We sit around a table, and my mom sets food in front of me. I tell her that I can't eat that; that I've eaten more than my allotted 1,300 calories a day.
My mom asks me why I am like this, Why haven't I been eating even though I've already gone to the doctor.
I tell my mom that my eating disorder is not something that comes and goes as it pleases.
It is a rock, unmovable in my stomach.
It weighs me down and keeps me tethered to it.
Mom says, you ate just fine yesterday. Why is today any different.
I tell her mom, yesterday was no different from any other day. I was still counting all the calories, keeping track of every single thing I ate because I needed to know how long I needed to exercise that night.
She says, there's nothing wrong with being chubby. Whoever tells you that you need to exercise shouldn't be your friend.
Mom! Don't you understand? Its not outside forces telling me that I need to get skinnier. Its not a person telling me to eat less.
Its a monster that's eating me alive from the inside, gobbling up every good thought I have about my body weight, keeping it's sharp claws in me, hurting me to the point of where I think I am unable to get better.
Mom please, I need your help.
Mom asks me, Are you doing this for attention? Because being a drama queen gets you nowhere.
And I ask God, or whatever is up there to help me. Help me make her understand that this isn't about attention.
I don't want any attention drawn to this gremlin inside me, whispering in my ear that I'm eating too much.
Telling me that I need to go work it off, to the point where I hurt myself and I'm sore for days, because it's convinced me that this is what you do to when you are a fat whale like me.
Mom! I need help. Not your attention. I need your love, not words that hurt me.
I need your support, can you just offer me that?
Mom says, we're going back to the doctor tomorrow. They can fix you.
No, mom. They can't "fix" me. I need to fix myself. I need to help myself.
But I can't do that without your support.
Mom says,
We're going to the doctor now.
YOU ARE READING
Little Infinities
No Ficción"No one told me, That love was something to be afraid of. Now look at me; Afraid to get my heart broken After one encounter With the angel-disguised sin. " c.w A collection of poems, dreams, thoughts and short stories.
