I was
dreading
the family dinner. In honour of my birthday, it's not like I could beg off. But I've just started to get back on track diet-wise, restricting, and I knew the tantalizations and scrutiny would shatter my already-weak resolve. But it was important to my parents, so I bent (broke?) without resistance.
Bread course. One piece, I told myself. Just one. Butter-slather, dainty bites, sip of water between each. You can do this.
Second piece. Couldn't resist. Come on, it's my birthday. Salad.
Then the main course, steak and mushrooms, absolutely delicious. I was already full, but I knew I had to eat a litte bit. So in I started. Polite, ladylike, small bites, interspersed, slow. But I couldn't stop. Bite bite bite one after the other stomach screaming for me to get this out out out but I can't I just have to keep eating have to keep going have to keep hurting shaken fragmented resolve uncomfortable spilling out too much too much remember how it used to be when I couldn't stop myself
couldn't stop
regret, fear.
can't
stop
Flashback to the days when bulimia had me in its throes.
I downplay it to myself now, looking back, but it frightened me.
