Wednesday, 1 February 2012


I go to the cinema in Bluewater with my mum today and then we look around the shops. As I walk I feel my thighs brush past each other, only a few pounds away from being glued together, I feel my butt wobble and ripple so much that it might as well be filled with water, I feel my stomach and my hips poking out of the leggings digging into my fat sides and front, I feel my bra that was once too big for me digging into me under my arms, and I feel my chin roll into two parts when I put my head down. I feel the chocolate bar I ate today in those brushing movements, the full pasta dinner I had last night in those ripples, the countless bowls of cereal in my sides, the crisps I binge on under my arms, and the biscuits I scoff down under my chin.

As I come across a style of shorts I've wanted for a while now, check the size and feel delighted to find that they're the size I wanted to see on the tag, I rush to try them on....But I'm soon standing there staring at the person in the mirror. Glaring at the flesh bursting out of the fabric, the zip barely lifted and the buttons miles apart. As I continue to stare at the disgusting person I no longer recognise, I peel off the shorts made for a beautiful thin woman, and let a tear roll down my cheek.

I feel ashamed. I feel disgusted. I feel pathetic. I feel fat.


"If only you could see the beast you've made of me, I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free."

Posted at 17:39