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Food. And Pounds. 137 pounds to be precise. At five foot one. Never been fatter, thanks to food the nightmare is becoming my daily reality. My clothes don't fit, my body doesn't even fit. My skin shouldn't fit but it gets bigger as I do. Because of food. Because of corned beef Reuben with sauerkraut and salad with oil based dressing and crusty fresh bread rolls and baked potato skins and cookie dough and cookies and fruit and candies and everything I can find!
I used to be the smallest girl in the room, no matter which room I entered pretty much. A hundred nine pounds only and all my clothes were loose and my feet never hurt because they hardly had a thing to carry and I enjoyed my life. Wasn't cramped inside this overstuffed skin. Now I'm so padded the obsession can't even reach me through the fat. And I hate it.
One of the myriad ways to my heart is through my belly. I love food like I have a fat girl trapped inside me, and I really love trying new things or just really well-prepared favourites. Of course, once you reach my heart you'll find an empty room and a little note that says 'Got there first! -M' but hey, at least you tried, right? And I really appreciated the food.
My answer was potatoes, in every shape and form. Mashed, roasted, boiled with butter and salt, as all the different delicious varieties of chips, as Tayto crisps and Pringles... So versatile, so GOOD.
I've decided that I hate food. I'm pretty sure the only reason I eat is because if I don't I'll die. If there was any other way to stay alive without eating, I wouldn't eat. It just seems to cause problems. My mom thinks I'm anorexic half the time because I'm not hungry, then when I finally get hungry I can't find anything I want so I lose my appetite. Or I'll feel bad for going an entire day without eating, so I'll end up forcing myself to eat something. I just don't like food.