Magical Charlotte

A thought after a phone call...

2011-11-09T23:58:00.001Z

Rather than sitting around worrying and wondering why he still thinks it's okay to flirt with other girls online when he's in a relationship, I think it's more prudent to accept that only someone hiding insecurities would feel the need to be so horrendously immature and negligent of another's feelings.

It doesn't say anything about me, only him.

Ninth circle.

2011-11-02T17:42:00.001Z

The Amazon Kindle was surely created in the deepest circle of Hell.

I sincerely hope anyone who is familiar with Dante's Divina Commedia will never concede to owning such an epic masterpiece in eBook form.

Who lives in Lincolnshire and likes adventures?

2011-11-02T16:14:00.000Z

Lincolnshire, I have decided, must be the single most deserted county in the whole of England.

Last Friday I left university excited for the week long expanse of homely comfort which lay ahead. Live TV, home cooked meals, and no insistant tap on the door from the cleaner at 9am wanting to empty my recycling bin were all I could think about for days before.

The novelty has worn off now. I'm not a Lincolnshire hater by any means; if anything moving away has given me a sort of affection for the place which I didn't have before. I like the quiet here, and it's certainly much more beautiful than Norfolk could ever be, but the lack of people is what is really getting to me.

There is always someone to talk to at uni. Most evenings I can be found sitting in the kitchen of the flat opposite mine talking, or maybe even pre-drinking with my friends. If I wanted to go shopping, or to the cinema, or even to the library, there would almost certainly be someone willing to tag along with me. Here there isn't that.

I'm so motherfooshin' bored.

Who lives in Lincolnshire and likes adventures?

Lament

2011-10-04T16:29:00.001+01:00

I knew eating at uni would be difficult. Space is at a premium here, and there isn't really enough room in my kitchen for more than one person to be cooking at once. When I shop I am always conscience of the available fridge space; I don't want to take up more than my fair share. I miss my home comforts, and I miss my mum just buying me things because she knows I like them. I want a lasagne that hasn't been nuked to death in the microwave, and my little pots of Ambrosia strawberry custard. I miss those.

Buttons

2011-09-13T20:01:00.001+01:00

I just happened to come across some of my old writings from when I was ill. It was very weird indeed reading back through, not because I found them triggering, but because I could only vaguely remember writing them and questioned whether it was me who wrote them at all. I know it must have been, but it was like remembering something from another life, or something that a best friend might have gone through, not me. My style of writing has changed somewhat too; I used to be much more conversational than I am now, perhaps because I didn't really think anyone would ever read what I wrote. Now I feel pressurised to be interesting and to have impeccable punctuation and grammar.

There are lists of what I had eaten that day, calories and excises. Accounts of my troubles at college, and how I would skive off to work out at the gym, or to drive to Tesco to buy food for a binge. I don't miss that life one bit. As much as I long to be skinny still, I now know that my self worth should not be measured in calories and the number on a set of scales. I'm healthy now, and I sure as hell look better. I looked tired back then, almost as if everything was too much for me. Everything was too much for me.

One of the most interesting things I found was an account of one of my eating disorder counselling sessions:

"I had my counselling session today. It was a bit different to normal because usually we just sit and talk about how I am feeling and whatnot, but today we played with buttons. Well, not "played" but she had a big box of hundreds of buttons and she told me to choose a button to represent all the people in my life. Here's what I chose:

Me - A rather dingy dull button that might once have been silver were it not so tarnished. It had little flowers engraved into it and Maria said that it could be pretty and shiny again if someone were to show it some love. It was really light as well, which was weird because it I thought it was made out of metal. It had a whole in the back from something or another which worked it's way into the main body of the button. Take from that what you will.

The ex boyfriend - Massive and black. (Not that he was black but I felt the colour was representative of his personality and how he thinks of others.) It was round, as buttons generally are but it was like a really shallow bowl. It had four holes for the thread to go through. It was like it was pretending to be this perfect shiny big round button... but really it wasn't all that great because it went inwards and it was shallow. And I could see through the holes.

My mum - I can't think of the word of the top of my head, but it was that kinda texture you get on the inside of a shell. It was pink but there was this layer underneath that was white. It was really smooth to touch and I liked it. But there was another layer underneath you could only see in certain lights.

My brother - A medium round brown button. I said I chose it because of the colour and because it was boring and wouldn't add anything to the outfit it was on. It would just sit there.

My dad - A tiny metal button with a pattern etched into it, which I didn't even notice at first because it was that small. A tiny metal button which would do no good on any coat or item of clothing; it could only be there for decoration, pretending to be doing something useful. Maria pointed out that it was metal like my button and that it had a similar pattern... I don't know what that means but she said it was interesting.

My gran - I didn't realise but it was actually a pink sequin like jewel I picked up. It was multi-faceted (if that's the right word?) and sparkled. My gran sparkled before she got ill.

Maria pointed out that when I picked them I placed them in a line so that they were all separate. Not all bunched together in a pile. When she was explaining she gathered them into a little pile, and I had a mad urge to get the ex boyfriend button and throw it as far away as possible from my other buttons."

That was from the 18th January 2010, five days before my 19th birthday. I had forgotten that time my counsellor had made me choose buttons to represent everyone. It might have been a load of old shit, but it also might have given her some great insight.

I remember how I thought about myself back then. I felt worthless. That ex boyfriend had done a good job on me. Two months later I would have finally decided I was ready for recovery. My heart was in it, which it never had been before, and then just a few days after I made that momentous decision I found myself with a new boyfriend. Someone who made everything seem just that little bit brighter just by being there, and I knew that someone did want me.

I'm glad I found this because it reminds me how far I've come, there is still a way to go, but I'm eating a regular 1200 kcals per day now, maintaining my weight and eating those things which I never would have allowed myself before. It's great, it really is. I feel sorry for all those pro-ana girls; I bet they would kill to have cake and chocolate and BREAD. I know I would have.

Healthy eating by post / Awesome camera!

2011-09-07T14:20:00.000+01:00

So I persuaded an ex boyfriend to help make up his past misdemeanors by allowing me to borrow his camera to film a video. He is quite an amazing photographer, and owns an equally amazing camera which far surpasses my little iSight. The camera is a Canon 5D mkII.

To see my Graze box in detail click HERE.

Thank you to Wil for filming me, and for the use of your coffee shop. Although I demand to share your next Graze box with you, since you sorta ate most of mine!

Why I don't believe in trigger warnings

2011-09-06T23:57:00.000+01:00

Trigger warnings are a touchy subject for some. Personally I don't see why they cause so much controversy. I never add a trigger warning to any of my videos, and I'm certain that at some point someone will ask me why. When they do I shall direct them here, to this blog post.

Trigger warnings are ridiculous.

Firstly, if one is searching for videos on YouTube about eating disorders, which they must be to stumble across my channel, they must anticipate potentially coming across something which may trigger them. If they were not searching for eating disorder related videos then surely watching a video where the video title infers something triggering is their own look out. I always title my videos truthfully. Don't watch a video entitled 'Charlotte makes mars bar cake!' and then complain that seeing me make that cake is triggering you!

Secondly, mentioning my dress size, (and my height, although I've never done this in the same video, let alone the same sentence), should not warrant a trigger warning, neither should standing up in a video or revealing more than my head and shoulders. I should not be made to feel ashamed of my body, guilty for my healthy weight allowing me to fit into a certain dress size naturally. I will not apologise for my genetics. If you take issue with this you may as well tell people in the street they can't walk about in any sort of figure-revealing clothing in case they trigger you.

You are responsible for what triggers you. I'm not. Different people are triggered by different things: I know that I get triggered by some very random things. I can't possibly know what you may or may not find triggering. It is up to you: use your common sense and stay clear of a video which you think might affect you. Read the title, read the description.

That's why I refuse to put trigger warnings on any video. I like to think my subscribers are a smart bunch who can use their common sense. :)

Videos and tangents

2011-09-01T23:57:00.000+01:00

I'm a lover of organisation. It's necessary, I think, to have a space in which everything has it's own place. I love clean lines and simplicity. White is probably my favourite colour, but only when it is offset with pink or possibly a bright blue.

I like to know exactly where everything is, and it must have a reason for being there. My YouTube channel and this blog is annoyingly disorganised. I wish, especially for YouTube, that I had one clear direction which I never deviated from. I used to: in the old days I would make a vlog several times a week where I would speak about how I was getting on with eating, how college was going and how I felt about my counselling sessions. Now, even though it is brilliant that I no longer have those worries, I find that as a result my videos have become more random. I film what I feel like filming. I don't even specifically talk about eating disorders anymore.

You don't seem to mind it, which is good. I just wish I knew what my direction was... but then again maybe people enjoy my going off at a tangent. I always try and film video requests if I possibly can. Well, assuming they are eating disorder based. Some requests I get a very niche, and clearly from people who are also regular viewers of the beauty community. How many times have I been asked for a room tour, a make up tutorial or my skin care routine? Of course I DO try to oblige, but seriously, a make up tutorial from me, whilst being comedy gold, would not be very helpful. I think when I have my room at uni organised I might show you how I sort out my things, but that's as close as you'll ever get to a room tour.

I quite like the idea of doing the whole 'life-casting' thing. You know, filming yourself as you go about your day to day life, and I have done some of that and received no complaints. I also like the idea of doing more topic specific eating disorder videos, 'How to tell a parent you have an eating disorder' would be an example of one I have already filmed. I think these videos might be the most helpful to the largest demographic.

I don't know. Maybe I'll just go with it. I'll just film whatever the hell I feel like... it's working so far.

Brownies!

2011-08-29T15:18:00.002+01:00

I'm having such a creative day food-wise! Right now I have the most amazing smelling brownie in the oven. Unfortunately I cannot take credit for this amazing tin of chocolate-y goodness: I found the recipe on my new favourite YouTube channel, Sorted Food.

I used peanut M&Ms, white chocolate chips, strawberry flakes, hazelnuts and broken up pieces of Crunchie to top my brownie. :)

This is my attempt above. Pretty darn good, even if I do say so myself!

For the precise recipe I followed, click HERE.

5 letters

2011-08-29T00:50:00.000+01:00

My official college certificates arrived earlier this week. Thus far the only indication of my attainment had been the breakdown of results which were in that little white envelope on the day of my graduation. But now I am the proud owner of a three page certificate, printed on lovely, thick paper. A tangible record of my achievements this past year. I did it against all the odds; whilst fighting to recover from a bastard of an eating disorder.

It may seem big headed of me, but I did sort of assume I was going to do well. I've always been an over achiever, something which I am proud of, and whilst some YouTube people take offence to it, I shall never apologise for reaching my potential. Nevertheless, the idea that I could get a straight distinction profile was one which I never really entertained. The only thing I have ever failed at in my life was my Performing Arts BTEC... okay, so merit, (or B), grades might be okay for some, but for me it was a serious let down. It knocked my confidence. I didn't expect much more than that to be honest, and my tutors at the time did say I would have done so much better had it not been for an untimely relapse into my disordered ways, and the onset of the worst period of my anorexia thus far. That was the time I was actually diagnosed - years before this had been happening, and yet never a diagnosis, just a disrupted education. I suppose I must have been "sick enough" that time.

Anyway, I'm immensely happy with the first two pages of my certificate. The first has the fancy writing, and a signature from someone official. The second a breakdown of the modules and grades: distinction, distinction, distinction, distinction and so on. Oh, but then the third page... I can't help it... it's the perfectionist within, but every time I see it: distinction, distinction, distinction, distinction, MERIT, distinction, distinction ect.

That one bloody merit. 5 letters have ruined it for me. I must stress that am in no way belittling other people who achieve merits, if that's your target and you hit it then be proud of yourself! But for me... I could have had straight distinctions, and that really kills.

Anorexic and miserable

2011-08-24T11:41:00.000+01:00

Even though the overriding tone of this post is pro-recovery, I suppose this may trigger some. As always I will point out that trigger warnings are pointless because everyone is triggered by different things. However this post is in keeping with the general tone of my blog: pro-recovery.

Yesterday I sort of half decided that I need to lose weight for uni in September. Ridiculously I often come to this conclusion: birthday party - must lose weight. Holiday - must lose weight. Bikini wax - must lose weight.

There it is again, that feeling of not being good enough, and somehow my self esteem and self worth has become intrinsically linked to my weight...or what I think is my weight.

In the past few weeks when my dad was home I lost some weight. I don't know how much exactly, and truth be told I prefer not knowing. Whilst keeping myself in the dark does stop me from being triggered into more weight loss, without the scales I never really notice my body changing until it becomes starkly obvious. It seems I can lose weight without even trying for the simple reason that if I fail to hit my 1200kcal target I won't maintain. Last November I got to around a size zero before I even noticed something was wrong.

I doubt in the last two weeks I've had to regain my usual eating pattern that I've even gained up to the point where I was a month ago, but even so I feel a bit tubby. There have been binges of course. It's to be expected after 3 weeks of a totally disrupted eating schedule, and I did go a bit crazy.

I feel that people at university might like me more if I'm skinnier. Fuck, that's mental isn't it? I can't even explain why I feel this need to lose. It just seems natural to me, and fighting it seems so wrong.

I will fight it though. I have enough clarity in my own mind these days to see that I don't need to lose weight, and people are not going to endear themselves to the girl rocking the skeletor look as readily as they would a happy, healthy girl after all.

Healthy and happy is definitely better than anorexic and miserable.

It's a snake, ahhhh, it's a snake

2011-08-23T23:30:00.000+01:00

Note: The following story has nothing to do with the fact I watched Snakes on a Plane last night. Anyone who says it does is a dirty liar.

On my drive home from the petrol station I saw a snake in a plastic carrier bag. Honestly.

My car was running low on petrol so I nipped to the garage just round the corner from my house to fill up. The main road was quite busy, so rather than waiting for an evasive gap in the traffic flow or a kindly driver to let me into the queue, I decided to turn left, rather than my usual right, avoid the wait and take the back roads round to my house.

After turning off the main road I noticed that the car in front of me slowing right down to avoid something in the middle of our side of road. Following suit I slowed to a crawl and maneuvered around the obstruction. There was a large white carrier bag in the road, that I could see a mile off, but as I closed the distance I saw what was unmistakably a snake of some description. It looked like Nagini. The coils and the pattered body make me sure it was a snake in that bag. As I drove off towards home I wondered if I should have stopped to help the snake? It had looked pretty dead to me, but what if it wasn't? It would surely die from cold or get hit by a car. I felt so mean because even if I had stopped, and the snake had been alive, what would I have done? For starters it was probably too heavy for me to lift, and secondly snakes aren't exactly cuddly. It might not take kindly to me bothering it, and I couldn't take it home with me; it might have tried to eat Cassie.

I think it was dead anyway.

It makes me sad because someone obviously dumped the snake there. Maybe they bought it as a pet and it grew too big for them to handle? That's really awful.

Poor snake. I have named that snake Slippery. RIP, Slippery.

Haribo

2011-08-21T13:21:00.001+01:00

I told my mum I hadn't eaten yet, so she went out to buy me one of the ham sandwiches I like from Tesco. Whilst she's been gone I ate 7 pieces of Haribo and now I feel guilty as hell.

Bloody hell eating disorder.

Facebook friend requests

2011-08-18T17:35:00.000+01:00

Maybe someone could go back through all my videos, tweets and comments adding up how many times I've explicitly said that I will not accept friend requests from anyone I do not know in person on my personal Facebook. I feel like I've been through this so many times before, but again I reiterate: please do not attempt to add my personal Facebook. Your request will not be accepted.

To be honest I'm not entirely sure how people from YouTube are finding my Facebook account. I get far too many requests for it to simply be them chancing across me via mutual friends, or other people who vlog and do accept requests. At this very moment I have around 50 friend requests pending from people whom I don't know, and that's not counting the ones I decline when I am on my phone.

I understand that some of you feel like you know me, but YouTube is not a two way medium. You see me addressing you, talking to you, and yes, whilst I am doing that please remember that all I see is my camera lens or my own image in the screen. I honestly do not care how many mutual friends we have, or if you are really good friends with another one of the collab girls. I don't know you! Surely you can see how that is a bit weird for me? Not to mention that fact that there is a lot of personal information on Facebook: my old school, where I live, where I work, who I work with, who I've been in a relationship with.

I do not wish to sound mean, but a little respect for my privacy would be much appreciated! I feel so guilty having to message person after person saying I can't accept them!

You have so many platforms on which to get to know me: my Facebook page, Twitter, YouTube, VYou, Dailybooth...

What's the obsession with my personal Facebook account?

My favourite book

2011-08-17T21:18:00.002+01:00

The Kindle is sacrilege. I love books, and there is nothing like a book. To hold one in your hands and turn each page is just magical. Books are personal. You can make a book your own; folded down corners and cracked spines. I love it when they get old and battered. The smell.

My favourite book is The Hobbit. I own three copies. One is beautifully new, bought as a Christmas present one year in 2008, the second is a hardcover annotated edition from a Christmas before that, and the third is the first copy I ever owned. 11 years old. This copy is well loved and read; Smaug on the cover has a crack down his middle where I've bent back the front.

I love this book more than I could possibly say. I would hate it on a Kindle though.

Nom nom nom

2011-08-16T20:32:00.000+01:00

Milka chocolate tastes like Christmas. Nom nom nom.

Pathetic fallacy

2011-08-15T21:52:00.001+01:00

When I first started making videos on YouTube I told myself that I would not allow my channel to become mordlin. I suppose it makes sense then that this blog should never become drowned in self pity. I persevere; trying to write about the good, and when I must write about that bad, try and tinge it with some sort of optimism.

Optimism. It's hard to come by some days. Occasionally I feel really lonely, not often as I used to, but it's that same feeling, and it's truly terrifying. I'm not sure what it is or what triggers it. This morning I felt relatively upbeat: aside from having to wake up early to get to Tesco before the mid-morning rush, everything seemed lovely. It was sunny and I put on a pink summery dress to celebrate, sunglasses too. This evening, however, that cerulean expanse has clouded over rendering my summer attire superflous.

Pathetic fallacy is what you would call it.

I felt empty like this before 40 minutes ago, but at 8 o'clock I called a friend, and they didn't answer. Even though I am sure they must have their phone on silent or just be busy doing something it makes me feel so rejected, stupid for trying and bothering them. I just wanted to talk to someone. Not to bring them down into this stupor with me, but to talk, ask about their day and as a result have mine miraculously brightened. I know I have many offers of a simple chat from my subscribers, but I know very few of them well enough to open up like that, and none of them know the real me at all. They don't know how to trigger a smile from me when seconds before I had been in waves of tears.

I need that now. I can't call again though.

I'll go to bed; if I'm asleep I can't feel. It's one of my old tactics, one which I should not revisit, but I don't know what else I could do...except call.

I suck at shopping!

2011-08-15T16:59:00.001+01:00

This morning there was nothing to eat in my house...or rather nothing I wanted to eat. I last ventured out to Tesco exactly a week ago, and whilst I still have about half of the food I bought then, I have run out of the things which I like to eat on a regular basis. My teacakes, for example, didn't last very long once I have decided I would have one for breakfast each morning.

So I drove the 30 minutes to Lincoln this morning, (despite there being a Tesco in my town, literally 2 minutes drive away from my house). I wanted Lilt Zero and some other things which my small local store doesn't stock. I told myself on the journey there that I would spend my money wisely and buy enough to see me through for at least the next few days. Unfortunately however, I suck at shopping.

I spent £33 in total... not very much considering. It's very annoying, mostly because I don't know what else I would buy. Some people spend £100 on their weekly shop, but I spent less than half. Maybe that's just the anorexic in me still.

I talk about it a bit in one of the vlogs I uploaded today. Whilst the actual experience of being in the supermarket went better than usual, I still failed when it came to making a wise decisions over what to purchase.

So now I have lots of tropical juice, Muller Lights and humous. It's okay I suppose; I'm not going to starve.

To upload, or not to upload

2011-08-12T23:11:00.000+01:00

I pre-filmed two videos recently in an attempt to get some sort of upload schedule going. Unfortunately it seems that spontaneity works much better for me, which I suppose isn't that great for you guys because some weeks you get three or four videos, and others you get barely one.

I usually just film when I have something to say, or just feel in the mood. When I don't really have anything to update you on life-wise I usually fulfill a video request, and since I often don't have much to update you on life-wise I urge you to keep providing me with video stimuli.

Upon watching the video I pre-recorded this morning, (due to be uploaded early next week), I felt a little annoyed at myself for speaking about such a serious topic. I know my subscriber count should be validation enough, but I can't help but think "who is going to want to listen to me going on?".

I also know that people like the humour I often, (unintentionally), bring into my videos. This latest video is about self harm, something which, whilst being heavily requested, I didn't really want to talk about. I did though, and it was really hard.

I worry I haven't done it justice.

Maybe I won't upload it.

It's tomorrow!

2011-08-05T18:01:00.001+01:00

Today is day 20 of 21. The penultimate day. Tomorrow he will leave and I can try to get my regular eating pattern back again.

I have to work on the weekend, so on Monday I shall be up bright and early to head to Tesco before it gets busy. Maybe stop off at McDonald's to get a latte, (McDonald's do a consistently excellent latte).

My shopping list is all written, and I decided that I am not allowed to play it safe and revert to Weight Watcher's ready meals and Pepsi Max; I must cook a proper meal at least once every other day for the next 10 days in order to remind myself of the benefits of a good, wholesome meal.

It's going to be hard. They weight I've lost during the past 3 weeks is quite apparent. I still look good, but it's annoying that my new size 8 shorts are baggy. It's a slippery slope, one which I don't want to slide down ever again.

Dark thoughts

2011-07-29T23:42:00.000+01:00

Everyone has to die, right?

Life can only ever be finite, and so worrying about it is an necessary burden.

I'm relatively unencumbered with thoughts of my own mortality. I'm a rational person, and I know death isn't anything to fear: it's merely the logical conclusion. Your body stops working, and so do you, that's all. I can understand why some people find this hard to accept, and whilst I do not agree with organised religion I can see how the concept of some sort of 'afterlife' would make some feel better about it all.

Death is only miserable for those left behind. It's selfish, but I fear being left behind.

Being braver...

2011-07-29T13:32:00.000+01:00

Back when I was restricting my food intake to 300 calories per day I use to make lists. They would consist of all the food I wished I could eat, the food I would eat if I was allowed. The thing about restricting is that EVERYTHING suddenly becomes a huge temptation. I suppose if your body is crying out for nutrients, energy and love you will naturally gravitate towards cake and such like.

This is a precursor to a video which I am planning. I've had so many requests for a 'What I eat after anorexia' video that I think I must get my arse into gear and film it. I plan to do this later on in the summer.

When I had a LiveJournal, millenniums ago, I made such a list. It was very long, full of cakes and biscuits and crisps, stuff which I'm not actually all that fond of.

A list of my favourite foods now shows that my eating habits are much healthier, and more reflective of my actual food preferences, rather than what my starved body was crying out for.

I love toast: White bread, always. I buy a low calorie brand, but I'm working on that.
Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia Frozen Yoghurt: This is love in a tub.
Ham sandwiches: My sandwich of choice. I'm quite picky really, although I avoid buying the low calorie versions nowadays because I realised they taste like wank. Usually I make my own with proper ham bought from the butcher - I'm so not down with the mass produced cheap rubbish.
Smoothie and juice: They make me happy, especially juice from a juice bar.

I do realise of course that my diet is still quite restricted, (not that I only eat the above of course), but I'm trying to get new foods into my diet. They are lots of things I would like to try, but unfortunately one bad experience with food tends to put me off for life. Prawns for example: I had some in London on Wednesday and they were really yummy until I noticed one of them hadn't had the little black vein bit taken out properly. It made me feel rather queasy so I didn't eat anymore, and I don't think I will ever again.

I just need to be braver. I'm going to try and take advantage of any opportunities to try new foods.

Day 11 of 21

2011-07-28T16:51:00.000+01:00

I've not had a proper meal for 11 days now. No doubt some of you were wondering what that #day[?]of21 has been referring to on my Twitter, and I'm sorry for any misunderstanding, as a few people thought I was on some sort of radical crash diet. I assure you it's nothing of the sort; it is simply the countdown to when my dad leaves me in peace once again.

I am sure I've mentioned this before, but for anyone who does not know my dad lives and works in Saudi Arabia, returning home every few months or so.

I hate it and I hate him. Harsh you say? No, not at all. In life, if you don't like someone you are entitled to that opinion, but if said person is a parent or family member all of a sudden it's almost taboo to hate them. I have no feelings whatsoever towards my father, unless you count the resentment. I resent how he knowingly exacerbated my eating disorder, laughed at my frail anorexic form and seemingly strove to upset me through my teenage years. Bonus points if he heard me throwing up in the toilets after meals, or saw the deep cuts I used to make in my arms.

Naturally there came a point where I decided not to care anymore. I'm not entirely sure when it was, maybe about 4 or 5 years ago. All I share with the man is DNA, nothing more and nothing less. The point where we could have salvaged some sort of father/ daughter relationship has long since sailed, and whilst I would welcome a sincere apology, I know that it will never come.

So now when he is here I just keep myself to myself. It's wrong. I shouldn't feel insecure and scared in my own home, but I do. Mum asks why I can't just forgive him, and here is why: this is a man who, when I needed support from my parents, laughed in my face, and bullied me. He would comment on my fluctuating body, "has she put on weight?" and mock me when I would starve but then succumb, "what are you eating that for... there are calories in that you know!". When I had to leave Sixth Form because I had become too sick all he would talk about was how I should get a job and that I couldn't sit around doing nothing forever. I wasn't doing nothing. That was 9 months of my life where my health was in turmoil. Doctors and hospitals and counselors. I wanted nothing more than to go back into education, but it was seemingly impossible for me because I was being brought down continually by someone who should have supported me unconditionally.

He triggers me. I can't eat properly for the next 10 days. Even if I wanted to, the oven is always on it seems; him cooking something for himself and my brother. I can't get even 10 minutes to make myself my traditional morning toast some days. I don't know how much weight I've lost in the past 11 days, but I can tell that I have... my clothes tell me as much. The eating pattern which I worked so hard at for months has gone completely out of the window. I'm waking up at 11am each day because that's less hours I have to spend awake in this house with him. I don't eat anything 'good', I am living on whatever I can grab quickly and take up to my room where I spend 90% of my time. Today I've had 2 small bars of chocolate, a packet of prawn cocktail crisps and some party rings. Awful, awful food which triggers me. I want a meal.

The days after he has left will be the hardest. I fight and I fight, but end up back at square one every time he returns to the UK.

When he is here I can't see a life unencumbered by my eating disorder.

Shop, shop, shop

2011-07-25T21:02:00.002+01:00

I genuinely cannot wait to move to Norwich. I had never been until earlier on today, but after walking around the place I am certain I shall love it once I am there and the anxiety of being in a new place wears off.

I love exploring new places. Of course, it's more fun when you have someone to share the experience with, but solitude has its merits too. I went to Cardiff in March 2010 by myself for an audition, and I took the opportunity, (as I was staying overnight to catch an early train home the next morning), to explore. Incidentally, it was that night in Cardiff that I definitively decided I was ready to get better from the ol' anorexia. I think it was seeing the ridiculous amount of diet Cherry Coke which I had hauled across the county on the desk in my room which brought it home. On my travels in the ma-hoo-sive shopping center they have there I had picked up a salad and a yoghurt, and that was what I ate all day. Fair enough, I wouldn't have liked eating out alone, but it did seem rather sad to be alone, in Wales, eating a salad.

Anyway, I digress. We explored. Norwich has many fabulous shops which I was longing to spend all my savings within. Mum had to stop me from spending an obscene amount of money in the Build-A-Bear shop... the bear I wanted was white with multi-coloured hearts all over and the sweetest thing ever.

The shopping in my local city, Lincoln, is I will admit, shockingly poor. We have some boutique-type places up Steep Hill, but as far as the high street goes, it is shocking.

Someone is going to have to stop me spending my student loan in Hotel Chocolat, that's all I'm saying.

Wishing for September

2011-07-22T22:23:00.000+01:00

It's going to be a long ol' summer. Tomorrow is the first day of the school holidays for my brother and most of the school children in Lincolnshire. I'm sure they are all ecstatic; six weeks of glorious freedom. I remember how excited I used to be, especially in primary school, because six weeks seemed like forever, endless days of playing outside on the trampoline and visiting friends' houses for tea. Birthday parties with bouncy castles.

Of course as I got older this novelty faded, and just like last year I find myself wishing for September. I finished college at the start of June, and found out my results nearly a month ago now. It's frustrating because I don't have anything to do. Last summer I was rehearsing for a play at this point: The Importance of Being Earnest with my local theatre company. I played Gwendolen Fairfax. Once that show was over with though I was just as bored and frustrated as I am now. It also didn't help that I had just split from a boyfriend. It was a seemingly pointless exsistence. I baked a lot, went on some dates, watched films with friends some evenings, made YouTube videos, but it there was no way that could span every day for six weeks.

Again, I foresee an entirely dull summer. Plans? Well, on Monday I am visiting Norwich with my mother because that's where I'll be moving to in September, and on Wednesday we are going to London because I want to see the mummies at the British Museum. I persuaded Mum to allow me to book a table at Inamo in Soho. It's am amazing restaurant by all accounts, and quite famous too. They have an interactive menu which is projected onto your table. The dining experience is designed to be as personal or impersonal as you like; you don't even have to interact with a waiter unless you choose to. I'm excited! No need to worry about them judging me when I order, plus you see a picture of what your food will look like in the plate, so I shall know EXACTLY what I am getting. It's like my dream restaurant. Pan-Asian.

After Wednesday, what then? I need 24456 million more plans than I do already.

Cynical

2011-07-21T14:22:00.000+01:00

Is it worth it?

I mean, if you are in a relationship with someone you are going to have to break up at some point. So why bother?

You have this person in your life every day for say, 6 months or a year, even longer, but then the time comes for you to cut them out completely. You have to cut them out and never speak to them again else it's too painful; bitterness and jealousy.

Never strike up a friendship with them after. That's crucial.

Graduation: Take 2

2011-07-20T22:37:00.000+01:00

Today I watched my mother graduate with a 2:1. In three years time this will be me with my degree, (although hopefully with a First!)

18 days to go

2011-07-19T12:37:00.000+01:00

I just managed to get the kitchen to myself for long enough to eat two pieces of toast. Ordinarily I don't stress at all about making or preparing food in the kitchen, but at the moment my father is home from his job abroad. This is day 3 of 21.

I asked my mother the other evening if she has ever actually spoken to him about my eating issues. She assured me that she had, which deeply puzzles me. If you know your daughter has anorexia, and you know she has nearly died more than once as a result, surely you would try, at least, to accommodate her needs? I don't demand a lot, just my own space to cook and eat. 10 minutes, that's all it takes most days. Enough to pour out some cereal and soya milk, or to make a round of toast. When Dad is here I always find a secluded corner to eat within. It's depressing and demoralising, but when he sees me eating he always stares at me, or rather laughs this stupid superior laugh to himself as if to say "ha, look at you. You're not an anorexic; there are calories in that you know".

"There are calories in that you know". He said that to me once a few years ago. I think I was about 15, right in the middle of my anorexic career. I think I was getting two scoops of mint ice cream because I hadn't eaten so far that day and I thought I deserved a small treat. He came into the kitchen, saw what I was doing and laughed at me. "What are you doing, Charlotte? There are calories in that you know".
He can't be all that right in the head because what sort of person laughs and their sick child? Oh, yeah, right, my father.

I think it makes him feel powerful to see me suffering. Would it be the ultimate power to see me dead perhaps? If I had a heart attack, or if I purged one time too many. You can die from purging; I read about it online once. Your esophagus ruptures... something like that.

I have 3 weeks of this to endure. My regular eating routine goes out the window. Inevitably I lose weight, and then of course I find myself in that trap again. Only a fellow anorexic would understand how hard it is, once you have lost some weight, to put it back on again, even if it's just a few kilos. It would be so very tempting just to carry on losing weight, after all, I am incredibly gifted at weight loss. I could drop a couple of stone like that and have my frail 'severely underweight' anorexic body back again.

I want to recover, but it seems so impossible when I have people fighting against me.

The fight against myself is hard enough.

:(

2011-07-17T23:31:00.000+01:00

Today I told the guy whom I am utterly devoted to how I feel, and he threw it back in my face.

He doesn't care about my feelings.

I care too much about him.

Intruders

2011-07-16T12:05:00.000+01:00

Do you find that no matter how supportive your family is ordinarily, when guests come to stay at your house any dispensation towards you and your eating disorder goes out the window?

Today my mum's cousin and her daughter are here. It shouldn't matter, but it does. I feel trapped, like I can't do as I please in my own home, which is totally wrong; if anyone should feel awkward it should be them.

It's incredibly stressful because I need to stick to my meal times else I get all out of sync and trigger myself into binging or restricting. I just want them to go so I can eat.

I have work later too which makes it even worse because I know I will need to be well fed else I will get faint-y. I don't want to have to leave work again because I haven't eaten properly earlier on in the day. I need the money.

These guests' happiness seems to have been prioritised over my health and recovery. Last time they were here my mum took my 'safe' weight watchers food and offered it to them. She took them all and arranged them neatly on a serving plate. Great for them, but it left me with nothing to eat in the whole house which wouldn't trigger me.

They arrived last night - good timing on my part because I left just before to see Harry Potter at the cinema. Me and my friend ate at Nando's before the film started at 20:30 so that wasn't an issue. I also arrived back home at around half 11 so everyone was in bed. This morning was different though. I knew they were planning on going out with my mum to visit my gran at her nursing home, so I stayed upstairs in my room until 10am when they had left. Quick as a flash I was in the kitchen pouring myself a bowl of Shreddies. I ate them, then retreated back upstairs because I don't know when they will be back, and wouldn't it be awful if they walked in on me eating? I would die.

Just go. Please.

I hope they leave really soon after they get back from visiting my gran. I must stick to my schedule.

FAQs - What do I wear on my lips?

2011-07-15T13:50:00.000+01:00

People always ask me what I am wearing on my lips. Along with pretty lingerie I think lip glosses are my second favourite thing to wear. (I will not be showing you my underwear collection, so don't even ask!)

You guys have been asking about these two most:

This is Maybelline Colour Sensational Cream Gloss in Red Love. I'm a fan of a red lip; I wear them a lot. This red is really nice for me because it suits my skin tone perfectly and is also quite sexy in my opinion. Personally I think this gloss is a bit like some of the Clinique lip glosses without the hefty price tag. (I also happen to be allergic to most Clinique lip glosses for some unbeknown reason.)

I'm probably wearing Benetint from Benefit Cosmetics underneath, one of my must haves. (Benefit and Clinique are my make up brands of choice).

These two were a bit of an impulse buy whilst browsing on Topshop.com. I'm really impressed with the quality of both the product and the actual packaging here and I'll definitely be buying more in the future.

The lipstick I am wearing is Lips in Show Off and the gloss over the top is Glaze in Bubblegum. I honestly can not fault the lipstick, however I find that the lip gloss is a little sticky no matter how sparingly you use it. It's a small price to pay though in my opinion.

Dailybooth

2011-07-13T18:19:00.000+01:00

So I joined a new social networking platform the other week, Dailybooth. It is a micro-blogging website, similar to Twitter, which you update daily with a photo.

It seemed like an interesting premise, and I'm always up for making new friends, so I created an account and began snapping.

Turns out it is a really superficial boring place. Is that why there aren't very many people from my usual demographic of online friends there? I feel like I should be snapping photos of myself posing provocatively in knee high socks in order to be welcomed into the community.

Who wants to be Dailybooth friends and buck the trend?*

*Knee high socks are not mandatory.

Twisted.

2011-07-11T23:51:00.000+01:00

I've never had much luck when it comes to maintaining relationships.

It is hard, of course, when you and you peers reach the age where you naturally want to spread your wings and explore the wider world. People disperse all over the country, forge new friendships and move on.

I honestly can not wait to do this. My eating disorder has disrupted my education a total of three times thus far, and I am elated at the prospect of going to university.

Apparently you meet the people you will remain good friends with for the rest of your life at uni. I certainly hope so; I feel like there is nothing and no one for me here.

Okay, maybe one thing. As excited as I am about the prospect of moving away, thinking about leaving that one thing tugs at my heartstrings, and I feel like I might vomit from the emotional pain it causes. It would be wrong though to continue just existing here for the sake of that one thing.

Twisted.

YouTube is my favourite

2011-07-09T02:10:00.002+01:00

When I film a video for YouTube I speak from the heart.

In the beginning I did this because I was naive. I had a single figure of subscribers, (who remembers my excitement at finally reaching the much coveted number of 10? ), and didn't think for a second that over a year later I would still be making my videos, not only for myself, but in partnership with YouTube. Telling my story and using my experiences to benefit others is honestly the most amazing thing I've done with my life this far. I'm glad I have something interesting to speak about, even if it is a little depressing at times.

I try to remain true to the very sick girl you welcomed into your community all those months ago. I feel I owe it to the people for whom I do this, and the people whom I owe everything. My subscribers mean the world to me; you all help me more than any counselor or doctor ever has.

Most people I care about watch my videos already, or are at least aware of my "hobby", for lack of a better word. However, there are a few who I am sure stumbled across by accident because I never told them.

It's not that I want to exclude this demographic of people, it's just that I didn't feel it necessary to tell them. Why should it matter anyway? It doesn't mean I like them any less.

I'm totally open about my eating issues now. When I began my second college course in September 2010 I decided I would tell anyone who asked about why I was spending my gap year studying for qualifications which I didn't need. The answer was of course that I had suffered with an eating disorder since the age of 11, and throughout my life it had robbed me of achieving my academic potential.

College had a wonderful support system readily available for me when I relapsed in 2009/ 2010. My mum was already paying for me to go privately to see an eating disorder counselor, but I was also regularly seeing a counselor through college for the last half of my second year in performing arts, as well as an eating disorder specialist who came to college every few weeks.

Hey! Who on ND2 remembers the sign which went up next to the main door in Knight's building? Hastily printed off on A4 paper: 'Struggling with food and eating? Blah, blah, blah...'. That appeared the same week one of the tutors inquired if I was okay and about my weight loss.

I suppose I feel like I should explain that I wasn't hiding anything from any of them, but for a start I thought my issues were obvious. Some people knew already of course, saw what was happening and used it against me, but others didn't quite know what to say to me I think. I'm sorry if I seemed insular and unapproachable, but perhaps they understand why that was: eating disorders consume you totally from the inside. I cared about nothing except losing weight. All my effort and every waking thought was fixated on my weight. I had no energy to participate in lessons. In those groggy lethargic moments still I would be mentally tallying up calories in my head, maybe getting really excited over having an extra rice cake for dinner later.

The one person who asked me what was "going on with [my] weight", I don't know if she kept that to herself or not, but honestly I don't mind either way now. I appreciate her taking the time to talk to me on Facebook chat more than she will ever know. I didn't feel so alone. I didn't feel like everyone in the building had taken a 'side' in some non-exsistant stand-off. People like to make things about themselves unfortunately.

9 years is a long time to be sick for.

I feel I should mention two people whilst I'm getting a bit soppy. My friend Paul, whom I know doesn't like to watch my videos and hear me speak so frankly about my eating problems, but still continues to talk to me and share my love of Harry Potter. I never feel like 'just the girl with the eating disorder' around him.

And Wil, you were the catalyst for me realising that I could have something to live for other than ever decreasing numbers on a scale. You saw something in me which I couldn't see for myself at the time.

I LOVE making my videos, and mark my words, as long as there is someone watching I'll keep going. It's really fun. :)

Dough balls make everything better

2011-07-05T14:36:00.000+01:00

I'm so sick today. I was meant to be having an amazingly excellent adventure with my friend Paul, but alas, I am feeling too awful to leave the house.

I met up with some work friends yesterday evening for alcohol, conversation and general merriment. I think the vodka has adversely reacted with my body because I have all the symptoms of a hangover coupled with the indication of some sort of disease of death.

Water is my friend today. And dough balls. Gotta love the dough balls.

Old YouTube videos

2011-07-04T01:48:00.002+01:00

I just un-privatised some of my old YouTube videos. I don't know what inspired me to make them private in the first place, but I was looking through and could think of no real reason why they should remain unseen.

Honestly, the ones where I am very ill do make me feel ashamed. Ashamed of my anorexic ways, and maybe the tinges of pro ana which colour my words. People no longer deserve the kind words which I say about them.

I also say some entirely pathetic things. I feel ridiculous for pining over that one boy back in late 2009/ early 2010. I didn't know any different. They were my true feelings at the time, even though now I look back and feel embarrassed that I even graced him with the time of day.

The videos are there, if you look for them.

402 calories / I hate Valentine's day is there. I gasped when I saw how thin I was back then. I would become even thinner in the following weeks.

Anorexia is tragic.

But recovery is amazing. It's balanced out now.

Adventures

2011-07-02T13:08:00.000+01:00

"She read about people she could never be, on adventures she would never have. Life was good enough until one day it wasn't. Chuck wanted more."

I really love this quote. It's from Pushing Daisies, the TV show. Although I never really watched it, (the novelty soon wore off and the premise was as sickly sweet as the pies in Ned's pie shop), this quote just speaks to me I suppose.

I do love to read, and I do love adventures. I wish I had the opportunity for more of them. I've mentioned before that I have very few friends who live in the same town as me nowadays: most have moved away to university, or simply just moved on with life. People are fickle; when I left Sixth Form gradually they all stopped talking to me, too wrapped up in their own lives to spare a thought for Charlotte who had to abandon education because anorexia was crippling her. But I'm so much better now.

I try to convince certain people to come on adventures for me, but they are old and boring and would much prefer to sit at home watching Hawaii 5-O in their pants.

You know what would be really fun? If we got up really early, like 3 am, and went to the beach. We could sit on the end of the pier and watch the sun come up. Adventures don't have to be expensive and you don't have to travel to a jungle or desert to have one. The beach is 25 minutes away but you're too boring, or maybe just too stubborn, to come with me.

Gutting.

One of my nicknames is Chuck as well.

Graduating and Starbucks

2011-06-30T21:50:00.000+01:00

Today a year of hard work finally paid off. I passed my college course with flying colours. Honestly, I have done better than I could ever have anticipated. My tutors would always tell me how I had the potential to achieve, yet I felt sure that I would end up disappointing them.

I think I am in the habit of playing down my own abilities, once I've got an idea in my head nothing will persuade me otherwise. That's one of my personal flaws- I am incredibly stubborn.

This headstrong nature of mine utterly convinced me that I was not going to achieve the very best grades in history. English literature, the other subject I take, is something I excel at naturally; in secondary school I was cited to be in the top 5% of the country ability wise. In fact my English tutor used to be a lecturer at Cambridge, has several Masters degrees to his name and a PhD. Honestly I am slightly in awe of the man. He is everything I would want to be in an academic: he has all these accolades to his name, yet he is remarkably down to earth. Very nearly the best I have had, and apparently he says that I am one of the best students he has had. This guy has lectured at Cambridge for Christ's sake!

Despite this, and despite consistently attaining at a distinction level I was still sure I was going to fall short. I was wrong. Even in history, I looked at my final two assignments today, (the two I felt sure were absolutely pants), and was in awe at that tiny 'D' written on both.

I speak about how amazed I was in the video below which I uploaded this afternoon.

I must admit it was with a little trepidation that I got in my mother's car this morning ready for the 25 minute drive to college. I was stressed because the white dress which I was planning on wearing, (you can see it hanging from my wardrobe in the background of the video), turned out to be see-through. No matter what underwear I put on I still had an awful VPL. Sexy.

I dug out a River Island dress which Mum had bought for me last week, checked it went with my accessories and was out the door.

Isn't it funny how often what you just throw on turns out to be a really lovely outfit?

I felt a little overdressed queuing outside the college building; it was sunny when I left my house, but in Lincoln it was grey and overcast. I had bare legs and I was wearing strappy sandle shoes. However once I was seated in my place next to my friend I looked around and realised my attire was just right. One lady seemed to be wearing an evening gown!

Unfortunately after the graduation ceremony we were expected to move to another room for 'refreshments'. I had forgotten about this. I'm not friendly with most of the people on my course and its variants, as I only spend time with those I have my lessons with. It was packed and everyone was eating canapes. I'm embarrassed to say I started sweating a little as I realised that I was surrounded by people eating, and it was only a matter of time before someone asked me why I didn't eat something. I hastily grabbed a glass of Pimms for something to do and found a corner to sit in with Mum.

She asked me if I was okay. I said I wanted to leave.

I think she felt a little bad for me because I was not chatting with my friends and enjoying myself, but walking back to the car in the rain.

I'm not an antisocial person; I love spending time with my friends, but I was spooked on this occasion. It's just a hurdle in my recovery process I think.

Mum took me to Starbucks on the way home. The man got my order wrong. I asked for a tall caramel coffee frappuccino without cream, but he gave me one with cream. I didn't want to make a fuss because I could always stop drinking before I got to the cream after all! I did tell him he got my order wrong though, just so he knew. He was really apologetic even though I assured him it was fine, and I was only pointing it out so he didn't do it again! He wouldn't leave it though, 2 minutes later he came to out table saying how sorry he was!

Mum, with a knowing smile, said that I need to stop being so dense and start paying attention to what's obvious to all but me.

He was quite hot I guess. (But I'm still in love with the other Starbucks man from Wednesday!)

"I'm a size zero, world!"

2011-06-28T18:40:00.002+01:00

This morning I owned what was perhaps the messiest bedroom in the whole of England. I'm not a naturally untidy person, in fact I am more than usually organised for someone of my age. The fact it that my room is relatively small, and I own a relatively large amount of stuff.

Shoes and clothes mostly, because after all, I don't have much else to spend my money on at this point in time; I live at home still (for the next 2 months anyway). And of course, I own double the amount of jeans, for example, than most simply because my dress size has fluctuated between an UK size 2 and a UK size 10 in the last few years. A size 2 here is equivalent to the infamous size 0 in the US.

I never did buy any size 2 jeans, partly because I struggled to source them, (I buy all my jeans from Topshop), and because I was actually embarrassed to be as skinny as I was. You would have assumed that as an anorexic I would have been shouting it from the roof tops: "I'm a size ZERO world, in your face everybody else"!

Personally, I was ecstatic to be that thin. I felt so very proud, but this was only something I experienced within my own home. Otherwise I was ashamed because people would double take, and men, rather than looking at me because I was attractive, were looking at me to exclaim to their friends how horrendous I looked.

That's why I never bought a zero.

The jeans that are too small for me have been long thrown away, but the larger ones, the size 10s and the larger size 8s I can't help but hold on to. Just in case. Just in case I put on weight again?

My natural frame is that of a tall, slim size 6 to 8. The only reason I gained that extra dress size or two was because I happened to spend just over a year of my life in a relationship with someone whose eating habits were incredibly unhealthy. I wanted to keep and his family him happy, so at meal times at theirs I ate pizza after pizza, take away after take away. I was also eating to combat my own emotions at that time, strange since for 7 years beforehand I had starved for the same effect, but inevitably I gained weight.

I didn't look bad though. My BMI was still on the lower side of normal. I was just too large for my own personal standards, and especially since my natural body weight was lower than what I was maintaining at. It stressed me out.

I lost that weight in November 2009. The split from my boyfriend triggered me into the worst period of my anorexia thus far. I lost a stone and a half in just over a month, and then the weight loss slowed. I worked harder and, although not at such a rate, the numbers on the scales decreased and decreased. My strongest desire was to have a BMI of 16, a desire which I achieved, yet it still wasn't enough.

It was a nightmare shopping for clothes; I pretty much lived in leggings during that period of my life. I think in a way I couldn't believe I was that thin.

Since starting my recovery in March 2010 there have been 'blips', where I've lost weight again. I remember one occasion in November, my then boyfriend had commented on how tiny I was. At home I measured my waist and hips, working out that despite wearing a larger size of jeans at that point, I had again lost enough weight to fit into a UK size 4... one away from a UK 2, (size 0).

That occasion truly amazed me because I honestly had not been trying to lose weight! It just happened! I realised that I had clearly under estimated how many calories my body needs just to function each day!

Now I think I have got it just right. I think I look good, personally! Thin enough for me to feel happy with myself, but other people don't think I look ill. Okay, so I admit my BMI is still 'underweight', but I don't have the lethargy, the chest palpitations, or hair that breaks off in my hands anymore. I've found a balance that works for me. I've been wearing size 8 jeans and size 6 or 8 tops for months now.

Being able to walk into a shop and know my size, and that it will fit me is better than striving to be skinner and skinnier any day. It's better for my bank account too.

I've maintained a steady weight for 10 months. For an anorexic of 9 years I think that's pretty good going.

I still hang onto those old pairs of jeans though.

Bi-weekly bitch-a-thon

2011-06-26T11:44:00.000+01:00

It doesn't matter how many messages of support I receive online. They do very little to detract from the hurtful abuse I am subjected to at home. Okay, so I may have made 1288 new friends through the medium of YouTube, but unfortunately they can't be there to defend me when my mother decides to have her bi-weekly bitch-a-thon.

I don't understand her duplicity. Sometimes we talk, and she feels bad, admits the guilt she feels, for how I am now going to be encumbered with this eating disorder, in one way or another, for the rest of my life. Ultimately the root cause lies with my home life and the events which I witnessed as a small child. Then there was my experience with secondary school; bullying, negligent teachers who, (despite knowing of my problems), demanded that as long as I was attaining at an A grade standard then my health didn't matter.

Mum calls me awful names. Today I am 'pathetic' and need to 'grow up'. Thanks for that. It's really helpful. I know she understands the severity of my eating disorder; anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness after all. I think I might be very lucky to have escaped before I became another statistic. Why does she feel the need to upset me? She takes out her own anger and stresses on me... maybe it makes her feel better to see me upset, or to see me revert back to my old ways. On the days which it happens I never hit my target amount of calories, and inevitably I lose weight. It takes such great mental strength from me not to just slip back into the habits of a lifetime.

I can't wait to move out in September.

My new shoes!

2011-06-23T00:20:00.000+01:00

Is it sad that I'm genuinely ecstatic about my new pair of shoes? Oh, but these aren't just any shoes, my loyal blog-readers, these are THE shoes I've wanted for weeks now.

The packaged arrived whilst I was in the middle of filming my latest video.

Now, ignore the ridiculous face I am pulling and let's concentrate on the shoes.

They are lovely. I very rarely buy 'nice' pumps because I tend to wear them to work and drive in them, which inevitably leaves them looking a little worse for wear after a few weeks. Nevertheless I decided to go ahead and purchase the ones above. These shoes will not be coming to work with me! I need nice shoes to prance about town in. They would look excellent with some dark denim jeans and a cute blazer, (another one of my obsessions).

They are an off white colour, with the main body of the shoe being a fake snake skin pattern and texture. The bow at the front is a grey-ish suede. Altogether they are beautiful.

Ah, such small things make me so happy! Everything should be this way. Take notice of the small things, then when you are sad you will know that it only takes something small... your favourite song on the radio, smiling at someone in the street, or indeed a new pair of, (utterly fabulous), new shoes to turn your day around.

A fresh start

2011-06-17T17:40:00.001+01:00

This is my second attempt at keeping a blog. Most of those reading this will know me from my YouTube channel, which I have been maintaining for a year and a half now. I make videos about eating disorders. Boring? Perhaps. But it's what I know about, the area I've had most experience in, and something which I am passionate about raising awareness of.

Perhaps it's shocking to those reading this who are not my usual demographic of viewer, real-life friends, for example, or even family, but yes, since I was 11 years old I have struggled with an eating disorder. It's been hard, even horrific at times, but I feel now, after 9 arduous years of fighting, that I am finally on the road to recovery once and for all.

I believe an eating disorder should not define me; I am not the girl with anorexia, but Charlotte, who is happy, healthy, and most of all enjoying life. That is why I first turned on my web cam that day in February 2010, and it is the best decision I have ever made. I actually help people. I'm not sure how, or why, but all feedback suggests I do, and there is nothing more affirming than knowing that.

This is my blog. My new blog. I'm not sure what to post about here. Suggestions are more than welcome!

Of course I shall continue spamming your subscription box on YouTube for as long as you'll have me.

Thank you for your continued support, and for taking the time to look at my little corner of Blog Spot.