Clucking bell

I'm sorry that I haven't posted in such a long time.

I swear it wasn't my fault.

No, I lied, it is.

I don't know what happened. I've lost track of time.

I binged, a long time ago, and I binged again, now.

So, so stupid of me. I told myself, "Just one little bite." And then, there went the entire box. Then it was, "Just chew and spit it out." And then it was like some puppeteer had opened my throat and down all the food went, straight into the gullet, trapped forever until it was transmuted and added to the copious amounts of fat around my waist and thighs. And then it was "Well, eff this, you've effed up so badly, just go effing eat more, effing fat pig..."

Back to where I started, or at least thereabouts. I don't even want to weigh myself to check.

Why does there have to be so much damned food in this house?! Why does my mother accuse me of pigging out when all the packaged cereals and cookies and fast food and candies are so easily within reach, just sitting on the shelf or refrigerator waiting to be picked up and eaten? Why are all the vegetables hidden somewhere in a bag in the back of the fridge, so that if I actually want to eat a healthy lunch of carrots and mushrooms and lettuce and egg whites I have to dig around for it, ask repeatedly where it is, and then get yelled at for being irritating?

So unfair. Everything seems to be my fault.

I hate my fat. I wish it would just go away.

New plan to prepare for the binge-fest known as the We-Haven't-Seen-Each-Other-for-3-Weeks!!! Sushi Dinner with the Boyfriend when I return to school.

MUST. FAST. UNTIL. SCHOOL.

Nothing allowed except water and Coke Zero.

FLUSH EVERYTHING OUT.

MUST BE CLEAN AND BEAUTIFUL...