Comments Posted By rock bottom
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95 calories. no, 100. who are we kidding? 150. toomuchtoomuchtoomuch.
i feel like i’m going to throw up. i don’t understand why my mother of all people, the very woman who is meant to love me no matter what, is doing this. it must be something i’ve said. it must be those jeans i bought, the really expensive ones. they must have been tighter than i thought they’d be. they must have made me look like the FAT PIG i am. and that wasn’t enough for her because she seems to have decided that she’s going to make me even fatter.
i feel the lump rising in my throat and the tears pricking my eyelids. the cold sweat is beginning to form in little beads on my hairline. my hands are shaking too much to even contemplate picking up the fork.
95, 100, 150. the numbers are jumbled in my head and make no sense. how much do i weigh again? 130? 120? 110? i genuinely don’t remember, i just know that it’s not enough and never will be.
toomuchtoomuchtoomuch. i can’t eat this. i can’t. i won’t. i’m not throwing everything i’ve worked so hard for away. no, fatty. don’t pick up the fork. don’t. don’t do this to yourself – OH GOD it smells so good. my stomach hurts. when was the last time i ate? this morning? last night? yesterday. i can’t resist. my stomach grumbles, ordering me to get a move on.
with shaking hands, i pick up the fork and shove the pasta into my mouth. just one more mouthful and then i’ll stop, i promise. one more. one more. god, it’s SO GOOD I WANT MORE I NEED MORE I’M HUNGRY. one more, and that’ll be it. i’ll exercise it off when i go home. i’ll fast tomorrow. i’ll do anything.
within a minute, the whole dish is gone and i feel sick. i look down at the plate and i am repulsed by it, by myself. i regret eating it almost instantly.
“wow, you must have been hungry!” my father says from across the table and i begin to hate myself even more. i know what he must be thinking. i know what they’re all thinking, what they all know is true but are too kind to admit to me. fat.
i look down at my now empty plate again. the sauce and smell now make me want to throw up. the taste of basil in my mouth and the cramps in my stomach make me want to curl up into a ball and never leave my room again.
95 calories. 100. 150. toomuchtoomuchtoomuch.
» Posted By rock bottom On 05.09.2015 @ 3:20 pm