Holy crap, guys. I've got bruises everywhere. Both my hipbones (2 on each), one of my knees (3), the front of both sides of my ribs, and one just above that knobby bone in my wrist. [Of all the random places to get bruises...] Yeah. I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, other than that I've gotten thinner. Does it mean... anemia? Lack of calcium? General weakness? What? I seriously don't know. Does anyone have any idea?

I ate 1350 cals yesterday and was disgusted with myself when I added it up. If I had just omitted the freaking two-bite brownies I'd have been down nearly 400 cals. Lesson learned: No more two-bite brownies, no matter how loudly they scream your name from your friend's living room table. They're full of fat anyway -- 22g for the four that I ate. I mean, come on. Eww. :|

My therapist diagnosed me with AN Type II, but I still don't believe her. Even though I've lost 17.6% of my body weight since I've been seeing her (minimum for diagnosis is, as we all know, 15%). Even though I've lost almost twice that percentage since this whole screwy eating disorder thing began. I still think I'm EDNOS. I'm "not skinny enough" or "good enough" for anorexia. Good enough! Since when was anorexia a good thing?! I don't know. My brain is just irritatingly inane sometimes.

Plus, that anal-retentive part of me is screaming, "You can't be anorexic till you have a BMI of 17.5!" Which is common jargon, but is not entirely true. The criteria is 15% of normal body weight. Which can be up to a BMI of 24.9. So what it means is that your body was of normal weight before, but you've lost at least 15% of that weight. It doesn't strictly mean "BMI of 17.5", although I'd argue that if you achieve a weight loss BMI of 17.5 you're probably anoretic anyway... but that's beside the point.

The point is, I have a diagnosis -- a true one, possibly -- and yet my brain can't accept it as being true. This? This isn't anorexia. Never was. Won't be unless I'm so skinny you can see all my bones without need for stretching. That's how I keep thinking of this. My brain has distorted almost beyond belief at this point. Nothing those doctors say is true. There's nothing wrong with me. I do eat normally. Didn't I eat 1350 cals yesterday and not puke? I'm normal I'm normal I'm normal.

But am I really? Am I? I can't clearly see the answer for myself, and it drives me batshit crazy. I take more and more drastic, and dangerous, methods to assure myself that I still have an eating disorder. The whole thing is fucking insane. Insanity. I am a crazy person. Nutcase. Need to be locked in a mental ward for life. I don't know. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh. :(