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Me and MIa

I literally cannot stand myself. I looked in the mirror, and looked at the image that stared back at me. I saw a repulsive image that made me sick. I turned to the side and saw my fat stomach hanging over my jeans. My thighs that were wide and blended into my butt that was too big. I lifted up my arms and the jiggled. I felt disgusted with myself, that fat ugly image that stared back at me. I hated it, I felt like the most disgusting person I’ve ever seen. It made me depressed to see such an gross image looking back at me. I hate myself.

I ate fifteen minuets ago. A can of soup and crackers and fruit with nutella. That’s too much food, too many calories, so much fat, and more chub added to my body. It made me feel guilty, ashamed, and depressed. I need to get it off, before the food settled lower and lower into my digestive system. I pulled down my shirt and snuck into the bathroom. I took the cup from the sink, and downed a huge glass of water. I opened the linen cabinet and dug out the scale I hid. I stepped on it and waited for the number to pop up on the screen. The digital numbers stared back at me, 116.3. 2.6 pounds heavier than I was yesterday. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten. Stupid, stupid me! I felt my ugly fat hanging on me and leaned over the toilet.

I stared into the cool water of the toilet bowl and I could faintly see my reflection. My cheeks are chubby and I was developing a double chin. “Disgusting” I said to myself. I stuck two of my fingers down my throat and wiggled them around the back of my throat until I started to gag. I forced them down harder until I was touching my epiglottis. I felt the food I ingested churning up my stomach and back up my throat. Forcefully, my food came out of my mouth and splattered into the toilet, splashing water on my face. I did it over and over until my stomach was empty. All the time the voice in my head was yelling at me “fat pig! Ugly stupid girl! You’re disgusting! Fat ugly, disgusting girl!”

My throat burned as remaining stomach acid burned my esophagus. My stomach had a sharp, stabbing pain and I felt nauseas. I stood up and my head was spinning, and I had trouble finding my balance. My eyes were red, and I even popped a blood vessel in my eye from the force of the vomit coming out of my stomach. I had tears coming down my face and my nose was running. I wipe off my face, splashed some cold water on it, and exited the bathroom. I looked in the mirror again and again, I hated what I saw staring back at me. You’re still fat. I stepped on the scale again, 115.7, a little bit lighter, but still not good enough.

No one understands how much you have to hate yourself to make yourself vomit. The dimorphic image you see everyday in the mirror. That voice in your head constantly telling you that you’re ugly and fat. Feeling guilty after you eat and punishing yourself by getting rid of all the food you ingested. Then on top of it, it all has to be hidden because if you told a soul, they’d judge you. Telling you how dumb that is, why on earth would you do that? First people tell you you’re fat, and ugly, sending you into this world of self-hate and misery, then if they find out they tell you you’re stupid. No matter what it’s a living hell.




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