But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Visions of Binges Danced in her Head Acid, churning in my gut. Waring away the flesh, licking at my insides destroying the protective lining. I glance at the clock. 6:30am. I must throw up. Grab a towel. Shhhhh... No one must hear you. Step out the back door, into a jungle of overgrown grass, sunflower seeds, and trees. Step behind the pool. Lean over, hand down throat, wretch. A putrid stench arises in my throat. It engulfs me, burns my sinuses, and makes me want to whimper. I must vomit again. Slowly, steadily, bit by bit, it is all over. I creep back in, silent as a guilty tiger. Toss the towel in the washer, get a yogurt to eat. Promise myself that that was the last time, that it will never happen again. That I am done with bulimia. No more nightime binges. No more waking up, frantic to gorge myself to the point of sickness, no more gluttony, no more consuming what I do not need to survive. Yea Mom, your stir-fry was good. Really. Too good.... 7:39 a.m. - 2003-09-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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