Comfort
Staring down into the toilet, one hand tying my hair and one playing double dutch in my mouth debating if I should put it in or not. Thinking about last week and how I emotionlessly I looked through my mom as she was wiping her tears saying
“Why are you doing this to yourself?
You need to stop doing this.
You are going to get sick.
Do you not love yourself?
When you are in the bathroom, leave it unlocked.
Is this the reason you’ve been ‘throwing up’ (used air quotes) lately? I just thought you might be pregnant…how often do you...?”
“I don't know” I quickly interrupted with a lie.
(pause)
In the morning I’d brush my teeth and leave the water running. When I came home from school after my first meal of the day I warned the boys I had to use the bathroom and to not knock on the door. After dinner, before I took a shower while the water was running. When I snuck downstairs in the middle of the night and ate a snack, then visit after.
Before, I would look in the mirror pull and tug, I never was satisfied. You name it I tried it. I worked out every single fucking day twice a day, it never worked fast enough. Oh! I was on that no junk food and 2,000 calories diet, It came to a point that I’d only eat about 800 calories a day. Every day I had to go to school and they’d snicker and laugh and make jokes touching the fat on my arms and stomach. I wouldn't eat lunch, because I wasn't hungry, I didn’t have an appetite.
Nothing ever worked. (pause)
I had given up, I ordered a small pizza and ate half of the box in my room. I had regretted it as soon as I had done it.
Tears running down my face I ran downstairs to the bathroom and began to brush my teeth. I had pushed too hard and went too deep and hit my uvula I ran here got on my knees and let it out. That was the first time I discovered it, next time and every day after that I’d do it on purpose, it made me feel like everything I ate just washed away and everything they said never had been said and every wound made by every word that cut me healed,then...for a moment everything was okay, I was okay...
The bathroom became my sanctuary, the things I did in here was a secret... and neither of us would tell.
I’d eat as much as I could as fast as I could then go upstairs run the water or play some music, sometimes both, get on my knees and find comfort in the porcelain throne.
After a while I stopped using the back of my toothbrush to do it, my index finger was good enough.
This went on for a year or so, I don’t think there was a meal that I kept down. I haven’t done it since I talked to my mom, last week but I just feel really shitty.
It’s thanksgiving, and everyone was commenting on how I definitely ate too much and how I should slow down before I gain more weight. Now here I am on my knees hair tied and slung over the toilet debating on pushing my finger to the back of my throat…Should I accept vanquish at my own hands,in a war against myself?(knock on the door) I am going to get up and answer because I am going to be okay. I am going to learn to love me, love the way I look. This is going to be the last time that I visit.
“I’m coming out right now!”
