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But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Only Eating to Puke

Damnit! I looked at my face in the mirror earlier and I swore that I wouldn't throw up. My cheeks are so swollen and my face so puffy. I look like a chipmunk. An ugly, puffy, fat chipmunk. I got anxious and started to binge, even though nothing tasted good. Instead of discouraging me, this made me determined to find something that tasted good. Granola, cinnamon rolls, cheesecake, graham crackers, cereal, chicken, a quesadilla... nothing. It all tasted like shit, but I kept going. Then the realization of what I had done set in. I sat on the couch and tried not to think about throwing up. I rocked back and forth, back and forth. "I'll fast tomorrow," I thought. No good. Finally I had to do it. I went outside behind the pool as usual, but for some reason only the damned banana came up. Shit. I can ram my whole hand down my throat, I can hunch over in the cold, have my hand down my throat, gag so hard and long that I almost pass out, and the food still won't come up. I decided to come back inside and forget the whole thing, but I just couldn't. Why in the hell wouldn't the food come up? So in less than fifteen minutes I was back outside behind the pool with my whole hand down my throat, refusing to give up until all my food came up. Finally a huge thick stream spewed out. But it wasn't enough. It is never enough. I drank the soda I brought out with me and sat up for a minute. I go prepared. Then I tried again. I must have been outside for half an hour with four fingers down my throat choking and hunched over a smelly rotten mess of decaying vomit from what has been every day for weeks, and still I don't believe I got everything up. I've been making myself vomit on and off pretty regularly since I was in fifth grade, and I still can't always get everything up. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I doomed to be this fat bitch forever? I am so selfish. Listen to me. All I do is eat and then complain when I can't vomit.

It used to be so easy for me to starve. Now I trick myself into allowing myself to eat, which ultimately leads to a binge. I tell myself I need the energy. That I can eat just two graham crackers. That five hundred calories is okay. In the back of my mind I no longer believe it. I suck. I deserve to die.

I am back to not taking my insulin. I was up until tonight. I am sure that it is a major contributing factor to my kidney and bladder infection. It makes me pee every fifteen minutes. Not like I care anymore. I wish that I would just disappear, but at this rate I will probably only double in size. I get another day home. I need it. I am still so out of it, strangely. Now I am rambling. Take care everyone. Never give up on yourselves.

Love,

Dimstar

11:11 p.m. - 2003-01-21
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