What’d you have for lunch?
I don’t enjoy answering that question. I open my mouth to give a bullshit response hoping that the person hearing me doesn’t hear the shame that is carried with every word that comes out of my mouth. Fuck this question, even on the days I have eaten it is so humiliating that I have to share what I consumed.
I had a sandwich from the EUC
Lies. Liza Minelli Lies. I don’t carry my Anorexia as a badge of honor. If anything, it’s more like an ugly sweater you are forced to wear because it was a gift. I wear it on me with shame.
I don’t know what it is about Monday’s but it’s always the same routine. Monday is like my anorexic cheat day. Diet pills, calorie counting and purging. It’s like a give myself a day of control to start off my week because as the days go by, things always seem to be more chaotic. On Monday’s I always find myself looking back on a time where I didnt hide from people. When I didnt use my body as a weapon to protect me from reality. Just to eat lunch, to sit down, to pick a meal that I want without any outside influences and to taste it.
It’s not like I don’t like food. Well, depending on the day. But overall I actually love food. If I didnt, I wouldn’t waste my time to think and think and think about it. That’s the issue, I love food. It’s good but there is a limit for me. When I look at my life and all the stress, I don’t feel good. I don’t feel like I deserve something that is good for me because I am surrounded by situations that aren’t good for me. Food is a representation of what’s going on. I feel so restricted and forced into things that either I don’t agree with or situations that just hurt. So I starve myself. I allow the color to fade away from my cheeks. I allow the dizziness and the hunger pains. I allow the lies. I allow Anorexia to comfort me in ways that nobody else can.
So today I stay hungry, I lie to those around me and I continue to go down a path where the destination is a place I never want to go again.