Twenty Five Pounds

When I was in fifth grade, so four years ago, we got measured in gym. I was seventy five pounds and five feet and a quarter inch tall. I had lost twenty five pound in just the month before school started when a three year old boy at the local park asked if I was pregnant. I freaked out and cut all the calories being lucky if I ate one hundreds and fifty calories a day which is all I would have allowed anyways. All through middle school I was less than eighty ice pounds. Nobody ever questioned whether I ate or not. My mother had suspicions (and still does) but never tried to help. Ever. I felt abandoned and scared and alone. I had no one. I tried to kill myself around twelve times. I promised myself that I would be dead after that last attempt but right when I put the noose around my neck my mother walked in my room and luckily it's an awkward shaped room or she would have seen her eldest daughter with a sheet around her neck and the other end tied to the railing in her closet. I could handle the thought of my mother seeing that tragic sight so I stopped trying to die that way and started trying to get attention from my parents. My mom never noticed. She's like that though, anything She does has to be ten times better or worse than what I do. She always needs to be on top of the food chain. My daddy however did notice. I was horribly thin and pale and never ate and he said that if I didn't gain one pound by the end of that week I was going to be sent away. The problem is that we don't own a scale and he is diabetic and didn't remember that conversation the next day anyways. But it felt good to know he cared. To this day I still starve myself but the deep pain from when I started is now gone. My mom still comes out on top every time. And my father acts like he cares, I think that he thinks I am a list cause now. Nothing is ever going to change with my poor family...
AllMusicNoFood AllMusicNoFood
13-15, F
Jan 8, 2013