They say I shouldn’t purge, but how can I not when there is such a noticeable difference? If I couldn’t purge, then my arms would be lined from wrist to elbow with long, red cuts. Self-harm was how I coped before I learnt how to purge, and if I didn’t purge, then I’d go back to it. I would need a way to cope, and that’s the only other one that works for me.
This was after binging:
And then this was after purging out the binge:
This was after another binge:
And another purge:
When I binge, I’m like a shark on a feeding frenzy. I eat so much that my stomach visibly bulges. Those above binges would have consisted of liters of soft drink, full bags of chips, full bars of chocolate, bowls of pasta, several cups of hot-chocolate…
It’s disgusting, I’m disgusting, and I hate it. I hate what I do so much, but I can’t stop. Food is my cocaine.