Sat in a committee meeting with friends and colleagues and I get that cramp which can only mean one thing. I’m sure most of you will know the feeling of diarrhoea from having a stomach bug, now imagine giving it to yourself on purpose. I had to take them, just in case I didn’t get everything out. The cramps come first, then the overwhelming need to go to the loo… If I could just find the right moment to leave. It gets unbearable, I have to go. I wonder why I do this to myself. But I know why. I have to. If I don’t I’ll be fat. Noting is worse than being fat.
I feel so awful about myself. Stupid. Worthless. Fat.
Why can’t I be normal?
So when they bring out the pizza and crisps I binge myself, again. Right in front of them, but they don’t notice. How could they? To everyone around me I’m a normal girl. To those who know (few and far between) I’m dying, killing myself and I can’t stop. Food is my drug. I can’t get rid of it, I’d die. I can’t keep eating it, I’ll end up dead too. Or fat. If I said I didn’t know what one was worse I’d be lying. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’d rather be dead than fat.
Don’t feel sorry for me, I’m fine.
Don’t try and stop me, I’m fine.
I don’t deserve it.
FINE: Fat, Insecure, Not Enough.