Eating disorders are not always dainty, pretty models.

They’re not sticking one finger halfway into your mouth, to immediately get rid of everything.

Or not eating for one day and losing weight automatically. 

Eating Disorders are not going shopping with your friends and having a good time because you fit in the same size as them.
Eating disorders are laying on the floor of the shower willing yourself to just do it already.

It’s starring at the shower drain for so long that when you finally look up it’s highlighted on the tile wall.

Eating disorders are shoving all your fingers down your throat and scraping your knuckles on your teeth to only throw up an oz of what’s in your stomach— and so you repeat and repeat until your body shakes and your nose burns.

Eating disorders are crying as you look in the mirror because even if you reach your goal weight, you know that it won’t be enough.

Eating disorders are being so weak that you don’t want to go out, all you want to do is lay in bed until your stomach stops hurting.

It’s not wanting anyone to worry, but also wanting to know why your heart gets sharp pains through it sometimes.

Why your head always ******* hurts.

Or why you’re so exhausted all the time, why you fall asleep in class as soon as you set your head down- but when you lay down at night you can’t fall asleep because there are voices screaming at you to do better.

To eat less. 

To weigh less.

You say fat girls can’t have eating disorders.

When I longingly look at size 0, double zero jeans,
Doll clothes, for dainty ******* princesses,
And shopping becomes the newest form
of cruel and unusual punishment,
It’s okay.
Girls like me are like that,
and
Fat girls can’t have eating disorders.

When I skip a meal,
or two, or three,
Or live for a week on nothing but diet soda and apples,
I think nothing of it,
because
You say fat girls can’t have eating disorders.

When my fingers go down my throat,
shredding skin with ragged nails,
And I obsessively rid myself
of every
single
particle
I am not sick.
There is nothing wrong.
Because
You say fat girls can’t have eating disorders.

You look at me, at my ******* and thunder thighs,
and stretch marks from head to toe,
in all my imperfection
and tell me
Fat girls can’t have eating disorders.

You say fat girls can’t have eating disorders.
Maybe.
But really,
This is just my polite way of suicide.

The stomach pain is horrendous
The taste of dessert coming back
The look of disaster
stab me, choke me, **** me
The disapproval upon the faces
The miserable sounds in the background
The insecurity peaking out
save me, help me, rescue me
The choke before the gag
The spit before the rest
The death in my stomach
take me, be me, please
The blood in my gums
The ache in my throat
It's over–
I'm alright again.

EDNOS is:
 confusion.

-starving for days,
 then bingeing every day for a week.

-puking until you see blood, 
because you failed yet again.

-starving again, 
because you’re too fat to function.

-puking some more,
 because you’re not strong enough.
EDNOS is: 
manic.

-running for hours,
 because running makes you thin.

-exercising in the early morning,
because every minute counts.

-constantly fidgeting, 
because moving burns calories.

-counting calories like a pro,
 because everything has to be exact.

-organizing everything,
 because it calms you down.
EDNOS is:
 horrible.

-pulling your head out of the toilet,
with tears running down your face and puke all over.

-fake smiling at everyone,
 because no one would believe you if you were honest.

-your mind spinning 100miles/hour,
 because demons control your thoughts.

-comparing yourself to everyone you see,
 because you’re too fat to be a part of society.

-wanting to die every second, 
because you’re not perfect.
EDNOS is:
 me.

Beautiful and hungry,
They proclaim my fears.
They scream out of the darkness,
They whisper into my ears.

"A moment on the lips,
Adds ten pounds to your hips."

It rips into my sides,
It makes my stomach churn.
I guess I'll always think this way.
I guess I'll never learn.

knuckles rubbed raw by
teeth so sharp and blunt
a tongue rough and silent

violent retching
self-harm for a throat
already held by a noose

she promises
just

one more cookie
one last bite
one last calorie
one last breath
one

the toilet bowl is her best friend
and she hugs it close
when no one can hear

when you can actually feel the pain in your chest from seeing or hearing something that breaks your heart.
when you feel that pain rushing down to your stomach, making you *****, ***** out the broken peices..
when you've purged yourself of all feeling, and you feel your body slowly start to become numb.

Nowadays, we learn that size is everything

We learn not to believe in the comforting words of our peers,

We learn, thinner you are, the more you're worth.

It seems that we've become archeologists, because all we want to see are bones.

You are only valuable if we can see your bones.

And now, we see these kids who suffer in silence, who intentionally skip their meals, who take fingers to their throat, or go to the store to look for skinny pills and laxatives

It isn't something these kids can just stop,  it becomes part of them

It went from an experience to a habit.

From a habit to an addiction.
From an addiction and now a condition

A year later those same  kids are going to treatment for heart disease, ulcers, and eating disorders. They'll go to the dentist for their tooth enamel that no longer even exists

But how did they let it get this far?
How did WE let it get this far?

They begged and begged but little did they know how much they were really losing besides weight.

They have lost their time, their dignity, their self worth, their identities, and possibly their lives.

It wasn't their fault, they just wanted to be pretty

This should not be the cost of beauty.
Ever.