‘What a waste’ I thought.
Forty five pounds on a next-day delivery ASDA shop and I just donated half of it to the toilet.
Two more days and I’ll be back on their website spending more in the hope it’ll last me longer this time.
See, the food is SO good…
For about fifteen minutes
And then it’s just regret.
It’s looking in the mirror at your protruding stomach and realising even the drain pipes need those calories more than you do.
And before you know it you’re running the bath taps and taking your rings off for the third time that day.
It’s the perfect solution when you think about it!
I can eat as MUCH as I want, whenever I want and lose more weight than if I ate nothing at all.
I have to steady myself every time I stand now,
And my face seems to have adopted a dull, grey complexion
But that’s a SMALL price to pay for the easiest method of weight loss.
That, and the marks on my knuckles that I renew so often I’m starting to wonder if they’ve scarred.
The stress of working an eight hour shift and not knowing if you’ll make it to the end without an ambulance being called.
The desperation when all your housemates are home,
Or you’re visiting family,
And you have to come to terms with the fact that,
‘No, you CAN’T eat the whole kitchen right now, no matter HOW hungry you are without seeing the whole kitchen on the scales the following morning’.
The little red dots that have accumulated around my eyes,
The random aches and pains,
The fear people will find out…
The WISHING they would just so someone would know how hard you’re trying.
Maybe the ‘easiest’ method was the wrong term.
But, still!
I can’t help but feel lucky that the pizza I just devoured won’t make it to my stomach like it will with my best friend.
The same satisfaction with none of the consequences.
You see,
I REALLY love food.
But I’m not supposed to until I’m thin enough that people think I deserve it.
Apr 22, 2022
Apr 22, 2022 at 1:16 PM UTC
You talk about your own insecurities so much I mistook them for my own
Started finding fault in the way the skin on my arms sagged, too
And the way my stomach stuck out under my high-waisted jeans that I only wear because you taught me that low-waisted jeans weren’t for ‘girls like me’
Or was it ‘women like you’?
I don’t quite remember now.
I lost a bunch of weight but I still won’t wear leggings out in public
Because you told me ‘no fat girl should ever wear leggings’
And even though I’m nearly 60lbs lighter
I’m sure I still bear a resemblance to those girls you made fun of from your car for being too fat for a piece of clothing
I remember you printed off your before and after weight loss picture one year
You were stood in front of a Christmas tree in the second photo
As if weight loss was the present you were most grateful for
So I take a lot of progress photos myself nowadays
In fact, I honour the family name even more by making sure I, too lose the weight by only eating a salad a day
How good of you to teach me how to be ‘healthy’
You make a point of mentioning just how good I look every time I finally bite the bullet and visit you
Which I wouldn’t be offended by if you didn’t add ‘compared to last year’ to the end of that compliment
You feel the need to insult yourself after congratulating me on how well I’ve done
You say you’ve just been SO lazy lately
Is it laziness?
Or are you finally eating three meals a day without punishing yourself?
Why would I ever want to recover when my own mother equates recovery to idleness?
I didn’t realise how true the phrase ‘like mother like daughter’ was until I adopted the same fear foods as you
When I only ate till I was full when I was alone
And when I watched ‘my 600lb life’ every time I craved crisps
You taught me so much, mum
Not trivial things like how to nourish my body but the truly revolutionary stuff
Like how much abuse my body can endure without breaking down entirely
How your happiness and your health don’t matter all that much in comparison to how much space you take up
And how you can never, ever let people see a double chin or the fat on your arms in photos
God forbid you show any signs of enjoying food
Most importantly, you taught me that regardless of my grades
How hard I work to keep two jobs,
And the effort it takes to get out of bed some days,
The only thing that matters,
The ONLY thing that’s worth anything in this life of mine
Is the number on the scale I climb onto every morning
And I guess you were a good teacher
Because that will stay with me forever.
Apr 22, 2022
Apr 22, 2022 at 1:06 PM UTC
Black coffee.
Black coffee with 0 calorie sweetener.
Green tea.
Naked rice.
Yes, naked.
Or in other words deprived of every bit of nutrients.
Pepsi Max.
Pepsi Max cherry.
Chemicals. But not calories.
Heaven forbid you'd drink calories!
Soup.
Spring Vegetable Soup.
But not vegetable soup.
Not tomato soup.
They're 50 calories more at least!
ONLY spring vegetable soup.
Apple.
Only one.
That's a whole meal.
10,000 steps.
At least 10,000 steps.
What are you, lazy?
If you're not walking every second of the day then you must be.
Size 0.
Even if you're not
Buy all clothes in size 0.
You can't wear pretty clothes until you've lost that weight.
Lies.
No, you can't be honest.
How attention-seeking can you get!
Tumblr.
Tumblr is the Bible.
But only the thinspo community.
The rest is irrelevant.
If you ignore all my advice and eat
make sure you do it slowly.
One small bite every 5 minutes.
And don't you dare distract yourself while eating
I'm not going to let you for another 24 hours so you'd better savour every moment.
Craving more food?
Drink some water and get a grip.
Thinking about giving up?
Watch me make you feel the worst you've ever felt.
Try me.
Envelopes.
Sellotape them.
You never know how many calories are in the seal.
Don't. Trust. Anything.
The package says that 100g of grapes is 70 calories?
Call it 400 just to be safe.
You read an article about the dangers of restriction?
Don't believe everything you read.
Believe me.
I'm your best friend.
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 1:44 PM UTC
Lately, when I look at my reflection,
it feels like someone else looking back.
I'm staring into the depths of my bathroom mirror at a shell of a person.
Alive and living but with none of the hobbies and plans that gave her that glimmer in her eyes.
No excitement, no anticipation for the future,
just memories, and even those are falling from her grasp.
It's like the world has been paused.
She's like the main character of the show you watched a couple of episodes of and swore you'd go back to and watch the rest but never did.
She's unfinished. Waiting for someone, something to press play.
There must be some more storyline to get to.
She's begging you for the chance.
Begging you to let her go out and get drunk in the middle of her town and kiss a random bloke she's never met before.
To let her stumble into the bathroom of her favourite pub and try her best to console a girl she's never met before that's crying over her boyfriend not giving her any attention.
To let her sit in the passenger seat of her best friends' Mini Cooper shouting the lyrics to some song that reminds her of her ex.
To go back to her family members and hug them three times as hard.
Begging you to let her live.
Because this... This isn't living.
This is existing.
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 3:15 PM UTC
I think the worst kind of feelings are the ones you can't explain.
Because they're too worrying a statement to pile onto your Year 11 English teacher on a Tuesday morning.
Too honest to even make it to her from your mouth which never dared speak those words before unless it had to.
And although you can be sat at home alone
with your head in your hands
telling yourself it's necessary to open up,
a matter of urgency,
when the time comes
and your teacher asks you exactly what you mean by 'I can't do this anymore'
you stare at your hands,
because it's easier to lie to them,
and the only words you can force from your lips are 'I don't know'.
Because the alternative to explaining
is letting it destroy you
and somehow that seems easier.
But still
as you lift your head and look into your teacher's eyes as she tells you 'you don't have to do anything, you just have to live'
you desperately wish she knew how hard that is for you
How something that comes so easily to her
is something you don't think you can manage to do anymore.
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 3:46 PM UTC
When I was sat in my hospital bed I thought things were going to go back to the way they were.
I felt like I'd been given a chance to escape from this cruel reality, and I had messed it up. Like I mess everything up.
But the minute I left those hospital doors, things started to change. My mum was desperate to make me happy. And cafe trips and random presents were the result of that. My brother hugged me for the first time since we were little and had to have those soppy family photos that I laugh at now because of how staged they were. He even asked me if I was okay. And he didn't try to start pointless arguments. He just agreed with me.
Everyone was walking on eggshells around me. But I felt cared for. And loved. And not alone with my thoughts. After all the sharing I'd had to do, it still felt like I was at war with my mind, but I had an army of family and friends with me to fight it. Even when I caved in, they'd keep fighting on my behalf. But I refused to cave in because everyone was looking at me like their leader, expecting me to get us to the end of this war. And I didn't want to let them down. Not again.
In the months that followed I started getting used to the small gestures of encouragement from people that didn't really know what to say to me. I got used to spending time with my family and not just with the four walls of my bedroom. I got used to being watched. And I got used to not hating it.
But after a while it died down, like I expected it to. But I didn't expect it to be such a shock.
When for so long I'd felt like I had no one to turn to, suddenly everyone was there. And everyone was lovely. And I was reminded of the reasons why this war was worth all the casualties. Because victory would bring a future of love and friendship.
But when people got used to me being around again, and the idea that I might not have been around faded, people started to back away. Started to mask their love behind petty arguments and stopped being around as much. The four walls of my bedroom became my only company on some days again. And it came as a surprise to me when people did seem to care.
Such open hostility was a shock after months of people tip-toeing around me.
And it really shows that people take their loved ones for granted. They get used to having them around. Used to seeing them everyday. Used to not seeing them but knowing they're there. And that's why it's so easy for depression to creep in. Everyone is so occupied with their own wars, that they dont have time to stick around with you in yours, and they don't notice when you're losing.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 6:26 AM UTC
If you ask me any questions, I'm only going to lie
What? You actually believed me when I told you I was fine?
Don't you know that's what I tell everyone, all the time?
It's starting to become my favourite line.
See, the fact that you fall for my sickly sweet smile,
Tells me you haven't actually bothered to look closely for a while
Cause my eyes would have told you about my destructive lifestyle
And about the scars on my skin that stretch for miles
Or at least that something was seriously wrong
But you didnt bother to look that long
So instead I'll seek help from another sad song
And I'll convince myself I'm staying alive because I'm strong.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
I have always wanted to be perfect.
Once upon a time
it seemed like such an achievable goal
because I believed that perfection sat at the back of my throat
waiting each night for me to reach in and grab her after dinner.
But I soon realised
with scarred knuckles, yellow teeth, a scratchy voice and the same body I'd had all along
that perfection was not something I could achieve by cheating.
It was then that I started to see perfection sitting at the top of the hill 4 miles away from my house.
And in the black coffee I would cradle in my hands before I set off to that hill at 5am
And on the scale when I only had one foot on
And in the size 6 jeans I'd bought by accident, once
And in everybody else but me
I was dying to get my hands on perfection
But she just kept getting further away
Getting smaller each time I saw her.
But with a face as pale as daisy petals, numbers in the notes on my iPad, bruised knees and the blurriness behind my eyes,
I continued to chase what I thought was my only chance of being loved.
I chased her all the way to the approving messages, the smiles in the corridor by people who hadn't done that before and people's questions of just how I'd managed to get so healthy.
But I didn't stop there.
I chased her to the collar bones that caught raindrops, the spine that hurt against chairs, the gap between my thighs that seemed to stretch for miles and the defined cheekbones that cut into my once-so-plump cheeks.
I chased her to the clumps of hair on my pillow in the morning, to the cold shivers on a hot summer's day, to the baggy size 6 clothes and to the aches in my joints at night.
I chased her to the concerned faces and the offerings of other people's lunch. To the ground when I'd stood up too quickly and to the skipped periods.
And then to the hospital.
I chased her all the way to my death bed and yet still she did not come to visit me.
She was not with me when I looked down at my skeletal body.
And she was not with me when I caught a glimpse of myself in the patient bathroom mirror.
But she was with every other patient I came across, and she was with the nurse, and she was with every family and friend that came to tell me I hadn't needed to chase her that long because she did not exist.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 5:16 AM UTC
I was 11 years old when I first self harmed.
11 years old and punishing myself for just being me.
In the years that followed
I forgot what it was like to feel okay inside my own body.
I was always trying to cut it open
As if all the fat and ugly would pour out of it and down the plug hole in my shower.
But soon,
It became more than just hating myself.
Somehow, it turned into an addiction...
A routine.
I would sit there with a deadpan face
And stare into space
As I sliced my skin open and felt that familiar sting
Sometimes, I would have so much time but not enough skin on my hips and thighs
So I would venture elsewhere
Knees, calves, feet, arms, wrists, stomach.
Until my favourite outfit was now the one I couldn’t wear anymore.
Self harm was my secret.
The one thing that could help me focus my mind on something other than the thoughts that consumed it every second of every day
But suddenly,
It wasn’t just my thing anymore.
Other people were making friends with my secret.
They were making friends with it and parading round school with it and showing everyone they knew
Claiming ownership and collecting all the donations of sympathy that were thrown at the scars on their wrists
And I felt betrayed.
That was my secret first and they had stolen it from me and turned it into a topic to be discussed and a tourist attraction that everyone was dying to see.
It was no longer my secret and me
It was my secret and the world’s philocaly
And just me
Just me stood with the rest of the world
In awe of other people’s scars
When once I had been in awe of my own
All the while I wore the long sleeves and never went to the beach
And always got changed in the toilets for PE
And I tried to remind myself
That my secret was still my own and it was safer with me
Than it was feeding the world’s intrigue.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
Exams.
Longing for the future when I can be free
Of AQA and Edexcel
And these grades I only wish I could be
Everyone takes it differently
Like a tablet some struggle to swallow
They panic,
Giving themselves even more of a headache than before
They've worked so hard that their peers are in awe
But their heads were hurting them
And yet nobody saw
And just like with a headache, they struggle to look at the light
They'd rather be in the dark whether it's day or night
Focusing on the negatives, nothing positive in sight
If society didn't finish them off, exams might
They search for a solution,
Think they'll find it through control
But their hearts are so tired and so are their souls
So instead of controlling their stress they only make it worse
With the unhealthy coping mechanisms they start to rehearse
'I'm too busy', 'I have no time', 'there's too much to do'
To socialise, sleep and even eat food
To you it might sound odd,
But under this stress these ideas are easy to pursue
Control the things you can, ignore the other few
After all, what have you got to lose?
After exams have finished, this still carries on
If anything this need for control has only just begun,
Originally the compulsive thoughts were just due to stress
But now the lies and routines have become kind of fun
You know at this point that you're kind of a mess
But you quite like it and to be honest you couldn't care less
You're addicted to the way it makes you feel
Somehow not looking after yourself makes you seem more real
It reminds you that your life is in your own hands
And how strong you can become by skipping your meals
For others, its different
They seem completely unaware
About the importance of grades for their future
Or maybe they just don't care
The reality hasn't hit them,
Maybe it will when it's too late
But at least they've saved themselves from getting in a state
They've been kind to themselves, not developed the same self-hate
As the people that have tried so hard to be great
Those people might have the grades
but they don't have their health
They've walked out of school feeling the worst they've ever felt
This just shows that some people can't cope
Exams make them feel like their isn't any hope
The government may as well have handed them the rope
To tie around their little 16 year old throats
Maybe I'm being dramatic,
Trying to find someone to blame
And I know that not everyone will feel the same
But I'm trying to tell you that the ones that do
Need help and support so that they can make it through
'They're just exams' you say, but it's the world to them
And sometimes exams cause lives to end
And I don't want to lose my friends
So let's remind these students that their minds will mend
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC