Let’s play another round of honesty hour, but this time about some things that I actually don’t want to be honest about. There’s only one rule: no judging.
Okay, so here we go. I threw up tonight — not because I had to or felt sick, but because I went to a Chinese buffet alone and ate my heart out. To be completely truthful, I didn’t even feel full after I left. The only fullness I felt was guilt. I hated that I had just filled myself to the brim with food that was so calorically dense. I most likely ate about a pound’s worth of calories, and I hate myself for it.
I don’t even remember the last time I made myself throw up and let my past eating disorder get the best of me. Today the eating disorder won, and it fucking sucks. I think there is something to be said about getting good at being alone and living alone. There’s no one here to watch me in any sort of way. I’m the only person to keep myself accountable, and today I failed at that. I went and sat in a booth, piling my face with four plates of food.
I drove home, completely stripped naked, and looked at myself in the mirror with disgust, looking distended from how full I was. I even poked my stomach out extra just to make myself feel worse. I stood on the scale and it read 224.6 lbs. I was 214.2 this morning — a whole ten pounds because I decided I couldn’t have self-control.
Then I got onto my knees in front of my toilet, got my two trusty fingers on my right hand, and shoved them so far down my throat until I was hurling the rainbow of food I had eaten. I threw up until I spit up blood. The scale read 220.0 lbs, and finally I felt some sort of relief.
I looked at myself in the mirror one more time and saw that my face and eyes were bloodshot — even to the point that a pimple on my face had popped and was bleeding. God, I hate that I kind of missed this, and I hate the fact that I feel so much better.
Ironically, my fortune cookie said, “Don’t be afraid to seek professional help when needed.”