Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
New Non Eating Regime
Of course, you don't just decide not to eat just like that. You decide not to eat anything and then suddenly an opportunity to eat something wonderful will come along. Even if it's only a boiled egg and two pieces of toast dribbled with butter, it can appear to be the thing you were craving all along.
Then comes the bargaining. I'll just have a bit, if I don't eat then I'll get ill, or someone will notice what I'm doing. The thing is, if you're careful, no one takes a whole lot of notice.
I carried on my breakfast routine as before.
Taking enough food from cereal boxes or the bread basket to make it look like I was having enough, and then throwing it away on the way to school. On Saturday mornings my Mum is never around with her new routine, so they're easier anyway. Sunday mornings will be the hardest but my Mum and me still don't eat breakfast together so it's fine. She eats breakfast in bed now.
Lunch time is tricky at first because it's hard not to attract attention from people. So what I've started doing is buying the food and making it disappear from my plate. Lifting it to my mouth, pretending to be engrossed by the conversation, slowly letting it drop to the floor or into my pocket or school bag. Messing the food up on my plate so it looks like it's been lovingly touched.
For the first few days it's been relatively easy because Bridget still isn't speaking to me.
She'll come into the canteen, barely glance at me and Izzie and then go and sit with pretty Matthew Bryer and his friends over on the side of canteen nearest to the windows, a prime location that they had grabbed early on in the year.
Izzie is easy to fool because she rarely eats anything at all either. Or if she does, she'll just pick at a roll absentmindedly, only occasionally remembering to put pieces into her mouth or nibble delicately at a Twix. I mimic her as best I can without actually taking anything in.
Bridget came up to me earlier on though and tried to make up but I acted like I was still in my troubled haze and incapable of speaking to her properly. I feel bad but for some reason I need to push Bridget away. Because I know she'll recognize what I'm doing and she'll try to make me stop. Izzie won't because Izzie won't see that what I'm doing is a problem.
Perhaps for all these years that we've been friends, it's escaped my notice that Izzie has the same problem.
Who am I to know what goes on in Izzie's head? She could be just as insecure as me deep down but just refuse to ever let anyone see what it does to her. Having said that, she has always been thin, for as long as I've known her. Although, she might keep it that way by doing what I'm about to do.
Anyway, my will has to be iron. I know that it will continue to be hard but the first few days have been so unbelievably hard. Yes, with Izzie not commenting on it, that's easier than Bridget who would certain notice and ask me about it.
But simply not eating a thing is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. The last three days I've woken up exhausted, even after going to sleep relatively early to avoid talking to my Mum and having to snack with her in front of the TV. My stomach is rumbling more now and I feel that even before I refused to eat anything on Monday, I hadn't had a proper meal in a long time. At least eight days.
The weight should be falling off me but it's not. If anything, it seems to be clinging on harder. I don't understand how I can feel bloated when I've barely touched food in over a week. It makes no sense.
In the beginning I tried searching online for tips on being anorexic. Sounds crazy, doesn't it?
But when it's something you want, it happens. I know I shouldn't want to develop an eating disorder. Believe me if there had been a simpler way, I would have found it. I really feel like this is my only chance.
Every now and again, I remember an irritating little fact. Like how your body starts to eat stored up fat when you begin to starve; that most of the weight that comes off initially is water weight. I don't even know what water weight is. Aren't humans ninety per cent water? So presumably, if your water weight is coming off, that's a big chunk of your body.
Something tells me this thinking isn't right. But then what about this is right? In a perfect world, I would have been born like Izzie and been naturally skinny. Or grown up like Bridget and just not cared so much. But I'm not them, I'm me and I can't help feeling like I am fat.
Perhaps people would look at me and call me selfish. Tell me I'm dramatizing all this to get attention because my Dad has disappeared or that I'm jealous of how my Mum was prettier when she was my age or that my best friend Izzie can have any guy she wants whilst I still starve and over think everything, trying to romanticize my insignificant existence with fashionable illnesses. So I can fashion an artificial body by scraping the fat off my bones by force.
Well, you know what? If it leads me to happiness, or Marcus, or just feeling better about being inside my own fucking skin, then yes. I am fully behind my disgusting, mentally disturbed new non-eating regime.
Then comes the bargaining. I'll just have a bit, if I don't eat then I'll get ill, or someone will notice what I'm doing. The thing is, if you're careful, no one takes a whole lot of notice.
I carried on my breakfast routine as before.
Taking enough food from cereal boxes or the bread basket to make it look like I was having enough, and then throwing it away on the way to school. On Saturday mornings my Mum is never around with her new routine, so they're easier anyway. Sunday mornings will be the hardest but my Mum and me still don't eat breakfast together so it's fine. She eats breakfast in bed now.
Lunch time is tricky at first because it's hard not to attract attention from people. So what I've started doing is buying the food and making it disappear from my plate. Lifting it to my mouth, pretending to be engrossed by the conversation, slowly letting it drop to the floor or into my pocket or school bag. Messing the food up on my plate so it looks like it's been lovingly touched.
For the first few days it's been relatively easy because Bridget still isn't speaking to me.
She'll come into the canteen, barely glance at me and Izzie and then go and sit with pretty Matthew Bryer and his friends over on the side of canteen nearest to the windows, a prime location that they had grabbed early on in the year.
Izzie is easy to fool because she rarely eats anything at all either. Or if she does, she'll just pick at a roll absentmindedly, only occasionally remembering to put pieces into her mouth or nibble delicately at a Twix. I mimic her as best I can without actually taking anything in.
Bridget came up to me earlier on though and tried to make up but I acted like I was still in my troubled haze and incapable of speaking to her properly. I feel bad but for some reason I need to push Bridget away. Because I know she'll recognize what I'm doing and she'll try to make me stop. Izzie won't because Izzie won't see that what I'm doing is a problem.
Perhaps for all these years that we've been friends, it's escaped my notice that Izzie has the same problem.
Who am I to know what goes on in Izzie's head? She could be just as insecure as me deep down but just refuse to ever let anyone see what it does to her. Having said that, she has always been thin, for as long as I've known her. Although, she might keep it that way by doing what I'm about to do.
Anyway, my will has to be iron. I know that it will continue to be hard but the first few days have been so unbelievably hard. Yes, with Izzie not commenting on it, that's easier than Bridget who would certain notice and ask me about it.
But simply not eating a thing is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. The last three days I've woken up exhausted, even after going to sleep relatively early to avoid talking to my Mum and having to snack with her in front of the TV. My stomach is rumbling more now and I feel that even before I refused to eat anything on Monday, I hadn't had a proper meal in a long time. At least eight days.
The weight should be falling off me but it's not. If anything, it seems to be clinging on harder. I don't understand how I can feel bloated when I've barely touched food in over a week. It makes no sense.
In the beginning I tried searching online for tips on being anorexic. Sounds crazy, doesn't it?
But when it's something you want, it happens. I know I shouldn't want to develop an eating disorder. Believe me if there had been a simpler way, I would have found it. I really feel like this is my only chance.
Every now and again, I remember an irritating little fact. Like how your body starts to eat stored up fat when you begin to starve; that most of the weight that comes off initially is water weight. I don't even know what water weight is. Aren't humans ninety per cent water? So presumably, if your water weight is coming off, that's a big chunk of your body.
Something tells me this thinking isn't right. But then what about this is right? In a perfect world, I would have been born like Izzie and been naturally skinny. Or grown up like Bridget and just not cared so much. But I'm not them, I'm me and I can't help feeling like I am fat.
Perhaps people would look at me and call me selfish. Tell me I'm dramatizing all this to get attention because my Dad has disappeared or that I'm jealous of how my Mum was prettier when she was my age or that my best friend Izzie can have any guy she wants whilst I still starve and over think everything, trying to romanticize my insignificant existence with fashionable illnesses. So I can fashion an artificial body by scraping the fat off my bones by force.
Well, you know what? If it leads me to happiness, or Marcus, or just feeling better about being inside my own fucking skin, then yes. I am fully behind my disgusting, mentally disturbed new non-eating regime.
♠ ♠ ♠
It makes me so sad that some people have to go through life feeling like this.