Beginning Of My Disease
September 20th, 2010 10:42pm
Today was the first time I’ve ever forced myself to puke.
I stared at myself naked in the mirror, disgusted in what I saw. I could see a trace of hipbone, but it wasn’t nearly as defined as I wanted it to be. From a side angle my stomach seemed to bulge out more than normal, and unlike beautiful girls, my thighs touched. My calves weren’t frail enough and just made my legs look wider. I wanted to get rid of all the ugliness that I saw to be myself, staining into my skin.
So I grabbed an old toothbrush, kneeled on the cold tile floor in front of the toilet and shoved the end of the toothbrush to the back of my mouth. I wiggled the toothbrush there until I retched up chocolate and spaghetti that I had not too long ago gorged myself with. It took me multiple times of throwing up small amounts; rising puke off my fingers and the end of the toothbrush to even to begin to start feeling satisfied and that I had ridded enough disgusting fat from my body. I had even gone as far enough to turn on the shower to assure myself that no one in the house would hear a sound from me and come to check on me. I felt as if I was doing it wrong, that it shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did to rid my body of it, but there isn’t really a book on how to be bulimic, now is there?
When I was finished and stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes were brimmed with red and my cheeks were stained heavily in tears. I just felt worse that I had before I’d exhaustedmyself over the rim of the toilet. The smell of toilet water seemed to stay with me as I laid with my face into the bed, letting my body get out every ounce of fear I had in me in streams of tears.
I think that today, what I did, is the start of something. In a way I’m scared, but also happy. A dance with this devil for the reward of actually being attractive? I’m willing to step into the flames of the fire.
So I guess this means that I’m going to drastically cut down my calorie intake. I’ve got to be careful; and make sure that no one around me takes time to notice, which I shouldn’t have a problem with that on the home front. If I drink a ton of water and run and puke whenever I feel as if I have gone over my limit, that should be enough. Maybe I can become something that another may possible want.
Because maybe I deserve it, to be pretty.
So I’m going to trade whatever soul I have left after all of these years for a shred of happiness.
I stared at myself naked in the mirror, disgusted in what I saw. I could see a trace of hipbone, but it wasn’t nearly as defined as I wanted it to be. From a side angle my stomach seemed to bulge out more than normal, and unlike beautiful girls, my thighs touched. My calves weren’t frail enough and just made my legs look wider. I wanted to get rid of all the ugliness that I saw to be myself, staining into my skin.
So I grabbed an old toothbrush, kneeled on the cold tile floor in front of the toilet and shoved the end of the toothbrush to the back of my mouth. I wiggled the toothbrush there until I retched up chocolate and spaghetti that I had not too long ago gorged myself with. It took me multiple times of throwing up small amounts; rising puke off my fingers and the end of the toothbrush to even to begin to start feeling satisfied and that I had ridded enough disgusting fat from my body. I had even gone as far enough to turn on the shower to assure myself that no one in the house would hear a sound from me and come to check on me. I felt as if I was doing it wrong, that it shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did to rid my body of it, but there isn’t really a book on how to be bulimic, now is there?
When I was finished and stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes were brimmed with red and my cheeks were stained heavily in tears. I just felt worse that I had before I’d exhaustedmyself over the rim of the toilet. The smell of toilet water seemed to stay with me as I laid with my face into the bed, letting my body get out every ounce of fear I had in me in streams of tears.
I think that today, what I did, is the start of something. In a way I’m scared, but also happy. A dance with this devil for the reward of actually being attractive? I’m willing to step into the flames of the fire.
So I guess this means that I’m going to drastically cut down my calorie intake. I’ve got to be careful; and make sure that no one around me takes time to notice, which I shouldn’t have a problem with that on the home front. If I drink a ton of water and run and puke whenever I feel as if I have gone over my limit, that should be enough. Maybe I can become something that another may possible want.
Because maybe I deserve it, to be pretty.
So I’m going to trade whatever soul I have left after all of these years for a shred of happiness.