Ooh exciting things are happening.

I predict that my blog is going to be very up and down if I make a post every time I am enthusiastic/ apprehensive about this trip.

However, I'm going to do it anyway, mark my words.

The other girl who is going to Exeter and I have been getting along really well. We only have really talked over facebook since the one time we met, but we've made plans to fly to London together, travel London together and then move on down to Exeter for the beginning of term, where we will be living in the same flat at the same accommodation.

We've definitely grabbed hold of each other and decided to be best friends. It's a bit awkward because at the same time we're both like 'don't feel pressured!' and ' I don't want to be pushy, but if you'd like to--" type thing because while I believe that we are both on the same page, it's tricky to compromise and communicate effectively with someone you don't really know, but you expect to be friends with in the future, purely due to proximity and convenience.

I'd love it if we really do end up being good friends. It's been a long time since I made a new, close friend and she seems really lovely. She's very pretty, which makes me nervous because I always thing that skinny, pretty girls are all just popular and think they're too good for me and that doesn't mesh with my psyche well because half of me is like 'but she is too good, she could do better and we won't match' and then the other is like 'fuck you very much, she'd be just as lucky to have me as a friend as I would to be hers' and then I get this weird complex of resentment and inferiority.

I'm exaggerating. Mostly.

But she knows what she is doing and likes Harry Potter and is a little bit shy too so I think we will get on really well. Hopefully. We could end up hating each other but for now, we're travelling together for about two weeks by ourselves so I think us getting on well is pretty important.

It'll just be a matter of working out what her expectations are and making sure I pull my weight, and when we travel, making sure that I do get to be myself and do the things I want to, as well as what she wants to. But I think we're both going to be pretty laid back and willing to compromise and I think that's one of the most important things.

Ooh I am excited. Booking flights tomorrow hopefully.

I'm really nervous for exchange.

I wasn't before, I was really chill and my attitude was 'it'll be fine, I'm adaptable and can pass as socially adequate. I'll be improving myself and it'll be an amazing experience and what could go wrong?

I knew a lot could go wrong.

But it was much more fun (and helpful) to think about the positives.

It's getting closer now however, and I am becoming apprehensive. There has been one or two quick fantasies of calling the whole thing off. I won't of course. Pride certainly wouldn't allow me to do that, and I wouldn't want it to. I do things outside my comfort zone because it almost always works out well for me and this is such an amazing opportunity and in such a large family, it's satisfying to be doing something none of my cousins have done (especially considering I am doing the degrees of two of my cousins already and coveting a third).

This isn't something my family expects of me either. Not that they'd put me down but they know me as the shy one, who read too much and had too few friends and never as the outgoing child. To the best of my ability, this is me being outgoing.

I want to do this, because it's a) very adult, and I am almost 20. When I leave I'll have turned 20 which is exciting. I've been looking forward to leaving my teenage years ever since you-know-who, because I wanted to be able to dismiss that whole series of events from that point forward as completely irrelevant- "I was a teenager then!" I also want to prove myself as competent, being able to cook and tidy up after myself and do my laundry and make travel plans. Independence is a big deal for me, because I have relied my entire life on the people around me. I have always preferred being looked after to looking after. However, that is a childish attitude that I want to shed. I think it's healthy to take responsibility for yourself, your actions and your decisions. If things go wrong, or the consequences of something I do are heavy, I have to take that on board and deal with it myself. I'm not saying I'll be Atlas, but, in the infinite wisdom of Tyra Banks, "Take responsibility fo' yo'self."

My anxiety stems almost entirely from this though. I love my Mum and Mia and my friends and family. I like my room and I like knowing where I live and how to get places. I like my car. I like having a bucket load of support systems around and I think it's natural to fear losing it. I am scared of culture shock, of not making friends, of crying myself to sleep and being lonely and scared and missing everyone desperately.

I don't want to quit and come home after 2 weeks because I can't hack it out there. I don't want everything to go wrong and I don't want to be caught with a boogie board bag full of drugs ala Shapelle Corby. I certainly don't want to be a murdered girl, travelling Europe alone and never being heard from again. I don't want to fail my classes or have University life not live up to my expectations. I don't think they're unrealistic, but I don't want to be miserable and not be able to travel weekends and not enjoy myself.

Very soon I am going to have to start to make firm, set-in-stone decisions and that is scary to me. Very much so. Visa applications is going to be the most major pain in the ass stress and accomodation is going to be the most terrifying because if I get that wrong, that'll determine who I meet, if I make friends, if I meet people that want to travel with me, if I meet hot guys, basically, if my exchange is successful or not. And since I can't live on campus and I don't want a full year lease, I'm basically going to be haggling and emailing, modifying a regular lease in order to have somewhere to live, so that's, you know, great. Because we all know that communication and bargaining are my greatest skillset.

Not.

I'm not losing weight as well as I'd hoped, I got a bit discouraged and put on weight this week, and then to celebrate that, of course I ate everything. And that just feels normal to me, because my relationship with food is legitimately that fucked up that a binge is just, yeah, I do that.

Even knowing full well that'll just make everything harder later and make the exact problem and struggle that triggered the binge worse, I still do it. I get it in my head that eating healthy is no way to live, and that it sucks and that I'm missing out. It's so fucking crazy that I don't understand moderation. I just give in, give in, give in to temptation, every time.

Do you know how sick the idea of photos of me standing in front of the Eiffel Tower sounds, when I look like an ugly elephant? It makes me feel ill and want to throw up and makes me think what is the point, and not want to take any photos at all or that I'll look back at those photos in 20 years and just regret that I couldn't have self control for a few fucking months.

It's just everything, all the little things I can't handle. Big things, big concepts, yeah, throw it on me, travel Europe, go backpacking, sounds great. But, book a flight, work out home much baggage is allowed, get to the airport by public transport and talk to someone at the desk at a hostel and pluck up the courage to ask the question I desperately need to know the answer to... I don't know if I can do those things. Or if I'm lost, and my phone is dead and it's getting dark and I don't know what train to get.

I burst into tears at Thirroul train station once- and by once I mean like, last year, because I screwed up my trip badly and didn't know what I was doing. I let my mum 5 voicemails. I am not a jungle cat, adept in the wild, I'm like a guinea pig. Those things are cute as fuck, but zero survival instincts. They squeal and give themselves heart attacks.

That is me because right now I totally do look cute as fuck, I feel v. pretty, it is good. But also incapable and not for use in real world.

Eep.

Just some musings bout that one particular boy, don't even judge me

I read a quote today, 'don't romanticise people that hurt you'.

You-know-who has haunted me for a long, long time. Just a little bit, but when it comes down to it, the fact is that romanticising what we had describes a) this blog and b) my thought processes that still remain today, to an extent.

Every time I told myself that he was special, that it was an exception, something I'd never regret or forget or want to change, that's romanticising.

It's much better to just leave the explanation in a way that is equally as honest, but much less flattering. He was immature and didn't care about me in the same way I did for him. I didn't know how to communicate properly, was too shy and full of pride to admit my feelings. Because of that, I acted immaturely, punishing him with silent treatment that I only employed to make him focus on me and chase me, with mixed signals because I was too confused and infatuated to make a firm decision on what course of action I wanted to take.

I let him control too much of our relationship, because I was too scared of losing him to risk saying no, or that things he did weren't okay with me, or hurt my feelings. Because of this, he didn't properly understand what I was thinking and feeling most of the time, and this added to our bad decision making and frustration with each other, because we didn't realise how unclear our actions were in communicating our thoughts and intent.

While he made me feel desired and loved, he also made me feel insecure and not good enough. I didn't get what I really needed from him, but I let myself believe that I had. I felt like I'd give him everything and anything he wanted and that wasn't healthy at all.

I don't deny it was love, but it was also very much infatuation. 'Crazy love'.

I don't feel anything for  him anymore. Bemusement perhaps. He isn't special anymore. I didn't believe you could share something with someone and have it not matter later, but you can. Feelings change and so do people. I grew up some, added some life experience (just a bit) and figured out who I am since year 12 and when he knew me.

It's not even as significant an event as I was sure it would be. I suppose things rarely are.

It's good though, I'm glad I'm all over him and that he's doing good and I'm doing good and I just don't have any regrets that things didn't turn out different or that we'd done this or that. Like, for a long time I think I thought that I'd have liked to have slept with him. And maybe from his perspective, it was a no chance in hell, but from mine I could have seen it happening. Now that whole idea just makes me laugh and think 'who cares'.

I like that.

Same sex marriage has become legalised in ACT. Part of the country that I live in.

You do not even know how happy this makes me.

It's not even just the fact that I identify under LGBT, though that's part of it. I can imagine marrying a girl and it's emotional to think that now that's possible, to have a wedding with friends and family being able to attend and have a relationship acknowledged in the same way as any other couple. That's big and it's important and it makes me very happy.

It also lets me have a modicum of pride in my country, something which has been difficult lately as far as politics and Government are concerned (obviously I still cheer and support Australia in any type of sporting event- mega lots of pride there). I mean, when America starts becoming more liberal than you, that's embarrassing.

I was so worked up about it all today that I got my laptop taken off me in a lecture for disrupting and distracting the people around me. Oops. It was worth it though, I truly think this is a special day. It's a milestone for our country and for the millions of queer Australians.

A little musing and comparison to old TV shows...

“One of the most insightful things I’ve ever read about eating disorders and body esteem in general was a comment on my blog a while ago that I regret being unable to find now. The writer was saying that most people think girls want to be skinny because of Hollywood and Vogue. This girl wanted to be skinny because she wanted to be a protagonist. She didn’t expose herself to mainstream fashion magazines or TV; she was interested in art films and books and indie music. But no matter how alternative the movie, the protagonist was almost always skinny. And wanting to be a protagonist means wanting to be someone, as most people do. Apparently, your story is only worth hearing, you’re only someone, if you’re skinny—it’s like, the blueprint of a human. Once that’s down, you’re allowed to be as interesting and protagonist-y as you want! Apparently. No matter how much people our age have been raised ongirl power and believe in yourself and you are beautiful, ignoring the beauty standards of the culture we live in is close to impossible. And as this lady pointed out, these standards and expectations exist outside mainstream culture like reality TV and tabloids; they exist in punk and indie cultures, in “artsy” Tumblr cultures that are all about looking like a fairy, but only if you’re a skinny white girl.”

I really want to be a protagonist. I hate being called a follower because to me that means I don't have my own story, I don't have my own agency. I'm not interesting enough or funny enough or pretty enough or smart enough to rate any of that. When I imagine my life being part of a book or any kind of told story... maybe a TV show or soap opera or whatnot, I think... 'would I have any fans? Would anyone care about my character? I don't want to be a random extra, like I have my own fucking life and problems and relationships and that stuff should matter, regardless of how pretty I am or attractive and it devastates me that maybe that isn't the case.

In the show Skins, it's about a group of 6 people, and each episode is specifically dedicated to one of them. Completely. You see the others as the protagonist interacts with them, separately and as a group, but also alone, and with their families and at school and with other people that the other people don't see.

There was a character, Pandora. She was... uncool. She was innocent and dumb and a pushover and naive and all these things I hate. I hate them in myself. But this character, not only did she look alarmingly like me, but I identified very strongly with her. Which I hated. Because to my mind, she was the worst parts of who I was. She wasn't super skinny, she had big front teeth and people thought she was weird and she was and she wore her hair in pigtails and rambled too much and didn't get it. She didn't know how to be cool.

And she had this best friend, who was beautiful and skinny and wore a lot of eyeliner and wore short skirts with fishnet stockings who all the boys wanted to fuck and to be with and she was the main character and she was who I wanted to be, not fucking useless, boring, Pandora.

But then, in Pandora's episode, I cried, so fucking hard and only half understood why. She was having a birthday party, just her and Effie (best friend) and two other girls and everyone thought her house was weird, and her Mum was weird and what she wanted to do was stupid and they patronised her and all she wanted was for them to play Twister and Effie to tell her how to 'do sex'.

But instead, they get everyone high off brownies and things go fucking crazy and she's crying in the bathroom and Effie is just like 'what is the fucking problem, I'll teach you how to give a blowjob' and Pandora just goes off and says that it was her party and it was supposed to be them helping her and doing what she wanted and instead Effie just did what she liked and its not like that outburst changed anything, she was still left alone crying in the bathroom.

But later... everyone else was gone or asleep or unconscious and Cook, resident asshole and cocky dickhead was the only one left awake and Pandora tells him what she'd wanted- twister and advice on sex (because she has a boyfriend but he's been deported). And Cook says ok, teach me twister. And excitable Pandora does. And what I liked about it, was that Panda was uncool, and she wasn't stick thin or the 'main character' but she still got to be sexy and she got to have this scene where she was absolutely seen as desirable.

I got a boyfriend because of this scene. Literally, this is what made me date my first boyfriend, because I wanted what Pandora had. It made me choose to get with a guy I knew was into me- and lets be clear here, we got together because I decided. Otherwise it wouldn't have happened. It was the most powerful I'd ever been in a way, that's the main thing I got from that relationship, this delirious feeling that I was important and I mattered and I was in control. Not exactly what most people get out of their first relationships but that was what I did.

I was fifteen when I first saw this and all that happened and it still remains one of the sexiest scenes I can remember ever seeing. When Cook kissed down her stomach and the camera stayed focused on Pandora and it was so intensely about Pandora and this being her moment and her evolution and journey and story, that really stayed with me.

This entry really is about insecurity. In a way, the difference between Pandora and I, as she is just so unabashedly who she is. But on the other hand, Pandora literally says things like she's useless and no boys want her and it's not that she isn't self aware because she is, which made her real to me.

I forget that I had insecurity before you-know-who and the weight thing. It didn't seem as noteworthy at the time but looking back, you know, I think they were, I've just forgotten mostly, what it was like to be 13 and 15 and deal with all of it. I actually think I have gotten a lot more dramatic over the years in regards to my feelings.

Don't read if you have body insecurity issues... I dont want to offend anyone

but I might do because when I'm insecure about something, I'm quite vicious about it towards myself and while  don't necessarily think that should be generalised to other people, it could be taken that way.

I'm at this weird place because a) I weigh more than I've ever weighed. This could easily have the potential to get me down or terrify me, especially since I'm going away so soon and will be expected to make friends and meet so many new people and the more I weigh, the more unworthy I feel of being someone's new friend. It doesn't make much sense but that's how I feel 1000%. My best friends now are fine, they have to accept me (though mum does tell me it'd make their life easier if I was skinny, as she tells me the prettier/outgoing my friends are, obviously the more likely boys are to approach us, the easier it'll be to make new friends etc.) She's said this for a long time and while I feel I should disagree in principal, it is probably true. And yeah, I do believe in body positivity and healthy at any weight and not owing a thin body to anyone but that's theory and in real life I feel at the very least, I owe myself a thin body because whether self inflicted or legitimately, I lose opportunities.

Besides, people are drawn to pretty people. Last week I met a bunch of a friend of mines uni friends and that's just how it is, the one that kept drawing my interest was the prettiest one. Maybe that's just me and obviously pretty girls aren't more interesting than average girls but if I have to make a choice, well there it is. And my own personal feeling is that it's very hard to be pretty and overweight.

But then that isn't true, urgh. I think I'm pretty. I do, most of the time. I think I have a pretty face and like, I have a mirror over my wardrobe so basically, parallel to my bed is a wall length mirror so I can see myself pretty much all the time I'm on the computer and yeah, when I have bad days, I move the panel across so I don't have to see myself but mostly, I like how I look. I don't mind my legs and my bum and my boobs are awesome and my hair is nice and my face is cute and with a shirt on my tummy looks fine so I'm actually happy with it.

I'm not saying it'll last or that I think I'd feel the same way if I was outside, you know, around people but... I don't know, I like myself. I like my colouring and my face and one day I will get my body the way I want it. Most likely not this time, because obviously I've failed so many times, I don't know why this time will be different, but eventually. I will end up where I want to be, even if it takes 3 years.

I don't want to be anyone else. I like who I am, mentally and physically. Like, my best friend is beautiful. Objectively, she's tall and slim and has pointy shoulder blades and decent boobs. The definition of curvy when applied to a skinny girl. And she has a pretty face and pretty sure she has dimples and prominent cheekbones and whatnot. But it's not like I want to switch with her. I like me.  I'd be less happy with her appearance than mine, and it's nothing to do with hers not being nice, I just actually do love what I look like and think I'm pretty, most of the time.

So yeah, I'm in this weird place where I don't actually hate myself, but then I do, and I don't and it's complicated. Probably something I read about 'my body is always in a flux of change.' Meaning that our bodies aren't stable and what I look like today isn't who I'll be tomorrow and next month or next year and even if I get to my goal, that isn't ever the end of it, it's always just a state that changes. Maybe a little bit, maybe a lot and while that's intimidating, it's also comforting because a lot of that control over that change is mine.

Also, I decided to fake tan my legs and that looks pretty decent (apart from on the ankles which are shocking haha). I think it's just a mix of that and my hair looking decently blonde and being back in contacts after a week of glasses that's just making me happy about everything, even if I haven't left the house in a day and a half and I have eaten less than perfectly. I just need to keep going. I have a countdown going until New Year, because that's when I'm leaving most likely, on about the 2nd or 3rd of January. It's about 86 days (my door still says 'Lucy I know you suck at everything but 110 days') so I have to change it.

I think it's good having it there, it also says 'don't ignore me you lazy bitch' underneath, which is good because every time I leave my room to get food, it at least makes me a hesitate an extra second longer.

Don't be concerned by the fact that I call myself names, I speak to myself in third person a lot. I make up a lot of different personas, like 'Past Lucy' and 'Future Lucy' to convince myself of stuff and then I actually made up an alternate Lucy, who had a different name as a way of trying to create accountability for myself inside my own head.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in because well, I'm supposed to be doing an essay. 200 words an hour doesn't seem like much when I just wrote this 1000 word blog in fucking 20 minutes but that's literally as fast as I can possible go.

Toodles.

I started swimming :)

I've decided I'm too lazy to run. I like it when I'm doing it (ish) and I like the way I feel after but it's getting hotter, swimming can be more social and it's new so I am more motivated to do it.

I swam 2k this morning, which I think is impressive. I've gone 3 times now, last Thursday, this Wednesday and this morning (Thursday). I swam 1.35k, 1.5k and 2k those times respectively.

The first time I did it with a girl from work Stacey. We had had the idea to go walking before work for exercise, on the days we start at the same time. But then she asked it if'd like to go to the pool instead. I was hesitant, because I didn't own a one-piece swimsuit and did I still have goggles and I'd have to wake up early etc, but I sorted my crap out, went to Best and Less that afternoon and got cheap swimmers, found my googles and went to bed early.

I am slow at swimming, but I'm sure I've improved, just over the 3 times I've been. I can breathe a lot more smoothly and once I started resting every 100m, rather than each lap, I found it going faster and being a lot more manageable. I'm the type of person that counts each lap obsessively, and works out what percentage I've done, and how much to go, and if I did this many more, what would it be etc. Maybe when I become a stronger swimmer, or at least more confident, I could start stopping every second time I get back to my drink bottle, which I keep at the shallow end of the 50m pool.

I'm just having fun with it right now and it's letting me be a bit more flexible with the not-so-healthy eating (which probably isn't that good). But it's just been like a friend asking me to dessert and it being important that I not say no, and a party today, where the main emphasis was on the food she cooked, so I think it's been a good thing.

And my legs are so sore. I always think of swimming as an arm sport, because that's where my focus is when I'm doing it, on how many strokes until I breathe again, is my hand entering the water right, etc. But the kicking is actually what makes it hardcore I think, even if I don't particularly notice at the time, when I try to get out the pool, I wobble around like crazy.

Anyway, just a brief update, since I'm very determined to not talk/ obsess over weight on this blog, it's not good for me. But this was something positive and I'm excited for it.