She paused. Again. Hoping to gain another strength before she forces all these wastes out of her. One last sigh before she sticks her ******* into her throat and let her body pay for all the gluttonous thrills she can’t help with. For having that omnipresent urge win over her and throw her into a feast. That is the absolute worst. Because that’s when waves of regrets come flushing to her. She feels so panicky like the world’s falling apart. And now her eyes is watering with tears, her throat is sore with all the strain it has gone through, her abdominal muscles aching as it repeatedly contracts. She is stuck in this endless cycle of being deprived and depressed, drowning herself in sinful indulgence, feeling a tremendous loss of control, filling her self with unforgiving remorse and finally hurling those horrible monsters she just opened her doors for. But it’s the only key to make her hate herself less when she looks in the mirror. It’s the only convenient solution to experience the stuff she has been dying to taste without harming her goals. Everybody talks about positivity and loving yourself but she lacks the ability to stress how hard it is. She’s at the point in her life where she can not be okay with how her thighs look like wearing jeans, how it’s just as big as her father’s who is taller and more muscular than her, how she gives the best smile she thought she projected in photos and looking more like her whole face is swelling. How she goes crazy terrified of some numbers that increased. She did not know what they said bore far more greater value until those moments. It waved flags right into her face and snapped her into the reality of how hideous she has become.  And now she met metamorphosis. Those comparisons that drive her to run fifteen extra minutes to her half-hour routine, that made her enjoy exhausting herself knowing that she will burn more especially with a bit of calories to arm herself. Quite often, she wakes up in the middle of the night, belly’s screaming with gnawing sensations and she can’t deny she is very glad of it because she knows when she steps on it tomorrow morning, more will be lost. It signifies hope is coming and let me tell you, it FUELS her. She has learned that the only way is to make those numbers go down. Those numbers that define her. Those numbers that equal her self-worth. Those goal numbers that she believes when she finally reach, will be the only thing that could give her the ecstasy that she desires. Because with every intake, she felt emptier and with an empty stomach, she sensed fulfilment. Alternating between these two universes she ultimately craves, where in one, she takes absolute joy without ever feeling guilty in finishing her medium rare steak to the bone and the other where she wears herself out hoping to be closer in shedding the unnecessary, excess part of her to the bone.