All I have are clichés for you
My hips protruded as if in a hurry to arrive before the rest of me
Staring death in the face,
“Bulimics- weak. Over-exercisers- very weak. Diet pill takers- the weakest. None of them have shit on us. We’re the ones with discipline. We’re the ones with strength. Why? Because we combine all three of them and then add another, stronger component to it. We starve. We are the ones who stare into the refrigerator with sunken eyes and a weak heartbeat, longing to put one morsel into our mouths, even the healthiest of foods, and cannot bring ourselves to consume anything. It’s at that point we punish ourselves for even walking into the kitchen. “Ok, you, stupid weakling,” we say to ourselves. “It’s time to repent.” That means we’ll go even longer without a single bite, take twice the number of pills, and do twice the exercise we normally do, just because we walked into the kitchen and even contemplated eating. Hell, at least the bulimics vomit the food up. The other two actually consume it completely and let it nourish their bodies, even if it’s only temporary. Us, we don’t even swallow, which, to be brutally honest, doesn’t come in handy at some point in life when you’re staring up at the face of a guy eagerly awaiting you to consume him while your knees ache from the pressure of the floor beneath them. But that’s another story altogether; I simply say it to further explain how our road is more difficult, but, oh, the triumph is greater, the results more permanent. Yes, we anorexics have a hard line to tow, but when you can walk into the children’s section of a clothing store and buy a smaller size than a child years younger than you, it’s all worth it.
She comes at me as if in plain sight