#4

Spaghetti is where it begins. spaghetti topped with grilled chicken, alfredo sauce, and mounds of parmesan cheese. 2 slices of garlic bread. you stare at it hungrily, already feasting with your eyes. it's only nights like these you get to eat such rich food. you know that once you start, there's no turning back. you take a bite.

5 minutes later, your stomach is already bulging, but you go back for seconds. you hope your mom doesn't question this, only hours earlier you were boasting about finally weighing 138. you pile all the remaining food onto your plate and wait eagerly while it heats up in the microwave, tapping the counter, pacing. you breeze through the second helping, and you want more.

your mom begins to snore on the couch. a miracle. you quietly stand up and sneak back to the kitchen.

you pile slices of cheese on bread and put it in the microwave. you take a box of ice cream sandwiches out of the freezer and eat them as you wait. one after another, you're ravenous, frantic. bits of chocolate fall to the floor and you briefly consider eating them too. one by one, then the box is empty. you take the cheesy bread out of the microwave and get frustrated when it takes too long to eat. after that you devour a bag of expensive chocolate, sipping milk from the carton as you go. a few minutes pass, and the chocolate is gone. you search through the pantry, the freezer, the fridge, a crazed animal in search of sustenance. your stomach has expanded and is pressing against your diaphragm, making it hard to breathe. but still you want more.

nothing is good enough, so you swallow the remainder of the milk and grab 2 diet sodas out of the fridge. your mom continues to snore on the couch as you head upstairs. you're incredibly grateful for the unexpected privacy.

you're so full, it hurts to move. you close and lock the bathroom door behind you, set the sodas on the counter.

you tie back your hair, pin back your bangs. radio on, volume up, faucet on. you've gone through these motions so many times you don't even think about it. before sitting on the floor next to the toilet, you pull up your shirt and look at your bloated belly in the mirror. hatred boils in your chest. you think, look at that fat fuck. fat, pregnant, cow. huge, bulging, disgusting, fat fucking pig. your reflection makes you sick even before you do.

the first few minutes are a breeze, they always are. your body is glad to be able to breathe again, to be rid of the unnatural excess of food. big, compressed clumps of cheesy bread splash toilet water and vomit on your face, but you don't care. your fingers dive down your throat and you retch, again and again, the radio drowning out the noise. shove, retch, cough, spit, repeat.

5 minutes in, you lose your momentum. no matter how desperately you try to coax the food out of your gut, it won't budge. so you sit up, rinse your hand, and crack open one of the cans of diet pop. you chug the entire thing as fast as you can, ignoring the carbonation that makes your eyes and nose sting. you lean back over the toilet, flush for the third time, and keep going.

the soda trick works like a gem. instead of dry heaving, you burp, and with each insanely huge burp, a spew of food empties into the toilet. you smile as you purge, immensely pleased that the soda worked. then finally, after 15 minutes, you see what you've been waiting for; chunks of bright orange floating in the water. carrots were the very first thing you ate, munching on them as the pasta boiled. you're happy that you remembered to eat something bright first, so you knew when everything was out. you wipe your face, the toilet seat, the wall, flush everything one last time.

the purge has given you a high. you feel powerful. you feel amazing. you stand up and white dots try to knock you back down. you hang on to the counter as your knees buckle, slowly regaining your balance. even through this, you feel ridiculously empowered. you're weak and strong all at once. you straiten up, lift your shirt, and look in the mirror again. your hand grazes over the flatness, and you can;t stop grinning. right now, you feel like you could conquer anything. knock down a concrete building, jump off the roof and start to fly. the emptiness you've created makes you superwoman, unstoppable. your head buzzes with the high.

you pinch the layer of fat on your abs and think, only a few more pounds to go.

right now, you can do anything. easy.

~JH