At 7:30 I think about having breakfast. I go on websites to check the calories for oranges, slices of apples, berries. I memorized the calories for my greek yogurt a long time ago. I drink my laxative tea and wait. I try to occupy my time, I do stretching while thinking about lunch, dinner, what I will do in the afternoon. I take my vitamins. I try my hardest to postpone my breakfast, but eventually I succumb to the hunger and eat.
The rest of the morning is spent smoking, checking calories and cooking lunch. Cleaning the kitchen, painting or drawing.
At lunch time my stomach hurts from hunger. I truly believe that the appetite suppressant pills do not work on me. I take 3 everyday, but I am still hungry. I sit down at the table, staring at my small plate. They say that eating in a small plate, with a small fork, tricks your brain into believing you are eating more. I am fully conscious that it is just plain stupid, but it is easier to clean afterwards. My boyfriend is at school, and I am alone, free to eat in front of thin girls, or naked looking at my belly. I stare at the plate, and I am already thinking about dinner. It is like doing cocaine: the moment you have it, you are already thinking about the next line you´ll do. I eat my lunch, and I do not feel full, never do. I eat it all, and then - sometimes - I run back to the kitchen and stuff my face. Then I run to the bathroom, throw everything up.
At lunch time my stomach hurts from hunger. I truly believe that the appetite suppressant pills do not work on me. I take 3 everyday, but I am still hungry. I sit down at the table, staring at my small plate. They say that eating in a small plate, with a small fork, tricks your brain into believing you are eating more. I am fully conscious that it is just plain stupid, but it is easier to clean afterwards. My boyfriend is at school, and I am alone, free to eat in front of thin girls, or naked looking at my belly. I stare at the plate, and I am already thinking about dinner. It is like doing cocaine: the moment you have it, you are already thinking about the next line you´ll do. I eat my lunch, and I do not feel full, never do. I eat it all, and then - sometimes - I run back to the kitchen and stuff my face. Then I run to the bathroom, throw everything up.
The afternoon is the hardest part: I have set a rule for myself, I will only eat at specific hours. And dinner is a long way, so I do anything I can to keep my hands occupied. I cook lunch for S., I play videogames. I paint - and this all affair is doing wonder for my artistic drive. I do all of this, while craving hamburgers, pizza, pasta, sushi. Instead, I drink peppermint tea because I read somewhere that it supposedly reduces your appetite.
Dinner is in the company of S.. He has his own plate, a big, full of delicious food plate. He knows I am on a strict diet, so he does not question the sadness on my plate. If he manages to tempt me into taking a bit from his plate, I immediately think of stuffing myself, and if I do, I excuse myself to the toilet. I blame the laxative, I blame the fish I ate. I wash my face, I use mouthwash. I go back to the main room and drink 3 cups of green tea.
At midnight I drink my laxative tea. It tastes of wet grass, but I gulp it down anyway. I kiss him goodnight, and think about breakfast. I usually collapse fairly soon, and I probably have nightmares that make me nervous in the morning.
And repeat. Everyday. A copy of a copy of a copy, repeatrepeatrepeat.
At midnight I drink my laxative tea. It tastes of wet grass, but I gulp it down anyway. I kiss him goodnight, and think about breakfast. I usually collapse fairly soon, and I probably have nightmares that make me nervous in the morning.
And repeat. Everyday. A copy of a copy of a copy, repeatrepeatrepeat.
Weirdly enough, I find comfort in this fucked up routine.
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