You Won't Do This Again

That's what I tell myself every time I find myself there, huddled in the corner of the bathroom. I know I should probably get up and brush my teeth. I've heard all the horror stories of what throwing up can do to you. That scares me too. Not enough to make me quit. Instead I just sit there looking at my reflection. It feels like it's staring back at me. Judging me. Looking at me with contempt. "I won't do this again," I promise him.

We both know I'm lying.

I'll be ok for a few days. I'll run a couple extra miles. I'll give myself strict limits about what I can eat. Then someone will invite me out for burgers and after in a fit of paranoia I'll be right back on that scale. Tape measure slung around my hips. Then I just have to throw up. I have to. It's this compulsion.

It feels like I've been this way forever. I haven't been. It's really only been the last 3 years or so I've forced myself to throw up. But I've always been this small. And when I started gaining weight it freaked me out.

All my life they'd complimented me on my thin hips, flat stomach, fine features. It makes you look taller, it makes you look younger, you look gorgeous. 

And that's all I've ever been. And I am still, to this day, so afraid of losing that. 

It sounds stupid even as I sit here writing it. God do I feel stupid. I think the hardest part about this that i feel so. damn. alone. This isn't a problem men are supposed to have, right? The eating disorder, the fear of not being attractive. That's the answer I've gotten anytime anyone has ever found out. 

What can I say to that? I just smile and say, "Hey, I'm gay alright. I practically qualify." IT doesn't stop me from feeling like ****. It doesn't make it better. It makes it so much worse. It makes me feel shallow. And disgusting. Like I deserve to be stuck this problem forever. Like it's fitting.

I don't know what I'm looking for with this. I don't know what I expect. I'm just tired of feeling so alone.