“Hey, how’d it go? You didn’t let me see what you tried on!”

She looked hopeful, kind of excited. Knowing I was disappointing her, I gave my best friend a thumbs down sign and frowned.

“They just looked stupid, I didn’t feel sexy.” Hanging them back on the returns rack I turned to face her and put my hair in a ponytail.

“I’ll be right back, I have to pee. We’ll look for more stuff when I come out.

I locked myself in the bathroom stall and sighed as my eyes threatened to flood.

You’re pretty, but you let yourself get fat and now you’ve got nothing left. The clothes you picked didn’t even fit you. And you even chose bigger sizes. Ha!  You’re hopeless.

I stared at the toilet for a moment. My face drooped, followed by my shoulders slumping.

I walked the few steps to the sink and washed my hands. I tried to avoid eye contact, but the intense desire to torture myself yelled loudly.

Look at your face. A round face has never suited you, and yet, you pile it on. One meal after the other…One dessert, two desserts, three. You blame it on depression and stress and say that’s how you deal with it, but if you know the cause, why not fix it? Why you are still about to hunch yourself over the toilet bowl and purge yourself because you don’t like how you feel after three slices of pizza? You’re pathetic. All your friends run, they exercise, they can say no.  And there you are with no self-control, no good reason as to why you are the way you are.

 Once finished, I approached the toilet.

It’s sad, really, how fat you are. How much you let yourself go. People tell you you’re not fat because they know how it would make you feel if they were honest, but you’re fat. You wore a one-piece the last time you went to the beach, so what does that tell you? You have to suck in your gut over and over and over…because you’re fat.

I layered the seat with toilet paper.

It’s pretty funny watching you try to exercise or eat right when the first chance you get, you’ll justify having the brownie. You’ll justify not going on that walk, not working out, not doing anything but sitting on your lazy ass all day. You’re not depressed, you’re just lazy. Your pants don’t fit you, you can’t squeeze your dresses passed your thighs, and you have now reached the point where you can’t suck in your muffin top.

My fingers trembled. My jaw clenched. My stomach churned. My mouth grew wet and cold. I spit into the toilet and mentally prepared myself.

Do it.

I contemplated washing my hands again, but berated myself for hesitating.

Just get it over with.

I opened my mouth slightly, then widely as my fingers reached the back of my throat.

Why do you think you’ll ever be more than what you are now? You’ll never be great, you’ll never make a difference, you’re not special or different…you’re nothing. Actually, no. You’re a fat nothing.

So, go ahead. Get comfortable and do what you do best; take the easy way out.

My throat burned. My face was wet with tears. My eyes were ringing. I was disgusted with myself, causing more to come out than anticipated. All the while, I didn’t stop.

You’re useless. 





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