Mia and Me 2

I gulped down a can of pepsi and finished 2 huge pieces of chicken. Three tasty cakes were swallowed easily along with a handful of chips. I stuffed goldfish and chocolate, cookies and swedish fish. After overcoming a slight faint, I steadied myslef and stumbled to my bathroom. I collapsed onto the hard, tiled floor and yet again pulled my head over the toilet. Piles of red, yellow, black and orange particles exploded out of my mouth and spewed all over the once clean toilet seat. I shoved my fingers down my throat once more, eyes filled with forced tears and face red with guilt. My nose was running and my hands smelled. Makeup was slowly being taken off with sweat and my stomach burned with acid. 1

After cleaning my face off, wiping up the bathroom and washing my hands, I ran upstairs to grab a few pills from my backpack. No one ever went through it, so i figured it was safe. I felt bad as it was, and when i decided i really didnt want the pain of several pills churning inside my belly that night, little voices overwhelmd me. It was her, that angry monster, clawing at my insides. She yelled at me to take the pills and to savor each one of them. She told me i wouldnt be worth living if I was fat and ugly, and the pills and purging would make me beautiful. She had complete control over me. She would even make me cut myself when i would refuse to purge. I never wanted to die, but she insisted and sliced the delicate flesh of my wrist when times got too hard. She let the blood trickle down my arm. She was the one that did all of this harm. 2

I looked back at dinner that night, when I had swallowed my meal too fast, a habit of my disease. Vomit was coming up, I could feel it and everyone was looking at me. My brother, who never wanted to be involved with me had a worried expression on his face. My clueless Mother didnt give a crap, yet my father asked what was wrong. I managed to say "nothing" without any puke spilling anywhere. I pulled my baseball cap down far enough so that no one could see my red stained eyes and my pale face. 3

My best friend knew about my addiction, my problem, my bulimia. She understood how I felt. I didnt want to be thin so a boy liked me. i didnt want to be thin so I could fit in or have confidence changing in front of the other girls in gym class. No, i wanted to be thin for myself. My dream was to be a proffesional runner, a catwalk model, a fashion designer, a photographer, a beautiful mother. And none of these could be done without being skinny. And plus, I wanted to please the gruesome monster inside me, ordering me around. i wanted to make her happy and suceed. Although, it wasn't until that night that I realized she would never go until she got rid of me first.