I remember growing up I was a lot chubbier than all the other kids, even all my sisters it felt like, but I never knew it. Or maybe I did, but it didn't matter because those were much simpler times. Oh how I miss those days, before children were taught it wasn't okay to be "fat", before they learned that only pale faces and slim waists were beautiful. What I would give to go back to those times.
Instead I live my days wishing I was beautiful. I look in the mirror and day by day it only gets worse. My days are consumed with thoughts of hunger and what ifs.
What if I give in?
What if I take just one bite?
What if I actually did it? But I could never.
I'm down to one meal a day now! And I eat that one meal and even though I'm starving, the thought of food entering My body, the thought of my one chance of beauty slipping away... Well I could never. They are to horrible, these thoughts, that I could never keep the food down without hating myself.
But at least ill be beautiful, even if I'm starving