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almondmlkbtch · 1 year

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keeping out of binge territory — personal reminders & ideas that have helped me

- 1-2 “maintenance” days for every -3500 deficit mark (minimum)

- “maintenance” day = anywhere from -800 to -500 deficit for me. i am usually trying for -1000+ deficit daily. i get discouraged if i do a real maintenance day (zero deficit) that’s the sickness in me lmao. aiming for a couple days of -500 deficit— usually enough to satisfy me & get back on track if im really feeling like binging. that is subject to change tho lol.. depends on how hard im going with fasting & exercise.

- remember to incorporate more volume meals like salads, veggie bowls, etc. — in general & especially when feeling a binge coming on. sometimes i forget that this actually helps. im hungry i think, im gonna binge, nothing will help. binging is such a helpless feeling. but even if i just sauté some broccoli or veggies with egg whites— the difference it makes. you’d be surprised. before you surrender to a binge, at least try to make something healthy to eat.

- max 1 meal or snack a day that includes calories which cannot be counted (so no take out, only certain foods from work like salads, etc) in GENERAL keep to calories that can be counted so home cooked meals only, small exceptions like salads or tiny snacks can be made in emergency if afraid of binging, lol. i will fall into the trap of eating things i cant count and this puts me in “fuck it” territory with counting calories. which leads to binging because i could be under calories or over, idk bc idk what’s in that salad dressing or half a sandwich or whatever it is im eating bc i didnt take the time to prep my lunch for work

- similarly ^ minimize processed foods — 1 item per day max— … protein bars/snacks lead to binges, are not as filling/satisfying during binges, they just make things worse tbh

- HYDRATE — need to hydrate to feel ok when cutting cals AND fasting AND exercising. up the Powerade zeros, vitamin waters, gatorade zeros, etc, whatever it takes, have a variety on hand

- food diaries !!! this one is SO important to me— rly what my blog is for— tho i have more extensive entries in my notes app. it’s a huge part of manifesting. without it i dont think i’d have the confidence to continue when things get difficult— but also it rly truly helps you get past challenges when you actually think through things & reflect. like what is holding me back rn? why did i feel like binging today? or did i not— why is that? did i eat more fat? did more carbs in the morning help me get through the shift without eating as much? what is helping/hurting? so helpful. any time i stop journaling i really come up against more challenges.

- make a list of foods/meals want to binge on & come up with a healthy replacement version i am going to do this tonight probably & post some ideas

- also ^ variety in food & meals — get creative — again, makes it fun, distracts from eating less

- prep healthiest meals of the day to eat at work & show it off.. lol… this one is sick but it’s just such a high to eat something healthy to eat during a shift and everyone see.. and i work in a cafe sometimes my coworkers will giggle at my tiny meals/comment on healthy they are.. it rly helps. but i gotta start to do something that’s not just a yogurt & carrots, like i need a whole ass salad or something filling, i been tempted to binge at work lol. this one is specific to me hahaha i just rly think it will help

- practice mindful eating — ig this should be at the top of the list LMAO but i have a hard time sticking to this every meal. when im eating at work on break it’s my only chance to take my mind off work so i tend to go on my phone while i eat. but getting in the habit of this is sooo helpful, even if just one mindful meal a day. enjoying my meals helps me feel satisfied and start my fasts from a feeling of abundance. and how you start a fast is really important i think to sticking it through. if you start it feeling like you didn’t eat or can’t eat, you won’t finish it, or you’ll be slogging through.

✨ short list i wrote out for myself today. i got off track after 2 binges one of which had me in -500 deficit which RLY hit my confidence and made me wanna get off track. i wanna keep going and challenging myself but i realized i gotta be smart if i wanna sustain my faster pace. it’s nice that i went so long without binging but, if u have a fast pace with stuff like this, it’s easy to get ahead of urself and get into binge territory. these r some reminders that help me keep on track, still be able to challenge myself while also being realistic abt how much i can push myself✨

#losing weight #weight loss #thin #thinspo #thinspo ration #binge #skinnny #not pro just using tags

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lostloveletters · 23 days

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Jesus or Gasoline (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Woody isn't sure what she believes in, except for the way John Brady makes her feel.

Note: Here it is, the result of my making a ‘guy who says grace before giving head’ joke about Brady. I wanna give a million thanks to all the Woody/Brady babes out there because y'all's support and enthusiasm for them means the world to me! As usual I listened to a lot of Bruce Springsteen while writing this. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical inaccuracies. This goes into Woody’s not so great childhood/young adulthood and her generally negative internalized thoughts surrounding religion. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (f. receiving) and coming in pants.

The field behind the hangar was a questionable date spot at best, but Woody figured it was better than nothing. Secluded enough with some lighting as to not be stumbling around in the dark, but without fear of being easily identified if they got caught before they could make a break for it if needed.

Word of the late night rendezvous had come from Holly, barely able to contain her excitement at being the messenger. “Your beau wanted me to tell you to meet him tonight,” she whispered, giggling as she added, “said you’d know where.”

Woody had given Holly all of the details the night John Brady kissed her, her best friend in ecstatic disbelief that so much had happened while she and Bucky were listening to a baseball game across the way. Holly took girl code as a sacred oath, not mentioning Woody and Brady’s relationship to a soul in the week or so that had passed. John wasn’t exactly pleased when Woody let him know that she told Holly, but he supposed if Woody trusted Holly that much, he could, too.

“There you are, sweetheart,” John said, with a genuine fondness that she almost couldn’t believe was directed toward her. “Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head, greeting him with a kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“I brought you something,” he said, pulling a Hershey bar from his pocket.

“Don’t waste that on me, are you kidding?”

“Holly told me you give the village kids whatever candy you get, and I know ground crew doesn’t get as much in your rations as we do.”

Good ol’ Holly. “They appreciate it more than me.”

He looked at her pointedly, though eyes glistened in amusement as he half-scolded, “Don’t reject a gift, sweetheart. It’s bad manners.”

Woody fought back a smile, felt her cheeks heating up . “Thank you, Johnny. You’re real sweet.” Gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his forearm. “Can we at least split it?”

“I won’t say no to that.”

The grass was damp from the late afternoon rain. She was glad she thought to grab an old blanket, worn out and smelled faintly of fuel, but it’d do.

He split the bar in two, handing the bigger half to her. She took a bite, surprised to find herself feeling a wistful melancholy for the states at the taste of it. Wasn’t sure she ever felt homesick before, but there was a first time for everything. Like John laying out on the blanket, resting his head in her lap.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a laugh.

“Great view from here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You know, I’ve been dying to ask you this ever since I met you,” he began, giving her pause at the seemingly endless possible questions he could hit her with. “Do you really like being called ‘Woody’?”

She nodded, stroking his hair, taking in how relaxed he looked. “Yeah, I really do. It’s been nice to leave ‘Kate’ behind and start fresh.”

“So your first name is just Kate?”

“Shows you how much thought my parents put into it.”

“See, I wanna know more about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We talk a good deal, but I don’t know much about your life before all of this.”

“I don’t have anything nostalgic or good to tell you, especially not about me. I’m ashamed of who I was before. I’m trying to be better, John. I really am. I don’t—I don’t hang around people who have nothing going for them.”

People like how she used to be. The backstreets burst at the seams with them. Children of neglect, of the Depression, of something wild otherwise running through their veins. They made their homes where they could. Guys who rode around on streaks of lightning, spewing pure gasoline from snarled lips on each of those hilly avenues until they were wrangled in the back of cherry-topped police cars. Girls who should’ve known better drank empty promises out of broken glasses, handed to them by the constantly circling shark-men. Kate learned quickly not to get attached to anyone. They looked out for each other, but they weren’t friends. There was a difference.

“I got an older brother named Tom. Last I heard he was in jail for holding up a liquor store,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, though. That’s when I really started looking after myself.”

“Eleven is pretty young to be on your own,” he said, taking her hand from his hair and holding it in his own, intertwining their fingers.

“What were you doing when you were eleven?”

He shrugged. “Rode bikes around with my friends. Started learning saxophone. I was an altar boy, too.”

“So your family went to mass a lot when you were growing up?”

“Every Sunday that we could. I remember my mom waking us up to go even when we had to walk through a foot of snow to get there because the roads hadn't been cleared yet,” he said, his voice growing softer as he spoke. “Doesn’t seem all that bad, now. Maybe it—it helped some.”

Woody had seen John make the sign of the cross dozens of times. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Remembered the first time she watched him among the other Catholic guys in the 100th, crowded around the chaplain for his makeshift blessing on the tarmac before their missions. Devotion ran exceptionally high then, men suddenly armed with a rainbow of beaded rosaries and holy cards adorned with saints whose weary eyes gazed upward, where those men were soon to be. Their heads bowed in silent contemplation as the priest concluded in Latin, John’s mouth moving along with sed libera nos a malo. But deliver us from evil.

A handsome face like his deserved half a dozen kids with names like Mary and Francis who filed neatly into a pew with their shiny patent shoes and a big family meal to look forward to after mass. Kids who gave the likes of her odd looks when she shuffled into church for whatever lunch the nuns were dishing out that afternoon. Always dressed in her Sunday worst—ill-fitting blouses and holey shoes until she ditched their charity and decided she was better off raising hell in denim jeans. God loved everyone, and his love was unconditional, but no one wanted to say he loved some people more than others, and Kate was pretty low on his list.

After all, Kate Woodward was born without a middle name on a Wednesday morning that even god himself forgot about. Didn’t know what the weather had been like the first time she breathed in the air of her home city, but she was sure it felt like a kick in the chest. Probably why babies cried when they made their grand escape from the womb.

Hardly raised in the first place, Kate had little faith in god or man, just in the machines she could bend to her will until they gave her freedom to go wherever she pleased. But her freedom had gnashing teeth and a forked tongue that were never satisfied, no matter how many vices she fed it, and she was nothing short of gluttonous in this endeavor.

Tried and true, the one she had the hardest time shaking—sticky fingers. If Kate saw something she liked, she took it. From drug store shelves to purses to wallets, nothing was off limits. As time went on, her spoils only got bigger and better, linking up with people who taught her how to steal cars like riding a bike. She had yet to find a replacement for that particular thrill, but her self-control had markedly improved in a little over two years.

Then there were men with hacksaw smiles that threatened to cut her open if she got as close as they wanted her to. Thunderous voices that cracked with rage when she’d shove the smoldering cherry tip of her cigarette into a hand that got too close for comfort. None of them were any good, not like the man with his head in her lap, who brought her chocolate rations and listened intently to her, even as her voice shook with trepidation at bearing so much of her heart.

Woody hummed, her fingers trembling as she traced the features on his face—his expressive brows, the nose that gave him a profile she could hardly tear her eyes from, lips she dreamed about since the night he first kissed her and every time since. Besides the power of a well-maintained engine, she believed in the way she felt about John.

“I was lonely and angry,” she murmured after relaying her patchwork of regrets and fears to him. “I made a lot of mistakes because of that. It’s not an excuse. But I wanna be honest with you so you can still change your mind about me if you want to. I understand if you do.”

“There’s nothing to change my mind about, sweetheart. I want to be with you,” he said, conviction strong in his voice as he sat up.

“I’m not a virgin,” she stressed.

He shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would’ve been surprised if you were.”

“Well, I didn’t love any of them—four guys in total, mind you—and it’s not like I got anything out of it, either.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Crushes were for girls who lived in nice houses and wrote hearts above their i’s. Desire ran hot, expressed in glances made with hooded lids beneath buzzing neon lights that left a thousand things unsaid. But after that handful of physically underwhelming experiences which ended up being far more trouble than they were worth, she came to the conclusion that she was better suited to get her own rocks off.

“Got what out of it?” he asked.

She chewed on her lip. The only sin out there was getting caught, and Kate Woodward never got caught. Woody chose to confess. “I had to get to the good part myself.”

“That’s unacceptable.”

Her heart sank. “I haven’t done it in—“

“Those selfish bastards never made you come?”

“Not one.”

“In that case, I’d be glad to be your first.”

“I want you to be,” she said, leaning back on her hands in the dewey grass, spreading her coverall-clad legs apart. “I wanna do everything with you.”

He placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers playing with the inner hem of her coveralls. “Tell me how you want it, sweetheart.”

“I want your mouth.” Truthfully, she’d never had a guy go down on her before. Heard about it from other girls, wild ones out in the desert. A few others as she got to know the first group of WAAC girls she bunked with after enlisting. Even from Holly, as apparently Stan had been generous and enthusiastic about that aspect of their sex life. Stan, Stan, what a man, the girls would tease about Holly’s fiance before he was dearly departed.

The corners of John’s lips twitched up as he brought his fingers further along the hem, inching closer to her covered sex. “Never had a girl ask me to do that before.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

She hesitated, averting her eyes from him. “A lot of guys think it’s gross.”

“I think I should decide for myself, don’t you?” He cupped her chin, caressing her jaw with his thumb. “Look at me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”

Upon returning her gaze to his, she found no judgment behind his eyes, but a passionate sincerity.

“I want you to go down on me,” she said.

She studied him as he watched her. His pretty lips parted slightly, drinking her in as more of her body was exposed. It wasn’t a strip tease, nothing sexy about the way she pulled her arms out from the sleeves and yanked her coveralls down to her knees, finally kicking them to her ankles and off entirely. Sat before him in her white t-shirt, plain underwear, and boots, almost boyish if not for her breasts, low on her chest, nipples poking through the fabric.

“Are you wearing a bra?” He sounded breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was even asking.

“No,” she said, her lips curving into a smile, letting him in on another secret. “I always take it off at the end of the day. Don’t tell anyone.”

As if the other girls didn’t know, with some degree of judgment along with their understanding that the damn thing got uncomfortable, could chafe with all the work they were doing, the sweat and friction. It wasn’t like anyone could really tell beneath the other layers, anyway. But anyone meant anyone of the male persuasion, and with that, John dutifully shook his head.

His lips were on hers in an instant, a hand on her waist, the other shoved up her shirt, squeezing her breasts. She gasped at the way his rough palm felt against her nipple, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue in her mouth. Her moans were lost to the world, claimed by him and him alone. He straddled her lap, keeping her in place beneath him.

John moved his hand from her waist to between her legs, rubbing her already wet pussy through her underwear. Her lips were undoubtedly swollen from the ferocity with which he kissed her. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought of how it’d feel against her cunt.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them off of her. Bringing up her knees, she felt a burst of adrenaline rush through her at being so exposed to him.

“You need to tell me how I’m doing, alright? I wanna make sure you feel good,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she mumbled, almost dizzy with desire as he lowered his face between her legs.

His hot breath on her cunt, lips brushing against her folds. She strained to hear… whispering?

“Johnny?” she asked after a few moments of aching anticipation. “Baby, if you don’t wanna— Jesus Christ,” she choked out. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the rest of them.

His tongue lapped at her clit, eyes looking up at her for approval. With a shaky nod, she bid him to continue, biting her lip as to stifle the whine that threatened to escape her mouth. A noble attempt, but fruitless when he licked up her pussy with the flat of his tongue, pulling a moan from deep in her chest. Her heart was beating between her legs.

Woody could make herself feel pretty damn good on her own. She lifted a dirty magazine from a guy in Reno once. Had pictures and everything, though she wasn’t sure how real it all was. She’d look at the pictures, tongue between her lips and hand between her thighs as she imagined herself in those women’s places, feeling the ecstasy written all over their expressive faces with their typically faceless partners. From there, she’d get creative, allowing her mind to conjure up a man who, behind her closed eyes, could bring her to orgasm. Even in her wildest fantasies, she never thought she’d find one who’d actually want to bury his face in her pussy.

Fuck, if she couldn’t feel John’s fingers digging into her thighs, she would’ve almost thought she was dreaming. She grabbed his hair, pressing his face harder against her cunt. He was giving so much, and she’d take all of it, greedy with the pleasure he offered her.

He slid two fingers inside her pussy, slowly enough to see how she’d take it before pumping them in and out at a quicker pace. Used his other hand to hold her down when her hips jerked up in his face, like her muscles had a mind of their own, hellbent on reaching an orgasm. Hell, so was she.

“Just like that— fuck,” she rasped, her nails scraping against his scalp.

She nearly wanted to ask if he’d been lying, if he had gone down on a girl before. He at least had enough experience to know where her fucking clit was, but his mouth. Jesus, how could he expect her to go to the officer’s club and watch him play saxophone after this? As if she wouldn’t be sitting there, skin feverish, thighs pressed together, thinking about his mouth and his fingers in that moment. The way his teeth grazed against her clit, making her pussy clench around his fingers. The way it almost felt like he was making out with her cunt. Their eyes would meet, and he’d know, maybe have a little smirk on his face up there, too. An obscene secret privately shared amidst dozens of other people who’d be none the wiser.

“Don’t stop,” She was so close it almost hurt, wound up tight and pulsing in her gut, waiting to be released. “Please don’t stop.” Hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Her chest felt like it was on the verge of bursting open. Between a fistful of grass and a hand buried in his hair, she cried out his name like a vulgar prayer in the night as her orgasm rocked through her.

A universe of stars burst across her abdomen, white-hot supernova tearing through her muscles, blinding her from anything but the pleasure that pulsed from her pussy. She finally came down from it, covered in sweat, chest heaving, a wild-eyed woman as John pushed himself back up on unsteady arms.

She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer so he was straddling her lap. Took in his mussed up hair and the way his lips glistened with the traces of her still on them. She kissed him, a muffled moan in her throat at the taste of herself on this tongue.

She wanted him. More of him. Everything he had to give. Wasn’t sure it’d be enough to sate her need, but damn if she couldn’t try.

“Johnny, can’t we just do it?” she pleaded, her voice a girlish whine that sounded otherwise foreign coming from her as she desperately pawed at him.

“Next time,” he whispered. “Next time, sweetheart, I promise.” Grazed his teeth against her hummingbird pulse. “I didn’t bring a condom.”

“But what about you?” she pressed, reaching for his crotch. “You must be—“

He shook his head, cheeks flushed as he licked his lips. “I got carried away, sweetheart. I, uh—I’m good.”

She slipped her hand down his pants, feeling the sticky evidence of his orgasm for herself. Her fingertips brushed the sensitive head of his spent cock, sending a shiver down his spine. Was he good, though? He groaned. No wonder Douglass kept so many goddamn rubbers in his footlocker.

“Next time,” he repeated, voice strained and husky in a horrific display of self-control. He nearly regretted it when she pulled her hand away, feeling something sinful stir in his gut as she inspected her hand, finally bringing it to her mouth and licking the residue off her knuckles with a feline-esque curl of her tongue.

“Just say the word, Johnny. Whenever you want me to return the favor, I’ll drop everything for you.”

He swallowed roughly. She meant it.

#john brady x oc #john brady #john brady x ofc #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #mota #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #ch: woody #so basically i got carried away

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bruteratelxo · 4 months

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Anime thinspo ration!!!

Enjoy

#thinspo #i wanna lose weight #ana trigger #tw ana diary #annnna #anna talks #pro a4a #disordered eating in tags #tw disordered eating #purg1ng #tw purge #thin$po #thin$p0 #bonespr0 #tw ed in the tags #ed disorder #tw restriction #tw ana trigger

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lightweight-storytime · 1 year

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A is for Always thinking about food

B is for Body checking

C is for Counting calories

D is for Diet plans

E is for Energy Drinks

F is for Fear foods

G is for Going without dinner

H is for Hiding food from yourself

I is for Insecurity

J is for Just one more hour of a fast

K is for Kilogram

L is for losing weight

M is for Minimizing calories

N is for No food after 7pm

O is for Only drinking water

P is for Posting thinspo

Q is for Questioning everything you eat

R is for Rationalizing your disporder

S is for Starving

T is for Telling yourself lies

U is for Unsatisfied hunger

V is for Very few friends

W is for Wanting a new body

X is for Xanax to stop the anxiety

Y is for Your desire to be thin

Z is for Zinc supplements with your vitamins

#pro a4a #only pro for tags #tw ana related #tw ana diary #ana trigger #thin$po #thin$p0 #i wish i was thinner #bonespø #anna miaa #skinnysp0 #skinnni #skinnyyyy #skinnii #notprojustusingthetags

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midnightslumbers-world · 2 years

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People who have THINSPO accounts should be charged with 3rd degree murder if one of their followers dies.

if you actively come to this platform every single day and post content encouraging young girls to starve themselves you are essentially a murderer.

The other day I saw a post of someone aestheticising eating 240 calories a day??

In the Warsaw slums during WW2 the NAZIS only fed the Jews 300 calories a day to starve them to death- around 100,000 Jews died between 1940-41 from starvation and diseases related to malnutrition.

This person is trying to make 240 calories a LIFESTYLE. This is not dainty, cute coquette and a testament of how much admirable self restraint you have.

You are encouraging a lifestyle that LEADS TO DEATH. You CANNOT eat 240 calories a day, you will DIE. It is not “feminine” and “dainty” to look like a war experiment patient. You look ill. you NEED HELP.

SECONDLY, the reason the people running these accounts deserve to be punished is that mental illness is NOT AN EXCUSE for encouraging other people to harm themselves. If you told someone to kill themselves and then they did, you can face up to 14 years in prison.

So how is encouraging them to starve any different?

I was an anorexic for a very long time because I became brainwashed by these accounts. Everything becomes a competition, I would scroll for hours seeing how much people were eating and trying to do less. This resulted in me dropping to 70% of my body weight and being told I would have 6 weeks to live if I continued.

My heart was so weak the doctors were scared when we began re-feeding I would have a heart attack. They told my parents the condition is called “re feeding syndrome” a phrase coined after WW2 when many of the death camp survivors died from simply eating food again. Their body could not handle the sudden introduction of sugars and fibres.

Many anorexics DIE because they have been following diets aestheticised on the internet that are similar to NAZI STARVATION RATIONS.

Secondly, saying “oh this is my diary account” “this account is so I can vent” “ I struggle with anorexia as well” is NOT AN EXCUSE for encouraging and giving people TIPS on how to KILL THEMSELVES.

people use these accounts to establish their superiority over others. the subtext of their 'tips' on how to starve is them telling you they are thinner, healthier and have better self control then you. there is a shaming element implicit throughout. even when disguised as some sort of twisted help, there is a criticism of all those who don't have the self control to follow their DEATH DIET. thinspo quickly turns into 'fatspo' of using pictures of women who don't look like they are about to drop dead as 'motivation to starve'. it is disgusting.

these accounts create hierarchies to place anorexics above people who can actually enjoy life. there is a superiority complex despite the fact every 1 in 5 anorexia deaths is a result of suicide. Without treatment, up to 20 percent of all eating disorder cases result in DEATH. they want to romanticise THE HELL they are living in and drag everyone down with them.

I know exactly how they feel because i had the same condition, and i'm still struggling with it. and i used to think i was better than people who ate normally. but they weren't the ones who couldn't sleep because they were so hungry, who couldn't walk in a straight line because their legs were so weak, whose hair was falling out from malnutrition. but most importantly, i didn't come online, even in the depths of my violent eating disorder and continue this cycle of hatred.

no matter how bad anorexia gets, it is not an excuse to come online and ENCOURAGE other people to die.

You’re NOT YOLANDA HADID, you’re not an older-sister figure trying to help other “girlies” out with your romanticised and twisted vision of beauty.

You have more in common with the NAZIS than with Kendall Jenner or Lily-rose Depp or any of the other models you have clutched to from a Pinterest board.

#an0rexic #THINSPO #IHATETHINSPO #ANOREXIAISNOTPRETTY #ANOREXIALEADSTODEATH #lily rose melody depp #kendall jenner #modelling #anorexiarecovery #we do recover #sobriety #addiction #recovery

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