But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shallowly Breathing Hungry, but scared to eat. I devoured 1,400 calories earlier, but they were all flushed out in my urine, rejected by a body that needs insulin to thrive. And this morning. I was in my little hell. Up after mom left for work, but before my brother awoke. My stomach was stretched so far that looking down I appeared to have no feet, a result of last night's binge. The food, the food did not move. It sat in my stomach all night. So I quietly walked to the back bathroom, wondering if it was worth it, but the scale confirmed it. I had gained 10.5 pounds. And the pain was horrible. Tongue covered in fuzz, cracked, back hurting, skin stretched, and I could hardly breathe... So I leaned over. And the masses began to flood out before my fingers touched the gag of my throat. Flooding so fast, so violently, I could hardly catch my breath. Oreos, soup, ice cream, chocolate soy milk, chicken, green beans... all in a brown wave. I leaned back as an excruciating pain shot up my spine, only to spew vomit all over the tile floor. And then it was over. Clean up, wash up, act as if nothing happened. Weak and dizzy, I head to get a glass of water. Then two, three... eight, but it does no good. My sugars are too high, I am too dehydrated, and my body is rebelling. The cold, it consumes me. I shake violently, teeth chattering, heart racing, legs weak, chest pains gripping me like an evil hug. So I take my first dose of Lexapro. I cannot stand this. I need recovery. I need help. But who can help someone who has been in almost 900 days of treatment and hospitals? Perhaphs a new life would be best? I woke up just in time for therapy. One look in the mirror made me want to head straight back to bed, claiming ill. Eyelids swollen, cheeks puffy, hair greasy, and a splotch of vomit I missed below my chin. The way I felt when I stood up made me want to fall to the floor. Shaky, dizzy, legs wobbly, heart beating too hard.... But I got up. I went to therapy. I then took my dog to the vet, and proceeded to go to class. And I am home once again, and have consumed enough carbs to kill an ordinary diabetic. But I am no ordinary diabetic. My body perserveres, in an attempt for what I doubt I shall ever find out... 11:55 p.m. - 2004-02-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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