I had actually written some things a few weeks ago and again last week, but not posted them until now.
Monday, 4th July
Oh, several things:
Tom had given me a card, which I opened early on my birthday. Maybe he doesn’t have much practice writing cards, as it was very similar to the card I wrote him on his birthday. But it was extremely sweet and made me very happy. It said: ‘Dear Alienor, I wish you all the best for your 31st birthday. You are a wonderful person and I am so glad we found each other. You are the sunshine in my life. I love you with all my heart, my darling. See you soon, Tom’ There was another surprise in the mailbox: a birthday card from Tom’s mother and sister. It was really sweet and touching to think that they went to all this trouble, finding out my address and birthday. Tom didn’t know about it and said it must have been his sister looking me up on Facebook. Oh yes: I had sent Tom a friendship request a few days before, without ever talking about it since my last post.
I was very busy all the weekend, cooking, baking, doing housework and training. I was happy and felt good with myself and was looking forward to seeing Tom very much. He came earlier than last week, and brought me two small pieces of cake and two marzipan kittens. We went to the church terrace, watching a flying show over the lake which was very boring, and then cooked and ate dinner and the cake. Tom gave me my birthday present, which was a voucher for part of my new phone. (My parents gave me the other part). He said it wasn’t a very romantic gift, but I prefer something I can actually use, and we also don’t have the same taste. He had gone to look for something else, so it wasn’t that he hadn’t put any thought into it, the phone was just something he knew I wanted. He also said he unfortunately couldn’t give me anything nearly as wonderful as what I had given him. I smiled smugly. That idea had really turned out well (I had ‘given’ Tom my very first kiss on his birthday). Any gift after that would be less spectacular.
On Sunday night, after dinner and kissing etc. and watching a bit of football, we talked about many things. About slow dancing as children, playing kissing games. Tom doesn’t count those short pecks on the lips as first kisses. I would have, but never played. I WANTED to play, I wanted to dance, I had vivid fantasies and thought up stories of other girls and boys doing those things, even at that age. But I refused to take part, in a stubborn denial of my wishes and desires, feeling even then that they were wrong, shameful, and that those things were ‘not for me’, that I did somehow not deserve them. As I remembered that, I mused about where those ideas came from. But I’m glad now that I waited, that I remained utterly untouched until my first kiss with Tom. It makes it so much more special and pure. We agreed that we both need more time to relax in intimate situations, and Tom said we didn’t have to hurry. I find it reassuring that he seems to want to stay with me for a long time.
Wednesday, 6th July
I feel horrible right now. I desperately want something, but can’t tell what it is. I absolutely don’t want to go to ballet class, and I have already skipped the last two nights. It just feels as if I could not deal with the pressure I put on myself in ballet, the way I judge myself and hate my size. Maybe I will go on a run. I want to feel good and ecstatic, but also want to hide and sleep. It’s up and down, all day, and I feel out of control. I hate this and don’t know what is happening, and I fear scaring Tom away like this.
Last night night, we looked at Facebook together, where we had officially published that we are in a relationship with each other. Many of his friends ‘liked’ it, even some he had once been attracted to. Tom showed me his photos from a picnic they had had together a few years ago. His friends are all thinner than I am, and two are really pretty.
Tom is out with one of them right now, ‘the Imp’, as he calls her. She is very short, has red hair, a pretty face, many tattoos, a lot of experience with men, and does pole dance. He says she will only talk about herself and bore him, and he doesn’t want to stay too long. Nevertheless, I feel jealous. I imagine Tom spending time with her, a woman with experience, confidence, sexy vibes and no weird issues like me. I imagine him comparing us, and her winning. Yes, I may have more depth and a deep understanding and a girlish side that Tom likes, yes, he may want to wear my ring and bring me to meet his mother and plan for next summer, but I still imagine him falling in love with her. Or kissing her, or more, even if it is just once. I know Tom isn’t the bold type and this is out of character, as far as I know him. But my mind still gives me images… Like a film, some drama. I am not suffering or anything. Who knows, maybe a small part of me would even want something like that, to have to fight for him, to pine, to suffer? There is energy in a strong desire or unfulfilled wish. I love that energy. Strange, I know.
I am just strange these last few days. My needs, wishes, ideals and goals are in uproar, always switching places. I feel very unsettled.
Monday, 18th July
It’s Monday now and I binged three times this weekend, then didn’t eat all day yesterday. All my weight loss from last week, all my confidence and hope and strength are gone and I am once more in despair. It seems that I am doomed to remain fat and either go back and forth between binging and dieting, or just eat out of control and gain who knows how much more weight. I just can’t live like this, honestly. I feel so ugly and worthless and disgusting, and so ashamed in front of Tom, and in public. Ballet class is spent hating my body now, and even running makes me think more of my wobbly flesh than anything else, as soon as I am visible. I hate every woman who has a normal body weight or normal skin, or even larger women who just consistently eat a little more without an eating disorder. I want to go home and go to bed and sleep and sleep and never have to be seen again. I was so thin once, at least for me, and so happy about it, so passionate and hopeful about ballet and exercise, and now? Everything seems empty, just false happiness, futile chasing of ‘highs’. Others are living their life, it seems, and I am stuck here. Tom is suffering, seeing me hate myself, and when I feel better and we have good times, it never lasts. I want to tell him how I am, and at the same time keep everything from him. He deserves a happier, stronger, more beautiful partner than me.
Last night we went to the circus, holding hands, kissing now and again in public, and whenever I saw a reflection of us, I cringed. I am so much larger than he, with his slender waist and fine legs. I feel ashamed again to eat in front of him. I just can’t see how he can love me!