Every morning I wake up, crawl out of bed, and look in the mirror. It’s 11 am. I see how my body looks slimmer than the night before because I am “morning skinny”. I slept in later, so I don’t have to eat breakfast. I stare at myself in the mirror for several minutes, looking at how I wish I looked all the time. I experiment with different outfits I should wear that day. I can’t wear leggings and a crop top, because my stomach isn’t flat enough for that. I can’t wear a big hoodie and shorts because people will think I’m fat. I settle on jean shorts that are too big and a fairly loose shirt. I walk downstairs and observe the various foods on my counter. I see a bagel and an apple. i want the bagel, but the apple has fewer calories. I contemplate even eating the apple because I don’t want to get bloated for the day. I grab a glass of water and head back upstairs. the sound of my stomach rumbling can be heard for miles. I silence the sound by forcing myself to drink water. I look in the mirror, disgusted with how fat my face looks. I apply some mascara and it’s time for lunch. I examine each and every item in my fridge to find the food with the least amount of calories. doesn’t matter if I like it or not. I continue with my day, snacking on 45 calorie rice cakes, ice, and gum. Wishing I could eat the chocolate, chips, and cake. But I can't. hours pass, and I sit down for dinner with my family. I try and grab a small amount of food, being careful that they don’t see how little it is. after, forcing myself to go on a run or a long walk to try and burn off the food I ate that day. once I get home and undress for the shower, my insecurities are bigger than ever. staring at the mirror, fighting the negative thoughts. I avoid every mirror on the way to the shower, hoping that my mind will stop thinking about my imperfect self. My back slides down my closed door as I stare at myself in the mirror in front of me. Tears run down my face as I try and catch my breath while being as quiet as I can. I grab my heart and lay on the floor, my tears falling off the slide of my face. I’m so unbelievably tired of hating myself. It is so incredibly draining to hate yourself so much. counting every single calorie I consume automatically, running miles upon miles just to burn calories, beating myself up over having that scoop of ice cream. I’m tired of it. I'm tired of sleeping through breakfast just to consume fewer calories. I'm tired of not eating when I'm hungry. I'm tired of beating myself up about not exercising that day. I'm tired of logging every meal I eat in Myfitnesspal. Not a single second goes by where I don’t think about food and my body. my body has consumed my entire life. I cannot do anything with thinking of it. I joke about a portion of food having too many calories for me, but on the inside, it’s nothing near a joke. I know I don’t eat enough, but I don't care. I just want to be pretty enough. The worst part is, I'm alone. My friends fit the societal beauty standard. I can never talk to them about it, simply because they don't understand. “No just eat,” they say. little do they know, if I eat, ill regret it and beat myself up about it later. “I'm not hungry”, I say. I know I need to get help, but I cant.
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