When my mom found out I was throwing away my lunches my freshman year of high school, she stopped making me lunch. She was mad and annoyed I could possibly be that ungrateful that I would just toss it to the trash.

I remember walking in to the locker room every morning, and doing just that– tossing my sack lunch straight into the trash as soon as I got the chance, so I would have no chance of eating it.

A part of me was sad, though, that my mom gave up so quickly. I internalized that action as, “well I must be fat if my mother doesn’t see a need to make me lunch” and even worse–“she doesn’t care if I eat, or about my wellbeing.”

Which, I knew wasn’t entirely true, but it still stung that she didn’t fight, at all, for me. She gave up so quickly. The eating disorder part of me was ecstatic– I didn’t have to feel guilty about tossing lunches any more! But the core of me was shattered. Why was I being grounded for lying and why doesn’t anyone seem to care that I wasn’t EATING REGULARLY? Why is the focus on deceptive behavior instead of; oh hey, my daughter isn’t eating properly and throwing up, maybe we should pay attention to what’s going on? They didn’t think it was a big deal and I thought that meant I wasn’t a big enough deal to care about.

And I wasn’t–a big deal. I did nothing exceptional. I skipped a level of Spanish and a level of math but my brother skipped 2 levels of math and was a year younger than me but 2 years ahead of me in math. I couldn’t do math fast enough during family uno nights and would have so much anxiety when I had to add up all my points quickly. It was never quick enough. It’s so simple, 36 + 19 + 7 should be so easy to add in your head. Many tears ensued over that stupid game because I froze when I knew I would be scolded for not counting fast enough. I didn’t add up, ever. I was always failing.

I now weigh what I weighed in July and I now can’t stand myself. I meant to arrive here, but I’m not sure I can stay here. I am fighting the urge to run the other direction and honestly that feels safer than staying here or worse–gaining even more weight.

I’m still hungry all the time, I’m not eating enough 50% of the time, and I’m exercising so much. So, it doesn’t add up that I keep gaining weight. I’m terrified to eat until I’m full and to give myself a break on working out because if I’m gaining at this rate, surely I’ll gain that much quicker.

You need to lose weight not gain it. You’re going to be obese the way you’ve been eating and you have to get control of this situation. Stop eating lunch. Stop eating peanut butter. Stop using creamer and for fucks sake stop drinking alcohol.

When I look at myself, while thinking those thoughts, I can’t help but believe them.

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