I've just got to work what I'm going to say.

I don't think I can be with someone who has a drinking problem. I'm talking about my boyfriend Prince Charming.

I've been thinking about it for a while now. He'd been off alcohol for 10 weeks and however great our relationship has been while he was sober, I always worried that once he went back to alcohol, it probably wouldn't work. He decided to go back to alcohol tonight during his guys' night in (which we had previously discussed, and we agreed he should have a maximum of 2 beers, which is already a lot after 10 weeks of sobering up from a drinking problem).

But when I spoke to him on the phone just now (I wanted kind words after that tear-jerker of a film - see previous post!) - his words were slurred, he expressed himself strangely, and I knew that second he was tipsy. He'd had 3 beers. It might not seem like a lot to you, but I know my boyfriend, and even though he doesn't now recognise his issue with booze, it's been as plain as day to me for the past year and a half of our relationship, that he has a drinking problem. That things could end in tears.

He can't say 'No' to another. And I don't think he'll ever be able to. We talk about future plans, about our lives together, even about silly marriages. Most of the time, I really honestly thought that he was The One. I've just been really naive. This ugly thing has been staring me right in the face for so long, screaming 'Get out while you still can!!!' but I was CONVINCED that a man with a drinking problem can change for the better. Well, not gonna happen. Is that what I really want for my life? And to be so worried about his drinking all the time? No, definitely not. It wouldn't be fair to me, nor to him.

God I knew it was too good to be true. Is every guy going to have these issues? I know I have my issues but I recognise them and WANT to change them. Men are childish. I feel a mixture of pain and numbness (weeeeird), and my shoulders are shaking. I cried for one second. Now I feel perfectly calm. Even though I hurt and I'm numb.

I've just got to work what I'm going to say.

EDIT 01:28am: OH THE IRONY! so because of my boyfriends drinking problem, and because Im basically gonna break up with the man i love, i couldnt sleep so i was like OK LETS HAVE A DRINK MAYBE THATLL HELP and a bottle of wine later now im FUCKING DRUNK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH OH THE IRONY. MAYBE its for the best we#re breaking up, everyones screwed up arent they

I should stop watching.

As promised, I write again! While bawling my eyes out. Because I'm watching 'The Time Traveller's Wife'. And it's so saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! If you haven't, read the book, then watch the film, they are both amazing. Just arm yourselves with tissues beforehand. Because otherwise, your face will be covered in snot.

I'm sure you're all dying to know how my new job is going. It's. FRIGGING. AWESOME.

Well, truth is, it's not much of a job at the moment because it's been full of inductions and courses for my professional qualification for the first three weeks. My fellow graduates and I get on well, it's like we've known each other for years, and you can 100% feel the team spirit. Most of them are guys (our group has 20 guys, 10 girls), and in the 'corporate world', you really have to impose yourself among men if you're a woman. But hey, because I'm amazing and sexy and intelligent and so frigging wonderful in general, I've found that leadership actually has come quite naturally to me. I've had some really great feedback from everyone including senior managers and directors that I've stood out as a determined yet approachable leader with real consideration for team-mates. YEAH I'M AWESOME. Prince says I'm a bossy boots. I'm not. But we all knew I was awesome already. In any case, inductions are now over. This week, the real work starts though.

So yeah. My job is great, I get a ton of dosh this week that I can splash on really important things like handbags, shoes and holidays, I've met some cool people, I feel good. BUT OH EM GEE I AM SO TIRED!!! Like seriously. I leave the house at 7.30am and get home at 8.30pm. And I obviously have to go to the gym too because otherwise I turn into a fat cucumber on legs. 

 Do NOT diss my Photoshop skills. They are incredible.

(Jeez it looks creepy)

(OMG OMG the end of the film is coming, and I know exactly what's going to happen, so I've started bawling my eyes out. I WANT PRINCE CHARMING TO GIVE ME SNUGGLES!!!!!!) 

In terms of puke-age, ugh I hate to say so guys but... I've did it about 20mins ago. I was feeling a bit rubbish and stressed, so I ate a ton of pasta and then chocolate. GAHHH! I need to work on it.

JEEZ I CAN'T STOP CRYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I should stop watching.

I know you love me.

So... brief entry as I'm knackered from work. My stepdad told me this evening he wants to move out, ergo leaving my mum because he's depressed. Pretty life-changing stuff to be honest. Is my family going to break up again?

I feel like punching through a wall and crying but I can't even cry, and there's no one I can talk about it to. No one. It seems like everyone's too busy to listen right now.

Gosh what's happened to me??? I've gone all emo all of a sudden! Expect real Smiley Princess life accounts, Smiley Princess style soon. I know you love me.

Four days until real life starts

When I grow up, I will have no eyebrows. No, I don't mean it in the Kindergarten adage of 'When I grow up, I want to be this, ie. to have no eyebrows and look like a demented Mona Lisa.' Are you crazy? I mean: I ACTUALLY WILL have no eyebrows, and there's nothing I can do about it. You know how Dads tell their sons, 'Check out your girlfriend's mum (and her boobs, and butt, and hips etc), because that's what you'll end up with.' Well, I've recently realised that I will have no eyebrows because of my mum. 

I've often seen her without make-up and I did notice she looks a bit like this:

And I always knew there was something wrong with her face that I couldn't quite pinpoint. But then it hit me: she has no eyebrows! She has to DRAW them with liner. Well yeah OK, she does have a bit of eyebrow but the top of her eyes is like a 10 year-old boy's pubic hair. (ewww I can't believe I just said that. I do NOT 'like' little boys if that's what you're thinking). Right now, I have sexy, arched eyebrows that a lot of girls envy (quite rightly too, you should all want to look like me after all, me being the embodiment of sexualness and all that). But what about in 10 years' time, when I'm like 85 and senile and have rheumatism and have 10 cats called Kirby that I feed cough sweets to???? (Wait, that doesn't work, I'm 23. I've just confused myself.)

In other news, you know I've had the flu for a few days. Well, I'm still ill. What is wrong with my metabolism? I have been bored OUT OF MY BUM doing absolutely zero and watching Revenge on my laptop (OMG I can't get enough of it. And Josh Bowman - need I say more?), when I should really be preparing my new life that starts on Monday with my brand new corporate job. But if you've read my blog until now, you'll probably have guessed by now that Putting Off Things is my specialty. 

 Why, hello there, Josh Bowman.

I don't even know why they gave me the job. Hell, I don't even know why they'd want to be in the same BUILDING as me (other than the fact I ooze sex appeal, wit and charisma, of course). Out of 5,000 international applicants, they could've chosen anyone. Yet they settled on me, the decrepit bum who talks crap. OK I should give myself a bit more credit, seeing as I am super brainy, and confident, and outgoing, and street-smart, and business-savvy but GAAAAAAAAAH SO MUCH PRESSURE! I DON'T WANT TO START MY NEW JOB!!!!!! Just let me curl up under my duvet with my two teddy bears and watch videos of cats on Youtube while eating Maltesers!!! I knew I should've stuck more spinach in my teeth during the interviews, this clearly didn't put them off enough:

With regards to My Fitness Pal, Prince Charming and I had a serious chat on Friday evening, and I've now OFFICIALLY deleted the app off my phone. Whehay! It was ruining my life. I do NOT want to be anorexic and look like Dobby the House Elf again. The issue with that, however, is that I have started eating crap again. Or is it because the mucus in my nose makes me sound and look like Darth Vader all of a sudden, and thus comfort-eating becomes inevitable? I don't know, why are you asking me that? Pfff. I guess I will try to eat a bit of salad and veg tonight, with my chocolate and ice cream. 

Other than that, I will continue to panic about my new job like a headless chicken and do nothing for the next few days. Which is obviously hugely constructive. Ooh that reminds me, I need a haircut before Monday. My hair is like 10ft long at the moment. I look like a hot Cousin Itt from the Addams Family. And I SHOULD go on a serious shopping spree to get new blazers and skirts and shoes. Except I am ill. And lazy. And have no money. Ah well. At least I get quite a lot of dosh for my new job. Four days until real life starts.

Stare at this photo until I get back

I am in bed with the flu. You won't hear from me for a few days because all I want/can do is curl up in bed and feel sorry for myself.

In the meantime, stare at this photo until I get back.

That would not be cool

As I write this, I am on Skype with Prince Charming. He is making me 'stay with him' instead of going to the bathroom and making myself sick. I feel full, not in the good way. I have this overwhelming urge to empty my stomach of its lunch right now.

So how did this happen? I was doing awesomely well! How could Smiley Princess (who is the reincarnation of Wonder Woman, Xena and Lara Croft put together, forming the embodiment of kickassness, ie me. Wait. They're all fictional. DAMMIT I guess the reincarnation thing doesn't work) have come to this after almost a week of not binging nor purging?

Well. My Fitness Pal is seriously starting to get to me. I've become a calorie-control-freak for the past few days. I now frigging measure tablespoons of Balsamic vinegar and weigh pieces of lettuce to enter their calorie content. SERIOUSLY, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I feel trapped. Don't get me wrong, the feeling of having lost weight and seeing what minerals/nutrients I eat is AMAZING, and when I stick to my strict/healthy food and exercise routine, I am content. I don't binge nor stick my head down the loo. So when something like temptation somehow disrupts my routine, I feel miserable, tormented and at a loss. Indeed, today, my GRAZE box arrived.

For those of you who aren't as clever as me and don't know what Graze is, it's a service that delivers a weekly box of four 'healthy' snacks to your door. The service is awesome and to be honest, considering postage is free, it's a pretty good deal. You can even customise the foods you receive by telling them what sort of stuff you like, what health level you want the snacks to be etc. BUT! It disrupted my routine because the foods look so yummy, and I have the biggest sweet tooth EVER (gross, just gave myself a mental image of me as a Haribo-chomping saber-toothed tiger). 

So after my super healthy, low-calorie lunch, I sat  myself in front of Vampire Diaries (JEREMY GILBERT - need I say more? Also I am skiving a lot of obligations today under the pretext I am SUPER ILL and GOING TO DIE. Does man flu apply to girls? I did go to the gym though, which probably made it worse). Being ill is unlike my usual schedule when I am usually out and about, so I felt a strange sense of unease and boredom. Then I remembered the Graze box. So I ate three of the snacks, while tormented by anguish.

I now feel like the guy from Supersize Me. Sick and fat. Even though I've eaten a grand total of only 900kcal today, which SHOULD be normal right? Well, My Fitness Pal says I should eat a net daily 1200kcal to lose weight, therefore what I've done, my brain thinks, is unacceptable. So I've gone into panic/guilt overdrive. GAHHHH. I started walking upstairs in order to gurgitate in reverse motion (eww inappropriate metaphor) but quickly texted Prince before reaching the loo - he immediately called me back and told me NOT TO PUKE, to get on Skype now and to write my blog. Well... I suppose I KIND OF have to agree with you all that Prince Charming is a pretty amazing boyfriend. I still feel the torment, trying to resist going up to the bathroom but at least, I'm still here.

In other news, thank you all so much for all the advice and feedback I got for my previous entry Seriously, what would you do? It was interesting to read your different accounts and the ways in which you've dealt with similar situations. Prince Charming came over last night and we had a serious chat about his Thing. (NOOOOOOO, not THAT thing, you dirty-minded freaks!!! I mean His Thiiiiiing! Just read the previous entry for a refresher, dammit). It turns out he had read my blog entry before I could mention it to him, for which I felt very very awkward, and also because he feels a bit embarrassed at having been pictured in such a way to his/my fans. He hopes you still all love him! In any case, I think he saw what I was getting at, which is reassuring. We both agreed that drinking is a symptom of something he has been feeling, and that it's the FEELING that needs to be tackled before even considering going back to the sauce. Words cannot express how thankful I am that he is going to try. He and I need to help each other. Aah, so much sentimentality!

I just really need to sort out what I'm going to do with the whole My Fitness Pal thing. The biggest part of me doesn't want to let it go, which really worries Prince Charming. But I also know it completely goes against my recovery stance. I don't want to be anorexic again. That would not be cool.

Seriously, what would you do?

Ahhh. My Fitness Pal. The word Pal makes him sound like my BFF, even more so than my friend Bob the Tarantula (whom I perhaps killed by feeding him salt), when in fact, he's making me feel like a dog who is bursting for a piss and has to choose between his walkies and a lifetime supply of Pedigree. PANIC. (Though if I were the dog, I'd piss all over the living room carpet, take a giant crap on my master's bed AND get the Pedigree. No need for walkies, see?)

Some of my readers commented on my previous article Brain cannot compute dirty plate by sink that these calorie-counting apps actually create obsession and OCD-like control, which is totally true. You end up measuring everything, counting numbers in your head, gauging, measuring, etc. And today, I did something I haven't done since I was 17, anorexic and weighed 95lbs... I FRIGGING WEIGHED LETTUCE ON THE KITCHEN SCALES. What the hell is wrong with me ???? And the weird thing is, when I did my total calorie count for the day after dinner, I felt GOOD because I am 6kcal under my recommended net intake. The good thing, I didn't binge nor purged and ate pretty healthily all day. But I really hope I don't turn anorexic again because not only does that make me feel like an un-flushed poo stinking out the ladies' room (don't ask where I get these similes from, I have no idea, that's what geniuses are like), I am also seriously unattractive when I weigh 95lbs (droopy eyes, sallow skin, sunken cheeks, boney legs, and worst of all NO BOOBS. I basically look like Dobby the House Elf. Except worse).

 OK, maybe not THAT bad.

Ironically, I'm finding it a bit difficult to fall asleep at night now, even though I can't help but wake up at 7am for no apparent reason other than 'Oh I have to go work dammit' (which I didn't really do before). Indeed, I SHOULD be flabbergasterdly (wtf, where do I get these words from?) exhausted from having eaten less than I usually do, and burnt off half my body weight at the gym that day. The main reason is that (please don't laugh) (seriously, please don't laugh or I will sear your eyebrows off using psychic abilities I don't possess)... I am scared of zombies. And ghosts. And monsters. And that guy from Saw. And just about every single scary supernatural/psychopathic creature known to man. That is because for the past week or so, I've been playing these zombie horror video games called Amnesia: The Dark Descent and The Walking Dead which are SO GOOD but so DAMN SCARY (contrary to minor belief, I am not a nerd) !!! Now tell me you've NEVER been scared of the Dementor under your bed. I bet EVERYONE has had these fears. The difference with me is that I am fully-grown, 123lb, 23 year-old woman, and people think I'm bonkers (they're jealous of how awesome I am. Plus every genius gets called 'bonkers' at some point).

 Aww I actually feel for this guy. 

No wonder he looks so unhappy, he's not wearing any foundation.

In other news, I am ANGRY and mainly SAD and FRUSTRATED (and this has nothing to do with food/sex, you filthy-minded buggers). My so-called best friend Snow White, I recently realised, has been taking me for granted for the past 3 years. I'm sure you have them, those friends you'd do anything for to make them happy, or travel 1h30 across London to go see them because they're 'tired' (every. single. time.), for whom you'd cancel all your plans because they're a bit depressed, for whom you'd bring a tub of ice cream and Ghost on DVD because some guy they liked turned them down. And who do NOTHING in return, who cancel on your all the time when you want to see them, who don't listen to you or only perfunctorily do so, who never turn up to any party or dinner you throw, who forget your birthday and cancel on you at the last minute on the day of the party because of some other friend. Well Snow White is that exactly. And the frustrating part is, I am able to rant about it for a gazillion hours, but don't even have the guts to tell her I think she's a selfish toilet seat (what is it with me and toilet metaphors today???). Ugh. *reaches for teddy bear and puts Vampire Diaries on because Jeremy is so frigging fit. Seriously how is it possible for a 16 year-old to look that good?*

I mean, seriously. Just look at him.

Other than that, something has been bugging me for a while (see final paragraphs of my article entitled I NEED TO STOP LYING TO MYSELF). Prince Charming has a problem with Something (much like with me and peanut butter chocolate cupcakes I suppose?), and for the past couple of months, has managed to stay off It. I cannot tell you how proud I am of him, and incredibly relieved - to be honest, I find it inspirational that he has been dealing with it, whilst I have sat there stuffing my face with Strawberry Cornettos (I only eat them for the chocolate bit at the end), being like 'Yeah, it's fine, it's good. NOM NOM NOM.' (Although I am seeking treatment and have managed to stave off the binging and purging since Sunday. 'WOOH GO SMILEY PRINCESS!,' I hear you say. No? Erm... anyone? Oh ok.) ANYWAY. The point is, since I started going out with him a year and a bit ago, I saw how... 'unusual' his behaviour with It is, and it often frightened me, though I didn't really comment (except one evening where he scared the bejeesus out of me and we almost broke up. Don't worry, he has never ever shown any violence. I would kick him in the butt if he tried, like that girl from Kill Bill).

LOLwut ? Just found this on Google Images. 

Because it is beneath my high level of intelligence, I cannot comprehend the joke.
 

As his Princess, I can see the detrimental effect It has had on him and on his surroundings and on our relationship. I'm not going to lie that I did wonder a few times (despite how sexy/wonderful he is) whether I would be able to deal with his Excesses in the long-run in our relationship. I think this could even break our relationship.

Anyway, let me get to the point. A couple of weeks ago, he told me that he would be staying off It a bit longer, perhaps two, three more months, he wasn't sure, until he could figure out how to handle it correctly. I was again proud of him for seeing the problem and taking a mature approach toward it, realising that it wouldn't be an overnight recovery - it would take time, lots of time, possibly years. Though I did think he needed proper Help, I didn't really mention it. But last week, he informed me he would only be staying off It until the end of February, as opposed to at least March or April. That's a total of only 6 weeks off It. Which shocked my boobs off (not literally, because I would look like a penis if that actually happened). He then said he would like to take a 'balanced approach' toward It.

'A balanced approach' is fair enough... for a person WITHOUT the Problem. However, when you have such a Problem built up over years and years of practice, you can't just sweep it aside in 6 weeks and then try 'a balanced approach', hoping for the best. It doesn't work like that. I know because I am trying to cure my eons-old eating disorder. It takes A LOT of time, help, support and reflection. He tells me to trust him and I TRUST his intentions, I really do. But in practice, I don't buy it, it upsets me. I'm not sure he truly recognises the problem; it seems he's determined to deal with it alone, which, when you're in relationship is pretty crappy. He even goes on to say that on the scale of things, he's not as bad as others - and that, to me, is denial. 

Everything he says, I've also said before, so I can observe a pattern. I've relapsed again and again and again, despite my promises that I would be 'balanced'. Only recently, when I openly admitted to myself, to him, to doctors that I am a Compulsive Over-Eating Bulimic have I realised it will take years, decades, a lifetime to gain a 'healthy' approach to food, probably even never, like most bulimics. That is why I am determined to go into treatment anyway. I wish Prince could see that recovery is BLOODY FRIGGING HARD, that when he says '6 weeks is enough, I promise it's different this time', I want to slap him and say 'Bullsh*t. You need Help.'

I just don't know what to do because I know the worst thing would be to push him into recovery/quitting if he's not ready. You can't make someone recover, that's impossible. It only works when they are READY, that is when they truly accept that they're in deeper trouble than they've ever thought, and WANT to change. It scares me because I'm not sure how I would handle seeing him tipsy or drunk again; I'm scared it's going to push me away. I don't know what to do, or say. All I express to him, when the subject is brought up, is a sense of panic, and we all know how helpful THAT is. You've probably now guessed what It is.

Seriously, what would you do?