Okay so, I know what I said I'd update you about what's been going on in my uninteresting life, but holy gadzooks I'm am officially such a schmuck.

So there I was innocently writing some Christmas cards and my mum came in to see what I was up to so I showed her the cover of the cards that I got when suddenly she reached out for my arm and asked "What's this on your hand?" And immediately I whipped both my hands behind my back and said "Nothing".

And so she repeatedly asked me to show her my arms and I just kept shaking my hand furiously, thinking to myself how stupid I was to have not put my jacket sleeve down, and for how I careless I was, and how there is absolutely no way in hell I was going to get out of this one. My heart was hammering so much that I thought I was about to have a heart attack.

So my mother calmly just said that I could either show it to her now, or she'd wait til I'd fall asleep and see my arm because either way she's going to win and we both know it. And after a long while I just grudgingly brought my arm out to let her see the damning word words that I had cut on my forearm. She looked at it, and asked to see my other arm and then I put my arm on the table and she started to pull my jacket sleeve up and inspecting my entire arm and finally asked "Why?"

I wasn't sure if it was the calm way that she said it, or if its because I was so annoyed at myself that I got caught, or because I felt guilty, but I just couldn't muster the courage to say anything. But I managed to choke out "I was just not feeling happy" (Big Lie Number 1). Then she asked me if I knew what this was, and I said "Cutting." and the word just tasted like poison in my mouth. And it sounded so raw, like fingernails on a chalkboard. So now she asked me what I used to cut my arm, and I choked out "Erm, my pencil" (Big Lie Number 2), and there a long pause where we both said nothing to each other and I thought to myself, so this is what guilt really is like. Its painful silence.

And finally she said why such an intelligent girl like myself (me? intelligent? HAHA) would do something like this, and all I could just reply lamely was that I was just sad. And then she asked where else I did this and I told her none (Big Lie Number 3). She definitely didn't believe me because she reasoned that if I could do it on my arm, then I'd have the capability of doing it elsewhere, but what was I supposed to do? Lift up my shirt and let her see the damning evidence that she wants and doesn't want to see at the same time? So I just said no, I didn't do it anywhere else and that I'd really try not do it again (I really do mean this one).

And all this time while the conversation was going I couldn't look at her in the eye and instead focused my gaze on my laptop screen and pretending to log in to the URECA site to update my research hours (man I have got to log in more hours). And so finally she just said that she hoped that my visit to to psychologist would straighten things out and that I won't need to deal with this anymore, then she finally left and I just sat there like a rock trying to process everything that just happened. No doubt she's texting our family friend to tell her what she found out. I honesty am not bothered by what she tells him, but I just pray that she wouldn't tell my dad about this because given his strict conservative values, he'd definitely think I'm nuts and have issues (which technically I do), and in the extremist way.

All this drama is giving me a headache. I wish I were back in the security of my childhood, where I cared nothing about how much I weighed or how much I looked.

Back to my body image report. How ironic that I know the nuts and bolts about the mechanics of body image after weeks of researching, but I still cannot use the information to help my own self.