Let’s be honest.
I should be honest.
There’s not much chance to come out of this.
And no, I don’t want to look like that. I want to be beautiful. I don’t want to be poky-elbows and scary ribs and sad eyes and broken hairs. I don’t want to sabotage my own strength. I recognize that is not beauty.
But the girl in my mirror is always fat, and apparently I’m now underweight. I don’t see it/feel it/believe it. Not even in a small way. Even though my size 2 pants are unattractively baggy and I had to poke a new hole in my belt this morning and my breasts no longer fill my 34A bra cups. I can fill my hands with gooey flesh from my low back, I can still grab my belly, feel my thighs jiggle, I can see how thick THICK wide solid weighted and heavy I am.
The baggy clothes or low numbers aren’t even things I relish anymore. I am so far retreated from my body. I am on this path and I am so confused and blinded by the known outcome that my reaction is….
nothing.
I drink coffee in the morning. I eat an apple and a cheese stick for lunch. Sometimes I drink a green juice. I eat dinner 3 or 4 times a week, and usually it’s because I can’t bear to make Joe worried. He’s already worried–the blood around my eyes from my weird self-injuries and my apparent “really bad body image” and the blood pressure stuff and how I complain about too much contact pressure on my bones when I sit or lie down.
Mom talking about malnourishment, anemia, ketosis, how I need labwork, vitamins, diet changes…
Everyone on repeat: ”BE CAREFUL.”
My reaction? ….still ….nothing.
I can’t stop. I see where this is going but “I” is stuck in a birdcage and strung on a wire between two lightning rods. This storm roils and churns and turns my stomach this empty empty stomach while “I” toss and float for briefest of moments before slamming into the bars of this cagenest, humming with sick ama energy, so trapped. Fucked.
Far below, far far down is the eye of the storm where things move around me in a quiet and controlled cycle of bullshit. A veritable shit storm. But it’s quiet. I’ve tried to correct the divide but it was unbearable and I moved on.
Let’s be honest (and now hear me, because this is terrifying), I CAN’T STOP. And we know where this goes. And now I am horror embodied.
