I stare at the food on my plate, being self conscious about my weight, because it reminds me of my body which I hate.
being called fat, by the middle school brat, I’d search on the internet of ways to make my stomach look more flat.
I hate the idea of having to eat food, putting my mindset in a starving mood, convincing myself that losing weight would be good.
exploring new ways to diet, every time people would check in with me, I’d keep quiet.
over working my body with exercise, gave me a smaller size, which made me feel like a prize in front of all the guys.
every time I get on the scale, the numbers reveal that I’m frail, causing me to scream and wail.
the girl in the reflection, has a different definition of perfection, causing her to go down the wrong direction.
comparing myself with what’s on the media, I stop eating to meet there criteria.
choosing to not eat, my mind and body would compete, gaining bad habits which were put on repeat.
shoving fingers down my throat, watching all my food in the toilet float, bluimia started to be my antidote.
having no food to get out, I decided it was time to take a new route.
anorexia became my new addiction, which helped me with my food restriction, causing this to be my life’s affliction.