look, the way he held your thighs while he orgasmed..

Well, for me, right now, it's some things he said. It's been two weeks.

The first time we met up, I thought okay; sex. Awesome. He said little quips like "you're not just a random fuck, you know, I really like you". I just put it down to he wanted a second go later. He asked me if I'd ever thought about kids, a family...

Second time?  He started telling me we'd make pretty babies. He told me to make love to him. He told me to kiss him like I loved him. I did.

This didn't frighten me.
He's a successful, good looking, tall, handsome guy.
What's there's the be frightened of?
Commitment.
I can fake that.

Third time, over a weekend.. he told me how gorgeous I look when I wake up in the morning, how I'm going to "make a really hot 21 year old.. and I think I want to be there for that." How "you know, at certain angles... you look like a supermodel." Being terribly self conscious, I took these in the "oh god if I was 5 kilos lighter he'd say I WAS a supermodel.. that I AM a hot 18 year old! Oh jesus."

He told me I didn't need to lose weight, but I could if I wanted to. He was sincere. He wasn't cruel.

He told me he always wanted a girl like me, but he's now not sure what to do with me.
While I straddled him in my truck, kissing him, breasts against his chest and hips grinding against his, he looked at me in wonder... "where did I find you?"

His mum would like me.
Adventuuuureee...

The Baker's Wife..

I drew a self portrait.
I think self portraits.. how you see yourself.. are very revealing.

It's not as bad as it could have been. I think, picking it apart.. the fact I'm hiding my body, showcasing green eyes, bored, listless, languorous appearance...

it says a lot.

Frisbee..

Cold morning.

Another one.

I just ate two small bowls of raw oats and water, with some dried

fruit.

It needs to come up NOW.

2 litres of water later...

Must have a flat tummy to meet his mates this weekend.

Must.

MUST.

Take this lying down..

It's been raining for 2 days. Two.
I'm in the damn desert.
What the?

The new boy has his mind elsewhere. The only reason I'm on MSN/Facebook right now is to talk to him, I'd rather be sleeping, but hey, he plays the odd move on Scrabble with me...

So why not talk about my filthy eating habits?

I restrict like crazy.
Anywhere from 0-900 calories a day, mostly of fruit.
Nearly my entire diet is raw.
I feel guilty should I have a real meal.
I'm not heavily overweight - by 5kg, I know this. I don't care.

My daily meals consist of some trail mix, an apple, a banana, a few oranges..

Should I eat something larger, I shove my fingers down my throat and bring it all back up again behind some trees on our 30 acres.

I bring all the guilt up with the stomach-chewed food.

I'm only a little obsessed.
Only a little.
Promise.

4x4 (4-wheel driving) this weekend, with a bunch of his mates, in the snow.
The cold, cold, wet white snow.

from here to maternity..

 Men.

I'm troubled with happiness and wariness thinking about the men in my life.

The man I thought I loved, Michael, held onto me for 3 years with his sheer bulk, high cheekbones, luscious lips, biceps as wide as my waist and creativeness. He also had beautiful eyes. And he was a great lay. Has to be said.

I waited.

I waited.

I was his booty call.

I waited.

He left overseas.

I left the mainland.

We talked (thank-you, MSN/Facebook), and I found myself longing for him. Heartstrings being played and tugged and licked and chewed.

Three years I held out. I waited for him.

Then, it changed.

I met someone else.
Online, no doubt.

Michael, suddenly was obsolete.

I met this someone at the local pub. He rescued me from the nasty, hungry eyes of 40 year old men. I instantly wanted him. For the sex, mostly. I thought, great, I can do this and not care.

I had just met him.

We drove to the woods.

He had a great sound system. Great ride.

To the fucking woods.

I liked him instantly.
I wasn't frightened.

This was danger and he was dangling me in it.

I knew this forest, no one would ever hear me scream.

We had sex.
Uh, a lot of it.

He told me I wasn't just a random fuck.

I blocked this out. No. I don't need to hear that, don't make me feel bad for what I'm doing.

I like you, he said, I really like you.

Yeah, whatever, you're inside me, next you'll be telling me you want my babies.

Well, turns out he does.

He wants to be with me. Really be with me.

And I want that. I want him.

I could have his babies.

I'm scared.

Frightened.

Let it go, girl..

Adventure?

I eat celery and parsnips, and he eats fish and chips, but we get along fine.

I've known him now for two weeks.

Somehow, I don't think I'm single anymore.

Camera shy.

So, I'm sitting here in doonas' listening to the rain tapping away on the tin roof at 11:38am, August 11th. It' s Winter. It's cold. And I've started a blog to try and remember who I am. Diaries of the Twenty-first century.


I feel like a cat in sunshine.


Being 18, being a girl. I just moved from one small town to an even smaller one. It has one pub, a bed and breakfast, sleazy fat balding men, and thousands of acres of wheat and oats and sheep. It is sandwiched between two huge inland metropolitans, which I visit with the wide-eyed marvel of a small child.


I have secrets. These will be pulled like chains through this blog.


I don't eat.
I toy with men.
I'm indecisive.
I feel like a liar.
I need work.
I CRAVE to work.
I need more education. I need university.


I could be anyone. You might see me in the street.
I hope you do. Recognise me. Please.


Welcome to my scribblings.