I am loathsome

This morning I weighed myself, and I almost died from happiness - 125 ohmygodtwopoundsfinallyaaaah. To celebrate I wore some Erin Fetherston skinnies that were very loose! (When I bought them I totally had a muffin top). All day long at school the only thing I thought about was how easy eating minimally was. I was suspicious, however. This was too easy.

Then came lunch.
Once again, a friend was going to throw away her food. WHY did that happen again?? It was a Healthy Choice Meatloaf TV dinner. I told her I would just eat the dessert part, but of course I saw the other parts (meatloaf, green beans), and I just had to eat it. I had to. So I did, and my stomach retaliated since it's not used to being fed during the day. That damn dinner was 290 calories. TODAY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A 200 DAY! And I had already eaten half a banana (55 calories) for breakfast.
After that I felt ill and wished I could purge it all, but I would never do that at school.
When I got home I ate some grapes. And ice cream, pecans, walnuts, TWO packages of peanut butter cracker sandwiches (that's 12 of them), and orange, Rolo's, a fun size 100 GRAND bar, and a cup of that stupid pasta. All the while my body screamed and begged for me to stop, but it all tasted so damn good. I wasn't even hungry - I was merely eating because it tasted good...?
This was all too much for my stomach and digestive system, and after my deadly binge I spent the next hour in the loo. Not purging, mind you. I swore I'd NEVER EVER EVER do that again. No matter how much my stomach hurt.

Almost 2,000 bloody fucking calories. TWO THOUSAND. Worst binge to date, I think. This happened the last time the scale said 125. Am I doomed to fall to 125, then gain five pounds and go through it all over and over and over again? Why the hell did I do something so incompetent and moronic? I was so happy that I was losing weight, and then I eat like a morbidly obese person. But that's obviously what I really am, yeah? If I really had control I would have said "hell, no" to anything today. I could have lost more weight; now when I wake up I'll just be the gargantuan hog that I was.

I feel nightmares will plague me tonight. Demons pouring soup and bread down my gullet, bloating my stomach and adding pounds upon pounds of lard to my body, and I will wake to find that it came true. Serves me right. A monster tearing my stomach out would be a gift I am unworthy of.

Tomorrow I've got an art competition (Did I mention I was an artist? A student artist, that is). I was hoping to look nice, maybe catch the eye of a handsome art boy. But who will be attracted to a pregnant walrus with waves of fat overflowing down her body? I will hide my face behind my canvas, so the double-chin that sprouts overnight isn't visible. Perhaps I'll ingest some oil paint, and puke all my insides out.

Tomorrow is a water fast. I don't care if my hands shake and I stutter and my head pounds while I try to explain my created-by-a-fat-hippopotamus-artworks. I will fucking learn to control myself. Food is an evil thing. A terrible, unreliable, back-stabbing thing. Fuck you, food.


I hope other people have more strength than I do. I hope no one has to suffer a binge. It's not worth it. I feel like shit and my stomach is desperately trying to claw itself out.

Can I please just live in a starving country? Can those poor starving people live in my house and nourish themselves on my food? Can they take it away from me? I just want lose weight, that's all. That's fucking all.