It’s happening as I check this label one more time, just in case I was wrong. It’s happening as I add and subtract endlessly in my head, always overcompensating just to be safe. It’s happening as I consider the lowest carb, lowest fat meal I can construct from the vegetables in my fridge. It’s happening as I step on and off the scales because they’re lying to me again. Why are they always lying to me? It’s happening as I pinch my sides and glance at my thighs as I pass by windows. It’s happening as I fast the time away, as I run, as I cycle, as I shake from exhaustion and low blood sugar, and feel the familiar dizziness of low blood pressure take hold. It’s in the lies and the fake smiles and the dim eyes and dark circles. It’s in that haunted tilt of the head as I eavesdrop – are they talking about me? It’s because I weighed more today, isn’t it? They can see it. They’re staring, they can see it. They’re gossiping about it. They can see it. I knew it. I knew it too. I told you. I told you they would notice. You need to try harder. You need to eat less. You need to exercise more. You need to do better.
Isn’t it funny, how fast a relapse can take hold? How quickly this disorder latches on to a moment of stress, a moment of weakness and of sickness, and turns it into an opportunity?
Here I am, noticing the relapse begin to unfold, the patterns begin to set themselves in place, yet I feel powerless to stop it.
Or maybe I just don’t want to.