About a year ago, I remember hating eating even in my own home. I still do.
During that year I would catch my mom watching me eat. I could see the disgust. That might've just been me being self-conscious, but the things she said to me were anything but me being self-conscious.
One night, I remember eating supper with my mom and my brother. It was also the same night I'd eaten the first meal in two days. That same day I bought a pair of sweats. They fit me fine, or so I thought.
I wasn't even halfway through my meal when she said, and I quote, "Sweats are supposed to be baggy."
My brother followed up with, "They are, mom. Leave her alone."
And my brother -- bless his soul -- didn't really help whatsoever.
My eyes stung, and I looked down at my fat legs. I pushed my meal away and booked it out of the kitchen. My mom was yelling at me to finish eating, and my brother was yelling at her for saying that.
I slammed my door and remember cutting my wrists. I wanted to die. I looked in the mirror and thought, 'God. I'm so fat and ugly.' I took off my sweats and changed into my pajamas.
I threw stuff around while crying my eyes out and I didn't eat the next day. I remember walking up dizzy and with my eyesight fuzzy. I remember being so hungry, but I talked myself out of eating breakfast because of what my mother said the night before.
My brother got me to eat something and he told me the sweats were baggy on me and mom was stupid.
After me talking to her about it, she agreed to shut the fuck up. But the damage's been done. Some days I eat two meals, sometimes one, and sometimes I don't eat at all.
I feel like passing out at my games because of my lack of eating. When I went to the doctor's three weeks ago, my blood pressure was dangerously low. Wanna know why, mom? BECAUSE I DIDN'T EAT FOR TWO DAYS BEFORE YOU DROVE ME THERE.
Now you boast and brag about how your daughter has dropped over twenty pounds in a month (exaggeration). Glad you find my disorder so fucking brag-worthy. And I'm ecstatic that you're so dense, you can't recognize the symptoms of my disorder.
So, thanks mom. For being the greatest, most encouraging mother a girl could ask for. Really. I'm truly grateful.
- L.
