a post from february 18, 2010

"6 AM: Mother wakes me up, slams the door.
6 10: I am in my closet, close to tears because I know I've gained, I just know it.
6 15: My clothes are picked. A pretty shirt that used to be a bit loose, jeans that are usually quite loose, and a paper-thin see through jacket that will just barely cover up the scars from last night.
6 20: After standing at my door, hand on the knob, I brave the bathroom and its ominous billboard sized mirror.
6 22: I brave the mirror, last night's clothes are off. My right hand passes over my left arm, starting at a long-healed scar on the wrist, past a few shallow recently healed ones further up. Over the one I made in the crook of my elbow, and gently over the ten leading up my shoulder. Those aren't near healed. My hand goes closer to my neck--the skin is more fragile here and tears easily. That's why the scars are 'softer'. They're only deeper and haven't healed completely. My hand goes down from my neck to my chest, over the cross shaped scar that passes over my heart.
6 25: I look at my body. Fat. Blobby. Jiggles. Disgusting. Failure.
6 26: I weigh myself. Up two pounds. Damn.
6 28: My clothes aren't loose. I have to unbutton my jeans to get them on. My shirt rides up.
6 30: Today is a makeup day. I straighten my short hair and put on some lipstick and a good necklace. Anything to take the attention away from my stomach.
6 35: I stay in my room and read.
7 15: I go to my closet, take out two cigarettes from my stash, and put them in my bag. I go downstairs and run in to my dad. "Have a good day" he says. I doubt it. I leave the house, and light up once I'm out of eye sight.
12:00: Flash forward to lunch. I skipped breakfast, and class was boring. No one at my table is eating yet. They wait for the lines to get smaller. I nibble on a piece of pear and talk a lot. I smash my apples into a kid's forehead next to me, because he touched my phone. A food fight ensues.
Class: English. My crush. My scars. Oh dear.
Home: I go to the computer. After a while I get up again, go up to my room to grab a cigarette, and smoke it outside. I go down to the dollar store, buy some ice cream. The whole time I'm saying, "this is a bad idea"
5:00: I eat the ice cream, poor some habanero sauce into last night's pasta and eat that too.
5:15: Purge. purge. purge.
5:45: done purging. Sister comes home. I get back on computer."