The Skinny Little Bitch Project is a biweekly feature dedicated to examining the role of weight in celebrity culture and the impact of size in one woman’s daily life. The entries may be triggering should you suffer from an ED or body image issues. For more info on the project, or to read it from the beginning, please go here. This is not a health plan we are endorsing, we do not promote dieting and hope this project will increase awareness.  Please read at your own risk.


It’s getting to me, this restrictive way of eating.

I recently had a dream that I was clamoring in line at an ice cream truck and was told by the person in charge that I had to get to the pack of the line – so I punched said ice-cream salesman in the face and began gorging on the ice cream. I woke up, vaguely panicked – because I thought it was real. I wasn’t upset because I’d done another person harm, I was upset because I thought I’d eaten ice cream. Talk about your just completely fucked priorities.

Since our last update, I have almost quit no fewer than five very real times.This is notable because it’s the first time I’ve considered it, and they each happened one after the other after the other.

The odd thing about this particular breed of diet, is that unlike others I’ve tried, it did essentially remove my daily cravings. I told everyone this, “I don’t crave sweets, it’s really weird,” and though I played it off as bizarre, even I could hear the cloud of diet-pride coloring my voice. That didn’t make it less true. I was, however, becoming more aware of the other feelings living underneath the biological and habitual cravings.

Deciding not to eat an omnipresent ingredient in the chemical construction of food makes you stand out. While I’ve become a confident woman as I’ve grown up and older, I still squirm when my relationship with food is put under a spotlight. So why are you writing about it, huh? Because when I write about it, I’ve got a modicum of control. When I write about it, I’m playing by a specific set of rules, and I’m doing in a format and in a place where only people who are interested can read it. In my daily life, when I’m with a friend and going out to eat, I do not always want to say “I can’t have fries because I’m doing this project about weight loss and beauty and happiness so I’m dieting,” so sometimes I’m shorten it to, “I can’t have those fries because I’m dieting,” and when I say that, I announce not only that I don’t love my own body and find it to be acceptable, but that I’m watching them eat fries and thinking less of them for it, and that is not true.

People don’t like dieters. I don’t like dieters. I think dieting perpetuates the false notion that who you are isn’t good enough, and not only that, but who you are is, in fact, so bad, that you owe it to society at large to constantly announce how not-good-enough you are every time you don’t eat a slice of bread at a restaurant. I hate dieting because it is joy’s antithesis. Once, a creature who adored restaurants, and going out to eat, and trying new things, and savored glasses of wine, I find myself juggling menus and making concessions to my restrictions rather than approaching my meal and the company of my friends with any real joie de vivre – it sucks, guys. After almost four months, any sort of novelty has been replaced with grim sadness in the face of “forever”.

So at 20 pounds less than I was, I’m no happier than we when I started – I’ve just added something else to worry and fret and fixate on. Thinking my darkening ponytail and glasses might be contributing factors, I did as I promised I would and shed them in favor of my contacts and lighter hair. I’m happy with how I look in the mirror, probably happier than I have been in the past – but that’s not because I’m thinner, blonder, less glasses-wearing, it’s because in order to do these things I get up a little bit earlier, have more time with myself, eat breakfast, read some – all things that by their very nature center me and make me feel good. Outside of this,  nothing in my life has changed for the better.

Here’s why I’m not quitting – outside of the fact that I’m naturally, quite stubborn – I don’t know how much of what I’ve written above is true, or how much is a product of me having weighed in this week and discovered that I lost no weight. GASP.

Throughout the course of this experiment, when it has been challenging or when the conclusion has seemed so obvious that the experiment seems redundant, I was always looking at a decreasing number on the scale and marking it as progress. To see less of yourself on a scale and view it as progress is a laughably tragic way to mark progress of any sort, but I was doing it. While I was fairly assessing my experiment so far, I was failing to include the simple fact that continuing to lose weight, being “successful” at it, made me feel happy – the dieter’s high.

I’m not quitting because now is when it gets interesting – now is when we see how continuing to lead the dieting life in spite of successful returns impacts the dieter. If my thoughts above are any indication it means more than one visit to despair valley – not a fun place to be. It’s interesting to note that I was only proactive about doing my hair and putting in contacts when my weight-loss stalled, like I was so used to the high of altering my appearance for some warped idea of “the better” that I sought it out any way I could.

Closing Observations:

  • I have started to have a panic-like sensations come over me when confronted with the idea of “special occasions” when I would be “allowed” to take a day off and eat as I would normally. The panic I feel about these days has made it all the more important to me that I take them, though one hasn’t arisen yet – the healthy relationship I had been working to cultivate with food prior to this is something I cherish and I don’t want it to become a casualty of this project.
  • I haven’t been to the gym in a week – this isn’t good and might explain some of my down-in-the-dumps feelings. I do better when I exercise, and I need to find the time for that, no matter how hectic my schedule may be.
  • No Skinny Bitch dates to report, am trying to hook someone via online dating with little success – BECAUSE I AM THE BEST. If you are someone you know is a dude living in the New York City area (or even not and would like to have an internet date) and would like to be featured, then that shit is hilarious and please contact the site.

Oct 23rd:

Weight: 187 lbs.

18 lbs. lost

47 lbs. to go.