I cannot take this much longer. I
am fat and gooey and mushy all over and I HATE it. There is no muscle, just goo. Pudge. Pudding. Yes, I am covered in pudding, that’s what. My body is merely a Ziploc bag full of pudding. Squishy, nasty pudding.

Dearest, sweetest mother,
Please please please please refill my adderal prescription so I can concentrate (on dieting and fasting diligently) and get my work done on time and thoroughly (so I can exercise more) and raise my grades (and lower the obscene number on the scale.)
You are the best,
Your daughter,
Margie.

I’m subconsciously beginning to wean myself off of food again; I catch myself calculating, counting measuring everything that I put into my fat, greasy mouth. I catch myself counting the number of times I chew, and spitting unnecessary food into my napkin. Drinking excessive amounts of anything. Filling my gut to the brim, nine parts liquid, one part food.

I felt hunger creep up earlier today. I pleaded with her to please stay but he made me eat.
I want lovely, lovely hunger back. I want her back to stay.
I will eat meal bars for the remainder of the week. And half of one for a snack. If forced.

Food:
b- three croissants, five small pancakes
l- ½ a serving of vegetable curry, one mini spring roll
d- meal bar, rice snacks
s- milano cookies, one reese’s cup

A new regime begins tomorrow.

Love you.
Margie.