Apr 30, 2005 00:39
I keep wanting to kill myself, which is not good. My weight-- meaning, really, my identity-- seems more and more hopeless. I want the close relationship that I had with my mother when I was sick back (sick meaning low-weight). Everything seemed so much bigger, and I felt a love in everything. Any gesture of affection was so monumental; my mom bought me a houseplant and a blanket and I cried all day.
I feel that I am damned to being a chubby girl. Before my ED, even though I ate much more poorly than I do now, I had a BMI similar to my current one. I have always been round and discontent... When I was thin, I was also driven, I was determined and people marveled at me. I was so thin that a little girl thought I was a withered old lady. I could get my pointer finger and thumb around my upper arm, I mean, that's like the size of the bone alone. I could store all your love in the cavity of my hipbone and keep thoughts stacked up between my clavicle and chin. I was bound upward toward a frothy, calming sky of death and relief, but before I knew it, I found myself unable to move from a hospital bed and recieving three meals a day that bloated and distorted anything I had built up, or rather torn down, for myself.