'This is the last time' she told herself. This is the last day she would give in to the monster sitting in her stomach who demanded greedily precarious amounts of food. Yes, this was certainly the last binge.
Oh, it's easy to claim that it's the last time, but is it really the last time? The absolute last time she would binge eat? She blinked back tears as her stomach furled and quenched, her ribs puffed out against her green tank top, her muffin tops swelled over her sweat pants. She couldn't bring herself to put on a pair of size 1 jeans, because she knew if she binged whilst wearing them she'd see exactly how much weight she had gained as she would feel the jeans grow tighter and tighter with every bite of peanut butter toast she ate. She was a small girl, averaging around 110 pounds. She bloated after binging however, and slimmed down after going back to her regular diet. Was there an in between? She wondered. Would she ever be on her diet, and not crave the binging? “f***” she thought to herself. F*** this life. It was a constant cycle, binge, starve, binge, starve, guilt. All choices ended at a tall, inescapable brick wall that shielded out the sunlight, that darkened the day. Her head throbbed and her stomach groaned. Her fingertips grew tired after lifting the remote control. Who was she? She turned into a fat slob when she binged. She loved to be healthy, and loved the reward her body gave her when she ate healthily. But the binge monster always crept back up and blind sighted her, dragging her back into the depths of the dark tunnel where he held her hostage, feeding her all her favorite foods until she couldn't stand the think of anything at all anymore. “Stop” she would beg. “Please, I'm not hungry anymore, please stop feeding me” she would choke with her mouth full of pancakes and syrup. No matter how much she begged, the binge monster found a way to stifle her pleads and to trick her into forcing more food down. It was a sick process, one the girl was ultimately afraid of. The binge monster lived within her, and every time she told herself she would kill it and not binge for a day, she would eventually give up and eat the pop tarts, which led to the nutella, which led to the honey-toast, which led to the pancakes, which led to the cereal, which led to the pasta, which led to the cookies. After this large meal she'd find herself exhausted, her body too weak to hold up her own head, or to hold open her eyes. Her limbs would ache and tire easily, and her mind would race as her head throbbed. Yes, she would lie down. Perhaps if she fell asleep the time would pass quicker for the belly ache to pass, and for her joints to replenish, and for her mind to clear.