Let's roll.

Before we start, I'll clarify - the girl on the left isn't me. I bloody wish.

I'm not a newbie to this blogging business. I've had a couple of weight-loss blogs before. I'll be honest with you - they were RUBBISH. End of.

Saying that, I still have no idea how to use this blogspot business. So my blog is probably always going to look like this. I have no idea how to make it look all fancy, how to stick my own images in to crown my blog in such an artistic way, how to have a fancy ticker of exactly how much weight I'm losing (which pop up a LOT on pro-ana blogs). HTML is a foreign language to me. I'll give it a shot when I can, but don't get your hopes up.

I want this blog to be 100% ANONYMOUS. Don't expect to see pictures of me - it's not gonna happen. I might do the odd body-shot and remove it in a couple of days (depending on how popular this is) but no face stuff. No links to my current life. Heck, I'm just going to write it in the eyes of a complete pseudo-me. I'll call her Q. It was the first letter I saw on my keyboard. Top-left.

Q is going to be good at this. Q is going to lose weight, look hot, get loooads of attention. Much more than skinny friend H, who zipped up a size 4 last year, and has lost weight since then. A size 4! I'm pretty sure that's a size 0 across the pond. The ultimate model's dream. Whenever I go out with H, she's smothered in boys who'd cut off their own ears to get their hands on her - whoever said boys don't like skinny girls was LYING.

But anyway, enough about all that. Let's fill you in on me. Or rather, Q.

Q is 19 years old. Just turned, actually. 19 is a strong year for her. 19 is the year she's going to get a boyfriend after years of single life, to lose her virginity properly (I don't think the last time really counts), to get skinny and be envied. You know those girls who everyone wants to be? You look at them and think god, I wish I was her. In your eyes, they can do no wrong. They've got a great figure, a great dress sense, a great boyfriend, they're LOVELY, they're achingly perfect in every way... 19 is the year I'm going to become one of those girls.

I don't want to be too specific about anything... but Q is British and is about to start her second year at university. I think that's pretty ambiguous. Being English, Q measures weight in stones, not pounds, but has kindly put an indicator of how many pounds are in how many stones lest a foreign reader stumbles across and takes an interest in this blog. Q lives with a lot of boys and being small and "skinny" (HA), is constantly picked on and chucked around by them. Oh, bantaaaar.

Q has history of anorexia (pretty sure I had it when I was 15) and has dabbled in pro-ana quite a bit, but would never call herself an anorexic. Q has never reached an unhealthy weight or gone into the lower end of the BMI scale. Q knows anorexia is a horrible and disfiguring illness. Q does not want to encourage or inspire anyone in any way to turn to it as a method of weight loss. Q only offers support to those who have it, because she knows EXACTLY how it feels. Q has never turned to bulimia but can understand the beautiful feeling of an empty stomach, the disgusting feeling of one swollen with food. Q knows what it's like to literally FEEL the fat on your skin, and has had the urge to simply grab a pair of scissors and cut the flesh off her body. Hey, Q's messed up.

Q can be quite an awesome person. She's a dancer and a writer, and isn't half bad at either of them (though I suppose YOU'LL be the one to judge the latter). She does well at school, she has lots of friends, she's fun to be around. But she's a perfectionist with a touch of OCD, and doesn't like the fact her looks aren't perfect. Can't change the face, but the body is under my control, now.

Q has skinny arms (despite the bingo wings - ahaha, see what I did thar) and skinny calves but her thighs are getting bulky. They used to be skinny. True, Q's a dancer so a lot of it is muscle, but they still jiggle when she walks. She can feel it. Q has a nice neck and shoulders and decent-sized boobs, I suppose (32DD) but her waist and hips is HUGE. Q has your textbook apple-shaped figure, and is probably going to die early because of that.

I'm getting tired of writing about myself in 3rd person.

My self-worth depends on the number on the scales. How cliche is that? Damn, I hate those scales. I can feel the loathing when I look at that horrible white rigidness, that stupid little needle that can break open my soul, or can put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. I can't wait to be rid of them. They stand there by the sink, taunting me whenever I go to wash my hands or brush my teeth. They're always casually leaning against the wall, like those blokes you're always told to stay away from. I bet if my scales were a man, he'd have a cocky smile, a stupid hairdo with a blonde streak running down the middle of it, like he got it done by his stepsister trying to make it through a beauty course at tech college. He'd be a chav, an arsehole, and he'd shout out snide remarks about how fat I was looking whenever I walked past. He'd be called Ricky, and I'd hate him.

Man, Ricky's a dick. Did you hear what Ricky just said to me? What a nob.

I put on a lot of weight in my first year at uni. 18 lbs, to be precise. I started it at 9 stone, and finished first year at 10 stone 4 lbs - crikey. Ever since I got back for summer, I've been exercising relentlessly (workout DVDs are my godsend) and dieting to get back to that 9 stone... I'm currently about 6 lbs over it. I want to be there by Freshers Week - which is in about a month. Wahoo! I'll get there eventually.

Right, enough of all this hoo-ha. Let's lose some weight, shall I?

Q x