I do believe it's never-ending.
A friend thrust a link my way this morning, within which was discussed the theory that Byron was one of the first "celebrity diet icons". Fair enough, I thought, he was deeply admired; I can seen how that would work. Upon reading the rest of the article, however, I discovered that Byron actually had rather severe eating problems.
A man cursed with an Eating Disorder, his diet consisted of little more than potatoes soaked in vinegar (and biscuits, apparently, which I found to be most peculiar. Who diets on biscuits?!). After gathering his weights and height together, I discovered his BMI fluctuated between 17 and 27 (give or a take a few, depending on the accuracy of the figures provided for such calculations). It seems that dear George Gordon did everything to the extreme (perhaps not extreme enough at the lower end of the two, but extreme none the less).
I ask you this: how come every admirable, and indeed interesting, character in my life has flaunted Anorexia in my face at some point or another? I've been battling with ED for six years now, with both Anorexia and Bulimia weaved across that time; the last thing I need is for the ever-successful (and ever-rampant) Lord Byron to warp my thoughts. Alas, the wee bastard has already infiltrated his poison into my mind to such an extent that the roots are already planted. Thinspiration is my weakness, but never did I think I'd be saying such powers came from Byron. My life is barbaric.
Thanks Byron. Thanks a fucking lot.