Day 7—Parents.

Well the question today is if your parents know you're trying to lose weight. Mine don't, my mom may have a slight idea BUT she's always been tiny and obsessive over the way she looks so I don't think she would ever do anything. My dad is a little overweight and also slightly oblivious about stuff so I don't think he'd ever really even notice.

On another (way overused) note, I am a giant fatass. I hate myself. I hate my obsession with food and my obsession with the scale. These two things are constantly fighting, playing tug-of-war with me in the middle. I love cooking, I love trying new recipes, I appreciate good food. I also binge eat. And then I cut myself when the scale tips at hugely massive, whale-sized weight. Which is always. I don't know what to do. I don't know why I can't control myself anymore. Why the hell can't I stop eating? I don't understand. I don't get this. What the hell is wrong with me? I know I don't think normally—normal people don't think not eating is ok. I think it's the only way, and that I'm disgusting for eating. That being said, normal people don't eat their weight in food.

ANA. Help me. Save me from this fat, weak person that I've become. Stop me from eating. What the hell is my problem.

This is torture. Self torture in the form of eating without stopping. I'm not hungry. I'm sick from looking at myself. I have literally gained 15 pounds in like a week. This is sickening. I'm disgusting. I'm an embarrassment.

Tomorrow I am not eating. I am not going into the kitchen. I am not going to try things at work. I am going to be strong. I am going to be controlled. I am going to find Ana. I am going to have her hold my hand as I get back on track. I am going to make another red bracelet. I am going to wear a red rubber band again to snap when I want to eat. This is happening. 135. Lets go.

-A.