who needs food, right? you stare in the mirror in disgust, hating everything. your face, your body, how the fat jiggles on your legs as you walk. disgusting. all you can think about is getting thin, and you obsess over becoming one of those photoshopped models. you skip meals. and count your hours, beaming with pride. 16 hours. 27 hours. 2 days. you promise those who are worried that you'll stop and eat normal when your happy, but after weeks of deprivation, your veins rise to the surface of your wrists, screaming for nutrients. you adjust to the hunger, and your stomach growls quieter and less violent. pound after pound drops away, and your ribs burst through, your knees and elbows pop out and your collar bones emerge. you look in the mirror again; and your still not happy. fat.
