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My Eating Disorder - I Had a Problem with Food Essay

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My Eating Disorder - I Had a Problem with Food

Everyone wanted to see me get fat, I was sure of it. For once in my life I had some semblance of control over my body in a way no else did. Managing my body took discipline and I was not going to have anyone interfere. I sat crouched in the small space between my parents’ bathtub and toilet, the cool white ceramic tiles reflecting the blonde of my hair, the tears that somehow managed to eke out of the eye ducts were streaming down my hot, mucus slathered face. In the corner behind the toilet, the dog hair swirled in little eddies, and the rim of the toilet had faint speckles of urine, unnoticeable to anyone not at eye level. The shower was on and the fan running as a distraction. Every …show more content…

No one’s body can resist the gagging fit brought on by covering the epiglottis. The body actually adapts to constant gagging, and over time it takes more effort to make the stomach and throat submit, but once the epiglottis is depressed, the stomach immediately surrenders its contents. I had on several occasions been careless and forgotten to push down the little fleshy flap so that my fingernails caught the gill-like covering, cutting it as my finger was momentarily lodged, cutting off my air and making my throat sting with fresh blood. My gums were oozing and the sticky phlegm that coated my cheeks and lips was burning the open sores. My teeth ached. In my daze of ecstasy and exhaustion, I began contemplating the amount of blood dripping down my throat and hands, watching it pool with the green bile and snotty strings of mucus on the surface of the water. Perhaps I did have a problem. As I walked over to the scale, wiping my hands on the bath towel I wondered if throwing up was also making my hair fall out. I had been noticing that my hairbrush was full of long blonde hairs and my head was sore with oozing scabs and bloody patches. In the shower I would collect handfuls too thick to wash down the drain.

As I stepped on the scale I noticed a soft sobbing coming from the other side of the door. I heard my brother ask, “What’s wrong with Sarah?” The cold metal creaked as I stepped up on the bathroom scale, the noise announcing my secret

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