Saturday, April 24, 2010
He looked at me.
More than just out of my league.
Muscles. Attractive. Smooth voice. Deep tone. Fit as could be, muscles in his stomach shaped out of stone.
I did too...
...then caught his eyes on me again, staring with appreciation.
But my stomach felt fat.
So I wrapped my arms around it. Smiled back, as convincingly as I could, wanting his attention, wanting to be seen by him as someone worthy of attention...but then I realized that hiding my stomach made my arms smash against my sides, and my arms looked fat.
So I let it go. Sucked in my stomach. Put my hands on my lower back.
But then I realized my shoulders looked fat.
So I put on my sweater. Glanced in the full length mirror...
...and realized it made my legs look big.
So I hid.
I ran away.
And I hid.
He was still looking after my arms had been fat. And my legs had been fat.
But I didn't want him to see me anymore.
I couldn't think of anything attractive for him to look at.
I can't run.
My leg is too screwed up.
I can't exercise.
Not real cardio.
I feel helpless.
Unable to feed my addiction.
Unable to change it.
I keep binging at night.
If I could stop that, things would better. I would lose the weight.
Just have to stop the night binging.
I can starve all day, but before bed, I break.
I'll have something worth looking at.
And I won't need to hide when someone looks at me.