in group therapy
they asked me
when was the last time
i can remember loving my body

i thought about it
for a few moments
was it when
i was in bed with a
random man at the bar
or the time
i won over a man i thought i needed
or what about that one time
i finally fit into a size 3 jeans

no no no
it was not any of those

the last time i can remember
loving my body
was the summer i turned 7
it was a hot summer day
my sister and mother
took me on the ferris wheel
and i was petrified

i did not care to be scared
or show that i was scared
i did not care to live freely
but we all know that does not last forever
life takes over
and
bad things happen
and men take advantage of our bodies
thinking they can own anything
even a little girls body

i think through all of this
over and over
before speaking the words
i cannot remember
the last time i loved my body

the hallway bathroom and i
have recently become close again
she is a friend to me
in all of the worst ways

when my body grows too big,
the bathroom is always there
waiting for me to come back
to need her again

when no one wants to see my tears
she cradles me in her arms
lets me sit on her marble tiles
lean close to her porcelain seat

i whisper secrets to her
let her see all of my tears
and she comforts me
lets me empty everything into her

she tells me what i am doing
is alright, it won’t hurt anyone
my secrets are safe with her
but i don’t feel safe with her

no one else will hear me
no one uses the hallway bathroom
maybe that is why
she always holds me so tightly

she whispers secrets back to me
every once and a while
she’ll tell me that she’s missed me
that it’s been too long

or she’ll say that i am finally back
where I belong
with her, but still alone
and sometimes she’ll even give helpful tips

“it’s easier to ***** if you plug your nose”
“if you try one more time, you’ll feel better,
despite the burn in your throat”
“just once more, remember to breath this time”

we have always had a strained relationship
the hallway bathroom and i
but i always seem to crawl back to her
and she is always ready for me

maybe i’ll throw up again

There are holes in my memory,
missing pieces of time
claimed by malnutrition.

It is a bitter pill to swallow,
knowing that my own actions
had such severe consequences.
Knowing that I so wholeheartedly believed
that what I was doing was right,
that it was what I deserved.

Losing pieces of myself
to an identity that did not belong to me.
A girl is not supposed to be a disorder
becoming nothing more than an illness personified.

Anorexia, bulimia, what difference does it make
When they're both coming out of my mouth like a big mistake?
Vile bile comes out of my mouth,
Pouring out like monsters screaming, "GET OUT!"
Maybe I developed B from A,
Both leaving me with nothing good to say.

The doctor said it wasn't healthy, my weight loss.
I told her it was just from vacation.
I told her I was just worried over nothing,
She gave me a hug and said she'd listen.
But, I didn't tell her anything.
No such white lies.

Just thinking about food makes me wanna *****.
Thinking about ***** makes me wanna do it.
So I do,
And I tried to get better.
Hell, did I try.
But I ******* can't.
And I'm sorry.

i finally told you:
i have bulimia.
at least, you caught on.
at least, you worried.
i'm sorry-i'm sorry, stop yelling, i love y