I wish that my weight was as low as my self esteem. I wish to have long hair and be thin. I think perhaps I would be more content with myself.
I consumed so many calories today, and had forgotten to bring my laxatives to work, so went to go and buy some. I was nearly outraged when the till girl wouldn’t sell them to me because I didn’t have ID on me.. since WHEN did you need ID to buy bloody laxatives!? This brought on so many mixed emotions. I was angry and frustrated because I had eaten and couldn’t get rid of the food. I’d already tried purging at work (several times) but nothing came up. Knowing that I would go through the whole day with a fat, bloated stomach brought on something I wasn’t expecting.
I found myself using my nurses’s scissors to cut my thigh. I didn’t draw blood, my scissors are very blunt. But it was a way out. A way of punishing myself for putting my body through food.
I don’t see beauty in me.
I see failure.
I see myself imperfect.