Inside Outside

I appear normal to the average person. Although at the same time, if anyone could hear what was happening inside my head,
they would for sure deem me as crazy. I am fat. I am gross. My stomach is big and squishy. I look pregnant. I hate that I have
no self-control when it comes to food. I eat healthy all day, and then at night I drink wine and eat until I go to bed. I need the wine
to relax me, but it impairs my judgment and stimulates my appetite. I feel horrible the next day. I feel horrible now. I ate three
bowls of cereal last night after my two glasses of wine. One after the other. I knew I would feel ugly this morning, but when I am
robotically moving the spoon back and forth between my mouth and the bowl, I care of nothing but that moment, the giving in to
my sickness, the momentary justification that I can eat whatever I want because I can, because I’m really not as fat as I feel.
Not compared to other people. People cannot really see under my shirt. They don’t know how gross I am. They don’t know
how ugly I tell myself I am when I look in the mirror, when I feel my fat, when I look down and the only thing I see is my tummy
sticking out farther than it should from my shirt. Today is definitely a loose shirt day at work. You know I made it all day at work
without cramming a cupcake in my mouth. I even left there last night without taking a cookie. I was craving sugar all evening.
This is a huge indicator when I begin obsessing. I can’t rid it from my head. It’s right there in the front overpowering every other
thought. I should’ve known I would blow it when I got home. Why do I have to keep that shit in the house. No cookies. No cake.
No sugar cereal. I’ll eat it all in one night. I cannot overlook it.
When I am serving customers at work, I look at them while they are standing there, drooling over what cupcakes they should
buy, intent as though this were the most important decision they will ever make, I stare at them and wonder how they can be
comfortable being however overweight they are. I imagine what they look like without their shirt. How can they have sex? Aren’t they
embarrassed? The skinny girls. How can eat these cupcakes. I guess they have a fast metabolism and it doesn’t affect them.
It’s not healthy though. They shouldn’t be eating them! I stare in envy, in awe that people don’t care about this. That these
people are oblivious to the horror that goes on in my head every moment. I want to be free of it. I want to eat cupcakes and not
feel ruined. I want to live and not feel overwhelmed and robbed of any joy that may be waiting for me. I deserve to not have to
feel this, but I don’t know how. I feel disgusting. I actually scrubbed myself extra hard in the shower as if I could get rid of this
feeling. As if I could change who I am, what I’ve let happen to myself. I am going to super supplements today before work to try
and find an appetite suppressant. I know they don’t really work. I can’t afford it, but I need something. It’s psychological. I need
anything to stop me from eating. Anything. I’ll do anything. I am so uncomfortable in my own skin right now. My clothes don’t fit. I
am hungry. This is unbearable. This is unacceptable. I am unacceptable.


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