In half an hour, I'll be meeting with local ED specialist Liz Lockett, at my house. I'm not sure what's going to go on, but when I met her at the doctor's, I thought she was class, as was her assistant Deb Tarry (who I'll be seeing sometime in August). I've finally found a doctor who knows what she's talking about (unlike Dr. Kully who was shit), who is probably someone I can talk to properly and be understood rather than have someone sitting there like a lemon asking how many times a day I cut myself, despite the fact that I've said about 47 bajillion times that I don't.

However, I'm still a little anxious about the appointment. I bet that most of the people she treats are actually real anorexics/bulimics rather than people like me who look like they've just wandered out of an empty biscuit factory which was full before I entered. I checked my appearance - I can feel my ribs from both front and back, my collarbones, a bit of my spine and my slightly protruding hipbones, but my gigantimous tits, wobbly arse and thunder thighs are not good. On top of all that, I stepped on the scale and I saw my most hated number - 8. I'm 8st0, 112lbs. That's disgusting, grossly overweight, especially for a shortarse like me.

Now I feel even worse. Ugh.

m.a. x