22. Love/Hate

I have an utterly irrevocable love/hate relationship with my eating disorder. Sometimes I love her. I love her when she restrains me from eating vile foods that will clog my arteries and stack on voluptuous layers of fat onto my thighs, my stomach, everywhere. I love her because she gives me a sense of control - I am a perfectionist, and I love feeling in control of myself. I crave perfection and satisfaction. A good work-out day or a good eating day (haha, good eating day = eating nothing. Oh, the irony) will make me happier than receiving compliments on something I've done, etc. I love her when she makes me lose weight. I get a natural high from being fueled by emptiness. I love her when she makes me fit into clothes that I have not been able to wear for years. I love her when I need to buy new clothes because my current clothes become too baggy. I love her when she makes me feel fragile, small, petite. I love her when she makes me feel like I could float on air.

Other times, I hate her. I hate her because she makes me feel useless, ugly, filthy, fat, and undeserving all the time. I hate her because she alienates me from my friends and other social gatherings. I hate her because she demands restraint but yet she makes me crave everything. I hate her because she is always there and sometimes I want peace in my mind. I hate her because she sometimes incites binges that make me feel like the taut skin on my stomach will stretch and explode because of all of the filthy food I have consumed. I hate her because on these binges, I feel like an animalistic beast, not a human being. I hate her because she makes me notice all of the girls who are fucking gorgeous and thin and twig-like, whereas she makes me feel like an ugly stump on the side of a road, left to rot and wither. I hate her because I know that since I've accepted her, she will never leave my side again.