I Like Peeling Carrots

I haven’t been eating well lately. If no one’s watching me, I’ll skip a meal. It feels wonderful having that much power over my body. I no longer experience hunger. Sometimes, I feel like I’m empty, but empty in a good way. Almost like my body’s been distilled from every pathogen. And my waistline shrinks. Twenty six inches to twenty three. More than once I’ve had to suddenly sit down to avoid fainting. And yet I still restrict.

I had to get out my old bras and start wearing dresses because my pants were too baggy at the waist. But it’s okay. I like dresses better, anyway. I have a lot of them, you know. My favorite one, the one made out of white eyelet that comes down to just above my knees, hangs a little funny, but I don’t mind. I’ll gain back the weight soon. That is if I keep eating the way I do. Soda and gummy bears and lemon ice and juice and juice and juice. I like liquids best. I can’t gag on them as easily.

Did I tell you I gag on everything now? I mean, I did it before, but now most food catches in the back of my throat and I feel that muscle contraction that goes from the bottom of you abdomen and rolls all the way to the tightening of your cheeks and I cough. Cough the way you do before you hurl. But I just spit out the mouthful and try again with a different piece of food. Because, you know, throwing up would be going just a little too far.

You shouldn’t worry about me. This’ll right itself. It always does. I’ll take out my meal plans and start measuring portions with the kitchen scale. I like peeling carrots.

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