Remembering


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Sunday night and all of Monday I was clutching the cold porcelain after every meal. My stomach clenching and throat tightening, tears streaming from my eyes from the sheer force of the sickness and the feeling of helplessness that slides over you when you can't keep a mere cracker down.

Thanks barbecued beef that was apparently left out on the counter overnight.

I hate it. But it reminds me of when I loved it.

I loved the feeling of hunger, the scratching at my throat, the acidic scrape of my teeth, the sting of tears and mascara as it ran into my eyes and the furvative trips to the bathroom.

Yesterday, as I huddled pathetically on the floor, I remembered I used to live for this. For the emptiness. For the pain. For the putrid reassurance I was doing something about the fat on my thighs.

Last night, I saw myself in the mirror. My cheeks are fuller--perhaps too much so. My tummy is rounder that I would like it to be. My body isn't nearly as thin as I would like. Yet, it will never be fat enough to do that again.

Lowering yourself to cowering like an animal in the hidden corner of the bathroom.

As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool to his folly.


1 Responses to “Remembering”

  1. Anonymous steelcowboy 

    Hope you get to feeling better kiddo. :)

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.


I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.


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