But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sensitive Stomachs Beware Okay, I know that I just typed a few hours ago, but I have to type this because it is totally strange for me. I decided that I might have to accept bulimia forever and give up anorexia. If no specialists believe in me, why do I continue to believe in myself. So I decided to binge again. I took my bro's last Hot Pocket, which I do feel bad about, and ate 2/3 of a pumkin pie that my mom baked, along with a quart of ice cream and 3 cups of Honey Nut Cheerios. I also drank a liter of Diet Coke and lay down for about 30 minutes to let all the food shift around in front of the X-Files. I became nervous and extremely guilty feeling. As soon as the commercial break came on I went to weigh myself. 106! Jeez, how much can my stomach take? I decided to march my disgusting ugly self outside in the cold, duck behind the pool kneeling on a towel, and begin the whole disgusting ordeal. I leaned over and jammed my two fingers down my throat. I was so bloated that nothing would come up, so I rammed my fist into my stomach. Nothing. Oh, no, I am going to do this or die. No more giving up. I deserve this. So I punched myself in my stomach and a stream of acid came up. Encouraged, I rammed my fingers down even harder, and another sploosh came up. I punch myself with one hand as the other wiggles the two fingers in my throat. Finally, a huge spurt of thick vomit emerges. Yes, I think. I keep my fingers down my throat and shove on my stomach. More vomit. Two thick streams. My stomach is flat. Lets see how far I can go. Ouch, my legs hurt. They have been cramped up for a few days, and my vision blurs a bit. I dry heave a few times, but know there has to be more. I jam my whole hand down my throat. There is a huge puddle of vomit on the rocks. I wonder how I am ever going to hide this. Then again, who cares. Disgustingly, it glistens in the moonlight. I punch myself as hard as I can, suck in, and jam my whole hand down my throat. I can't breathe. Finally, a huge thick spurt of vomit emerges. I know that this is the last. I feel so empty. I have to make sure though. I push in on my whole stomach and only dry heave. I am done. I am now so week, so tired, yet I am thrilled. Mission accomplished. I clean up, start a load of laundry soiled with vomit, and head to the scale. 100 pounds. Yes. Maybe, just maybe, I will get back to the weight I was a few months ago. 89 pounds. I vow to fast tomorrow, but I am no good at that anymore. Instead, I binge. I have no self-control because I am a slob. I don't care about anything anymore, and constantly live in fear of myself. Thats okay for now... No one cares if I die from this, at least very few, and those people are the only reason I have hung on this long. They are the reason for the few insulin injections I take, ( thanks Tali) the times I dont purge, (again, Tali) and the reason I actually still have an inch of hope, and I thank everyone who ever supported me or said a kind word to me. Thanks Val and Kim. Total strangers who send their best wishes and stay so kind to me, a person they don't even know. I guess that is all I have to say. I owe you all so much, and when I say thank you I truly mean it. Here is a list of people who I thank: Tali, Ali, Kim, Val,Lisa, Dana, Melissa, Kim my nurse, and Anita my therapist. You guys have been the nicest. Thanks. Love Dimstar 12:28 a.m. - 2003-01-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
||||||