The other day someone told me I'm losing too much weight.
I wasn't sure whether I was suppose to say Thank You or, I'm Sorry.
So I blankly stared back and said...
"I wasn't aware I lost at all"
I'm sorry sir, what I really meant to say was,
"Thank You"
Monday, February 13, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
You
It's a rarity to sleep through the night in my world. Or to simply enough have the courage to close my eyes and surrender my thoughts and body to the night sky and my very own dark sub conscious mind.
You wake up and through a foggy mind and sleepy eyes, strain your brain to come to a logical conclusion of what could have possibly made you feel this shitty with only the few hours that you missed in the night. Without any kind of surprise you realize once again that your life IS your reality and the creature who has left you lethargic and feeling as though you just boxed ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson is someone no one else can see. At least your ear is still in tact. The only thing pulling you out from underneath your warm cozy duvet is that voice in your head assuring you that if you don't get a move on, you will continue to get even more fat and repulsive. So you mutter a "fuck you" and drag your ass to the bathroom to start your routine. Look in the mirror, do you see that? You look like shit. The pigment from your skin is so drained you look sick and dehydrated as if you've just come home from a 5 day bender of binge drinking. You don't drink though, not really. Your eyes have a blood shot hue and the presence of insomnia lives deep within them from the slight sunken-ness and deep dark circles that surround them as decorative accents on your stupid face. As you peel away the layers you slept in, in the hopes that you would sweat calories away in the night, you've revealed a body that you'll spend the next 15 minutes examining as the shower grows hotter. You can see your ribs but are severely unsatisfied by your protruding stomach. You like that you can see your shoulder blades but not enough of your collar bone. Your hip bones are making a more definite appearance but your thighs seemed to have grown three inches over night. The only way you know you've lost anything is from the number you see on the scale but you know somehow you are getting visibly bigger and need to work harder. The bathroom is beginning to cloud over so you finally step into the scalding water and make the promise to yourself, like every other day,"I won't eat today". Dead skin is added weight so you're sure to exfoliate every part of your body to make up for anything possible. As you step out of the shower, your compulsion takes over and you spend another ten minutes criticizing yourself and are surely convinced that... The water in my pores has made me gained weight.
You wince hard from the well deserved pain of white bristles cleaning your teeth and watch has mouthfuls of crimson blood mixed with foaming pro-enamel wash down the drain. You hope that the teeth people see as you pretend to smile their way, stay inside your mouth for another day and you silently think to yourself "if I had a boyfriend, he could never watch me brush my teeth. What would he think with all that blood?". Depending on the day and if you have to work or not, you either consumer six laxatives or two diet pills and carefully choose an outfit that is acceptable for the day. The voice is getting louder the longer you take to remove yourself from the house. You are wasting precious walking time. The house is dangerous with food inside it. What you wouldn't give to spend a day on the couch watching movies. *sigh*.
Even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, and it generally is for the most part, you start walking. You walk everywhere. Layered in clothes and boots you know you're burning tons of calories. You'd give almost anything to be able to sit down, take the subway or ride an escalator. But as your friend stands on those mobile stairs you veer a slight left and make the move to walk the stairs next to her. Feeling half embarrassed and a little envious. All you can focus on anymore is calories. It consumes you like no other. You don't remember specific details of things you said, saw or did. Exact conversations you had with others are a bit of a blur because your mind is filled with disordered thoughts and there is no more room for specifics. Just generalizations. If you can walk quick enough though you can burn 6 calories a minute. Who cares about details in life when you could be losing weight? You enjoy your job the most because there are stairs involved. At the end of your shift you congratulate yourself for working harder than the others and take your free meal home with you in a take out container. Everyone there thinks your a little strange anyway, you don't need to eat in front of them. You don't trust them enough.
By 10pm you've usually only had water, a couple coffees and a diet coke. Maybe something small to eat if you're lucky. So you eat a little bit. Sometimes a little more and then a little more and then a litt... Fuck. On these days you swear to yourself you won't purge. You've reverted back to more restriction because at this rate all your teeth are bound to fall out soon and you'll look even more like a fool. You won't do it. But as you habitually chug that litre of water in preparation to rid yourself of everything... Just in case, you find you have no choice. You can't even stand the feeling of a substantial amount of food inside of you anymore. Just sitting there, taunting you, unable to digest in a way you can not seem to bare for another five minutes. You glance in the mirror, deep into those broken eyes with toothbrush in hand and just know it has to happen right now. If it doesn't, those sunken in, chiseled cheekbones, you've put so much work into, that a co worker just commented on 4 days ago, will be covered with fat by tomorrow morning. You can't have that happen so you lift the toilet seat up, shove that bright pink toothbrush so far down your throat you might accidentally swallow it and wait for your shame and stupidity to empty from you.
You sit on the floor as your hard work goes down the toilet and wonder when this is all going to end. When are you going to die already, because you fear that is the only way this could end and that may be better than continuing on like this for another 15 years. You can feel the scars in your soul that even you can't see. You can feel the pain in your heart and wonder if you've already caused heart damage or if you're just really that broken. And then you cover up the visible scares with pants everyday that no one really knows about because they've never seen them. You know deep down this isn't right. But you don't want help. You can't change until you ask for it but you know why you can't change. Because that voice that has stood beside you for as long as you can remember has convinced you that this is the lifestyle that you deserve. That you are so worthless that you cant do better than Him. You know this won't make you happy living this way. You're smarter than that to believe it... Right??? Right??? Against your better judgement though, because the voice is louder than your own, you believe and are hanging on to that small thread of hope that the more you fade away, the happier you will get. The more He can see those shoulder blades, the more He will assure you that this is all you deserve.
Am I happy yet...?
You wake up and through a foggy mind and sleepy eyes, strain your brain to come to a logical conclusion of what could have possibly made you feel this shitty with only the few hours that you missed in the night. Without any kind of surprise you realize once again that your life IS your reality and the creature who has left you lethargic and feeling as though you just boxed ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson is someone no one else can see. At least your ear is still in tact. The only thing pulling you out from underneath your warm cozy duvet is that voice in your head assuring you that if you don't get a move on, you will continue to get even more fat and repulsive. So you mutter a "fuck you" and drag your ass to the bathroom to start your routine. Look in the mirror, do you see that? You look like shit. The pigment from your skin is so drained you look sick and dehydrated as if you've just come home from a 5 day bender of binge drinking. You don't drink though, not really. Your eyes have a blood shot hue and the presence of insomnia lives deep within them from the slight sunken-ness and deep dark circles that surround them as decorative accents on your stupid face. As you peel away the layers you slept in, in the hopes that you would sweat calories away in the night, you've revealed a body that you'll spend the next 15 minutes examining as the shower grows hotter. You can see your ribs but are severely unsatisfied by your protruding stomach. You like that you can see your shoulder blades but not enough of your collar bone. Your hip bones are making a more definite appearance but your thighs seemed to have grown three inches over night. The only way you know you've lost anything is from the number you see on the scale but you know somehow you are getting visibly bigger and need to work harder. The bathroom is beginning to cloud over so you finally step into the scalding water and make the promise to yourself, like every other day,"I won't eat today". Dead skin is added weight so you're sure to exfoliate every part of your body to make up for anything possible. As you step out of the shower, your compulsion takes over and you spend another ten minutes criticizing yourself and are surely convinced that... The water in my pores has made me gained weight.
You wince hard from the well deserved pain of white bristles cleaning your teeth and watch has mouthfuls of crimson blood mixed with foaming pro-enamel wash down the drain. You hope that the teeth people see as you pretend to smile their way, stay inside your mouth for another day and you silently think to yourself "if I had a boyfriend, he could never watch me brush my teeth. What would he think with all that blood?". Depending on the day and if you have to work or not, you either consumer six laxatives or two diet pills and carefully choose an outfit that is acceptable for the day. The voice is getting louder the longer you take to remove yourself from the house. You are wasting precious walking time. The house is dangerous with food inside it. What you wouldn't give to spend a day on the couch watching movies. *sigh*.
Even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, and it generally is for the most part, you start walking. You walk everywhere. Layered in clothes and boots you know you're burning tons of calories. You'd give almost anything to be able to sit down, take the subway or ride an escalator. But as your friend stands on those mobile stairs you veer a slight left and make the move to walk the stairs next to her. Feeling half embarrassed and a little envious. All you can focus on anymore is calories. It consumes you like no other. You don't remember specific details of things you said, saw or did. Exact conversations you had with others are a bit of a blur because your mind is filled with disordered thoughts and there is no more room for specifics. Just generalizations. If you can walk quick enough though you can burn 6 calories a minute. Who cares about details in life when you could be losing weight? You enjoy your job the most because there are stairs involved. At the end of your shift you congratulate yourself for working harder than the others and take your free meal home with you in a take out container. Everyone there thinks your a little strange anyway, you don't need to eat in front of them. You don't trust them enough.
By 10pm you've usually only had water, a couple coffees and a diet coke. Maybe something small to eat if you're lucky. So you eat a little bit. Sometimes a little more and then a little more and then a litt... Fuck. On these days you swear to yourself you won't purge. You've reverted back to more restriction because at this rate all your teeth are bound to fall out soon and you'll look even more like a fool. You won't do it. But as you habitually chug that litre of water in preparation to rid yourself of everything... Just in case, you find you have no choice. You can't even stand the feeling of a substantial amount of food inside of you anymore. Just sitting there, taunting you, unable to digest in a way you can not seem to bare for another five minutes. You glance in the mirror, deep into those broken eyes with toothbrush in hand and just know it has to happen right now. If it doesn't, those sunken in, chiseled cheekbones, you've put so much work into, that a co worker just commented on 4 days ago, will be covered with fat by tomorrow morning. You can't have that happen so you lift the toilet seat up, shove that bright pink toothbrush so far down your throat you might accidentally swallow it and wait for your shame and stupidity to empty from you.
You sit on the floor as your hard work goes down the toilet and wonder when this is all going to end. When are you going to die already, because you fear that is the only way this could end and that may be better than continuing on like this for another 15 years. You can feel the scars in your soul that even you can't see. You can feel the pain in your heart and wonder if you've already caused heart damage or if you're just really that broken. And then you cover up the visible scares with pants everyday that no one really knows about because they've never seen them. You know deep down this isn't right. But you don't want help. You can't change until you ask for it but you know why you can't change. Because that voice that has stood beside you for as long as you can remember has convinced you that this is the lifestyle that you deserve. That you are so worthless that you cant do better than Him. You know this won't make you happy living this way. You're smarter than that to believe it... Right??? Right??? Against your better judgement though, because the voice is louder than your own, you believe and are hanging on to that small thread of hope that the more you fade away, the happier you will get. The more He can see those shoulder blades, the more He will assure you that this is all you deserve.
Am I happy yet...?
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