I ate over 3000 calories today. I hate myself. I feel disgusted. I look. . . disgusting. Tomorrow, I’ll start the day with two large fucking cups of coffee to fill me up. And then I’ll wait until evening to eat. Tacos will be fine. Beef and vegetables. Maybe I should remove the meat? Guess we’ll see.

It’s rather scary. . . being unable to enjoy foods that you used to love. They taste the same, but it doesn’t give me the same feelings. The feeling of euphoria I had when I shared an utterly amazing meal with my mum. All I feel is guilt.

Food used to bring me happiness. “I’ll eat whatever I want, because it makes me happy”

Why can’t I do that anymore? Why does it only make me hate myself and my body. I’m overweight. I know I am. I always have been ever since I was a little girl, and my stick-thin friend told me that we — we were the skinniest girls at the playground.

I wasn’t, you were. Fuck you ****, for making me hate my body at eight years old. Fuck you.