I am headed over there as we speak, feeling rather crappy. I plan to shock the pants off of my T. Maybe this is the only way to get her to listen. Has she seen a huge belly like the one I have on a skinny person before? Really? I photographed it this morning. I will force her to look at it. I hide this horrid thing and show it to no one. I stay indoors and don’t eat until the tell-tale belly is gone and no longer reveals to the world my suffering. No, I don’t plan to show her the photo I took. I will unzip my bulky, bulky coat. I will lift my shirt. And I will show her my shiny, round belly.
I brought with me my writings, but isn’t a picture worth a thousand words?
What am I saying to her with this action?
Welcome to my life. Welcome to the shame that I live with. I hide because of this. I allow you to see it only to prove to you its ugliness. I do not cling to this belly. I do not cherish this belly. I wait until it leaves me, for however long it takes. Next time you say, “You do not want to give up bingeing,” think again.
Wish me luck.