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Dinner…

Dinner is the hardest meal of the day. With my stomach already full, all I feel like doing is throwing it away. Mum and dad sat me down and forced me to eat a bowl of spaghetti. I feel like total crap. I feel weak.

That’s what anorexia does. I can understand this logically, but not emotionally. Anorexia makes you feel bad even if you have no choice but to eat. It tells you that in the end no one can force you to eat. It tells me that even when they [mum and dad] literally drag me down to the dinner table, they can’t put the food in my mouth and make me swallow. Anorexia tells me that I chose to do that and because I made that choice I’m fat/lazy/weak/stupid.

I know I’m going to have to keep down this food, and it’s killing me inside. The voice inside me is taunting me, accusing me- fatty, fatty, fatty, fatty, fatty, fatty, fatty… etc.

Anorexia is a complete bitch.

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