My Face Hurts

I went shopping today hoping to buy something to wear tomorrow for Easter. Not because Easter is some special occasion I wanted to dress up for but mostly because I’ve outgrown everything and have nothing to wear that’s not a black muumuu. I was pretty for the larger numbers to look for, I’ve been preparing myself for the larger size. I look in the mirror at my larger body and try to accept what is reflected back at me. I thought I was ready.

I was wrong. The sizes were fine, it was my body that got to me. I went to 2 stores and visiting each of the dressing rooms. I had a moment in each one. Telling myself that it was okay and it is what it is and it is just a body. I told myself that my body was not me and that I am so much more. I didn’t buy the bullshit. Deep breaths weren’t making it go away. My eyes watered and throat constricted and I stifled the cry. I kept it together until I slammed my car door shut. And then I sobbed all the way home.

I sobbed like a child, lip quivering sobs. I still tried to tell myself everything is okay. But I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I don’t know how I can keep going in this body. I can’t handle it. It’s not okay. I can’t face anybody like this. I’m going to be sick tomorrow and flake yet again. I can’t bare to see my family. I can’t smile. I can’t lie and say I’m fine when I’m asked how I’m doing. I want to die. I hate this. At least when I was wrapped up in my bulimia I didn’t feel this. These REAL feelings. Sure I was numb but numb is manageable. Lying was second nature. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hold myself together.

Fuck recovery and it’s fucking fatness.

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