I was 124 this morning.
I keep telling myself it's my period waiting to start. But that doesn't make it better.
My appetite has sky rocketed. I just ate four slices of pizza, five chicken kickers, and half a large brownie. On top of the two slices of 50 cal toast with full fat butter and scrambled eggs I've eaten today.
Then I went and paid homage to Mia.
Sometimes, I wake up.
I'll be standing over the toilet. My fingers shoved down my throat. And I'm still me. I stop. Shaking my head like a dog. Make weird noises and stretch mouth as I prepare myself for another round of self-induced-gagging, and make odd comments to the graffiti on the walls. "Yeah, bitch, just like sucking your mom's dick!"
Then I dab at my face as delicately as I was taught with a rolled up wad of toilet paper, my pinky sticking out as my mother taught me in my etiquette lessons, before carefully folding the toilet paper, dabbing off the sputum from my finger, and then delving it back into my esophagus.
And then, as I'm stroking that flap of skin, making strange faces as I try to avoid scratching that delicate flesh with my nail....I stop, and think, "What in the hell am I doing?"
Then it hits.
The vomit comes.
Small mouthfuls at a time.
And I know what I'm doing.
But I don't process it.
It's an action that has no thought. It just is. I can't consider it. Can't really question it. If I do, the guilt hits, and when the guilt comes, so, too, comes the anxiety, and the anxiety brings with it food, and terrible self hatred, and eventually, cradling another bottle of store-bought sleeping pills to my breast.
I wonder what people would think if they knew.
Then I don't wonder anything at all.
I just do it.
It makes the anxiety better for a little bit.
I stop. Not when it's all out, but because I tell myself to. The toilet is full, my throat is aching. I think, "If I stop before it's all out, then it's not laziness. It's control. I start when I want, end when I want." Just like I first thought when I stopped eating.
"It's not anorexia, or an eating disorder. It's an experiment. I can stop whenever I want."
Or like I tell myself from time to time.
"I can eat normal whenever I want to. I just don't want to, yet."
....sweet denial. How you taste of salt and vinegar and bile on my tongue, wrapping me up in the warmth of your lies.
I'm so tired.
I want to go purge more.
I just want to go to sleep.