The walk to work was a struggle today. I didn’t get halfway before I felt dizzy and fell against a barrier.
It’s a good job it was there otherwise I might have fallen into the road. It wasn’t too worrying, it passed after a minute or two.
I was late again because of it though. If that keeps happening I will have to worry. I’ll get the inevitable call into the office. He’ll sit me down and look me over. Then he’ll pontificate about how we’re all players in the team, we’re all working towards the same goal and being late three days out of five prevents us reaching our goals.
I hate management speak.
There’s no ‘I’ in team, we’re only as strong as our weakest member, it takes more muscles to frown than to smile.
What a load of shit.
We’re here because we’re paid to be, not because of some noble team ethic. I don’t give a shit if the team fromSmethwickout perform us or if Sandwell make look bad. So long as I’m paid on time, I don’t give a damn.
Well anyway I wasn’t called into the office, today, but it won’t be long. He’ll call me in and his eyes will be all over my body. He’ll talk but be thinking about my legs and my arms, how unhealthy I look. We can’t all wear Armani and drive a BMW can we?
I know I’m out of shape, but feeling their eyes on me drives me nuts. I don’t pick at their faults do I?
I skipped lunch. Said I wanted to make up for being late. That might put off the office talk for another day or two. The rest went in groups of two or three. Some came back stuffing their faces with crisps or chocolate bars, cans of pop or cookies. I tried to focus on my work but all I could think about was last night’s dinner and what a mistake it had been.
I know I’m weak, that I’ll never look or feel right if I keep slipping but I couldn’t help it, I was starving.
It annoyed me to watch them all, taking food for granted like that. I wish I could. I wish I could eat what I wanted and not worry. I wish I didn’t count every pound and ounce.
Karen was sweet though. She eats well and she looks good. She always tells me to eat something and not to worry about my weight. She means well, but she doesn’t understand what its like. She looks good. I don’t.
She has a good figure and always looks smart, even on her bad days. I can’t do that. I only need to eat a cracker and I feel it on me.
Some days I take my lunch break out of the office, even though I’ve arrived late. It’s better that way because I don’t have to watch them stuffing food into themselves and I can tell Karen I’ve eaten. I don’t like lying to her, but it’s easier that way.
I couldn’t get out today. I had too much work and I didn’t feel up to it. I felt dizzy walking to the photocopier, going outside would’ve made me feel sick all afternoon. I told her I’d eaten a big breakfast, that I was too busy. She offered to pick me something up but I declined, told her I was fine.
I never feel fine.
Food is everywhere. Temptation is everywhere, but how will I ever be better if I give in to it? Last night’s slip was the last. Tonight I’ll throw what food I have out, get rid of all temptation once and for all.
It won’t be for long, just until I look ok, until I feel ok.
I can’t remember the last time I felt “just ok”.
People take that for granted, feeling ok, being able to walk around, comfortable in their own skin. They don’t know what it’s like for everybody to be looking at them, thinking how hideous they look.
I know people think that about me because I do too.
I look in the mirror and it makes me sick.
I stand on the scales and it’s always too high.
Maybe I shouldn’t look in the mirror or stand on the scales, but would deluding myself really make things better?
I have to face reality. Until the mirror and scales make me feel ok, until the eyes stop staring I need to resist temptation. I need to stop listening to people who keep coaxing me to eat more. Including Karen and especially my mother.
You know what mothers are like. In their eyes their children are always perfect. I know I’m not perfect so what she says means nothing. She comes around for coffee and moans I have no sugar or milk. I can’t keep these things in the house.
Last time she same around she told me I should see somebody. That look on her face when I suggested a dietician, I though she was going to pounce at me.
She told me sarcasm wouldn’t help, that she hated seeing her only child, her only son, in this state. I told her not to worry, that I was fine. She just looked at my arms and told me they were even thinner than before and my face more gaunt. I didn’t show her the bruises on my body where I’ve fallen over recently.
There’ll be another one after this morning’s episode. They’re building up now, don’t seem to heal properly.
I haven’t invited her around for a few days, it's easier that way. I can’t stand another lecture right now about seeing a councillor and getting help. I just need to lose a few more pounds, then everything will be fine.
I’m so hungry tonight, but it's worth it.
I look at the empty soup can on top of the bin and it reminds me of last nights slip. I gave in last night, I won't tonight. I'll just go to bed and not think of it, I'll think of getting better, thinner.
You’d do the same, if you felt as this hideous.
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