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tryingtobeskinnynow · 1 year

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Fat Girl with an Eating Disorder

I’m the girl that is visibly fat, but struggles with an eating disorder. No I don’t say this to get attention when I'm mid size, or because I feel fat but not actually. I say that because its the truth.

I’m the girl that's over 200 pounds that struggles with weight in every sense. I restrict some days, binge horribly the next.

I’m the girl that always feels invalid because I'm so big that it means I can’t be anorexic because you can’t see my bones.

I’m the girl that all through school openly spoke about restricting and calorie counting, but no one worried about me because they new I was fat and needed to lose the weight.

I’m the girl that has damaged teeth, and dried out stingy hair that I lose in clumps due to improper nutrition.

I’m the girl that has brittle nails and bad skin.

I’m the girl that developed a heart condition in 9th grade and was told how mysterious it was to have. Only to find out later it was due to improper nutrition. I was undiagnosed because a fat girl can’t have an eating disorder.

I’m the girl that covers mirrors so she doesn't have to see her body in it.

I’m the girl that has cried herself to sleep because she thinks no-one will love her because of her body.

I’m the girl that never got into a relationship because it meant they would touch and feel my disgusting body.

I’m the girl that no one noticed was struggling.

I’m the girl no one noticed at all.

I’m the girl that is now 24 years old with a damaged, dying body, never been touched, or loved by another and still continues to want nothing more then to be skinny.

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what-even-is-thiss · 1 month

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Got an assignment for class to write some short poems that go together thematically

I don’t talk about my past with eating disorders much but for whatever reason I felt like writing about it this week.

#tw eating disorder #roman said a thing #roman wrote a poem

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diaryofagirlx · 11 months

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Today I ate 1046 calories.

It’s all numbers, it’s all calories it’s all calories and calories and calories.

This disease thrives on numbers

That tells me my worth in decimals

I need to stop being so greedy

Divide that number by 2, 3 ,4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Or just suck it in til’ I suffocate.

#tw ana diary #tw ana shit #tw disordered eating #poetry #poems #pro a4a #ana stuff #edblrr #ed binging #ed vent

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waitingforthesunrise · 7 months

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picking up the slender smile

you dropped. and broke. and left.

pushing up your cheeks with sticky fingers

(you no longer hear your heartbeat. gravity sleeps in your bed and combs your hair

plants heavy kisses on the back of your neck.)

you tip your head back at the party

scrape your nails across the candy wrappers

and you’re gulping: electric blue, purple hot

like the heavens you pray to.

cinnamon caramel, ribbons of heavy chocolate (burdens) tangled lemon sweetness (a gift.) you’ll be sweet to the back of your throat — words weighted and

choked down like cinnamon.

love is choking on the act of breathing

but singing every prayer.

Really? I think you’re looking to shatter heaven

tender girl, lovely girl (you’d last

one day in the forest. don’t fool yourself).

The loudest voices were always your own.

you long to be held

but don’t want to be touched.

everything is right but you.

#original poetry #poetsandwriters #poets on tumblr #poetry #beautiful words #poems and poetry #spotify #poets corner #spilled ink #tw food mention #tw disordered eating

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w1tchytr1als · 2 months

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When I tell Jesus I’m eating Oranges, He Understands-

That it means the bones in my wrists are getting less prominent.

That the soft scent of citrus is lingering on my jacket.

He looks at me and laments every time I denied myself the simple pleasure of juice

Running across the lines of my palm;

The peel and rind turned into candy.

In the morning, I will crave clementines and

I won’t shake when my nails puncture the vibrant outer peel.

Noon rolls over and I eat an orange.

Night falls and my wrists still smell like citrus.

Night falls and we play the game where I turn good news into confessions;

And I tell you less about the act of eating an orange and more about

How I thought you would love me more if my breath didn’t smell like fruit.

But tonight I want to go buy a small bag of them,

Turn the netting into jewelry and fill

My body with tangerines that look like setting suns.

When I tell Jesus I’m eating oranges, he understands

Why this lent I will give up nothing,

And declare God as the smell of citrus

still lingering under my nails.

#lgbtqia #lgbtq #lgbt #queer #queer poetry #poetry #poem #poems #words words words #nonbinary poet #queer christian #queer pagan #ed recovery #eating disorder recovery #recovery #orange

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coffeexxcigarettes · 7 days

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Almond Milk

-

Sometimes I don't know what's actually me.

I'm sure that's confusing,

So hear me out, if you have the time.

I believe we are made of wires

And memories.

Pathways to which we learn lessons.

For example,

If you speak too loudly and are shushed,

The wire bends within you.

You learn to speak softer.

I'm not sure, I suppose,

If I really like almond milk,

Or if you taught me that there were good foods

And that there were bad.

I'm not sure if blending almonds with water really does taste better,

Or if the wire within me tangled into a ball

To fill my stomach instead.

I trusted you to teach me young,

Yet I have memories of us,

Counting every damn almond in the house.

Strange how I have no memories of us

Actually eating one.

x

..

..@nosebleedclub April 17th- Almond Milk

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thankgod4pattsu · 2 months

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So much beauty in self abuse.

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blowmygutsout · 30 days

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My love, Ana.

I met her at my lowest: when the room I slept at was no better than a cave, when being alone in the middle of a crowd was my day to day interaction, when life pushed me around like a helpless sailor on a sinking ship.

Even if I had already spoken with her once or twice before, the idea of progressing our relationship had always made me step back in the past. But not anymore.

I only started dating her for myself at first, for the jealous stares and the tight clothes, for the number on the scale and the praises from close ones.

Our relationship had been hard to maintain the first couple weeks because she interfered with my everyday life: lunch after class with friends, drinks in the tavern with cousins, dinner with family... I admit I sometimes had wondered whether or not she deserved all the fuss.

But, oh, man.

Slowly but surely, I had started to fall in love with her and she has ended up becoming the only thingI could think of: the touch of her bony, weightless, perfect body, the pleasant numbness I feel after treating her well, the way she always comforts me whenever I feel distressed...

The very thought of her makes me dizzy with love until my sight turns black and my feet gave me up, until I bang my head with the hard ground, until my hair starts to fall and until there's nothing more left of me than my undying love to her.

And I know her love's poisonous. I know she's someone my family and friends don't approve of; but she's the love of my life.

Because Ana is the only one that makes me beautiful.

#ed bullshit #tw ana trigger #low cal restriction #tw 3d vent #tw ed but not sheeran #tw ana thought #tw ed sheeran #bulimima #poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #ed not ed sheeran #disordered eating thoughts #tw disordered eating #tw ana rant #tw ana diary #tw ed diet

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fuckingwhateverdude · 11 months

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6.5.23

#weighed myself this morning like an idiot #it's all over im restarting my other eating disorder #my writing #my writing tag #poetry #original poem #spilled ink #vent writing #self harm tw #self hatred #mental illness

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sensitivekilljoy · 27 days

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#mental health #original poem #poets on tumblr #prose poetry #depression #disordered eating mention #su1c1d3 #original writing #trauma

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feralfemme-jpg · 4 months

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a poem a day | day 4

“yum”

in the morning i cleaned.

washed all the dishes that had

been sitting out for too long.

wrote a grocery list.

cut peppers and onions precisely

and didn’t even use it as an excuse

to cry.

ate the non-powdered peanutbutter

on normal bread and didn’t feel like

i had to be sad about it.

and i didn’t weigh anything

except the dry pasta (116g)

but i tried not to and

that was enough

at least for today.

find me here and here

#my work #/#a poem a day #art #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #prose #spilled ink #spilled poetry #writers on tumblr #writer #writerscommunity #tw disordered eating #tw ed diet #ed poem #ed recovery #recovery

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jxstmxx · 9 months

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me: doin absolutely nothing

my brain: kill yourself

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glasswaters · 10 months

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for this last day, for your pride and your pleasure, i offer from the depths of my guts, the thing that has made itself a burrow there.

it whets its teeth on the lining of my stomach. it curls its tongue around the lowest of my ribs. the tongue is barbed, see, and it takes with every lick pieces of me, until the bone shines white.

until it splinters, and the marrow lays bare.

oh, but it has long since stripped the hair from its skin. it has sat, sharp tongue and sharper teeth, and pulled them out by the root, until its pores bled. it dug teeth and tongue and claws into its lips until they lay, swollen and red, a smear in that wretched face.

its claws are dull, by now. they are stuck in the flesh of my guts, and they have broken at their joints. when i move, i can feel the points of them just under my skin.

don't worry about the teeth now, for they have long been lost. Spit out or pulled or simply wasted away in my stomach acid, there is not a single sharp edge left. its eyes are big and have always been framed by lashes longer than mascara can fake. its cheeks are raw, and bleed still where its beard once grew.

take it. wrap that tongue around your fist and pull. polish it, until barb and flesh are soft and wanton. the lashes flutter. the mouth yawns open. the feet are arched and when it turns its head, its pulse flutters in its throat.

this is a family heirloom. it was my mother's before it was mine, and she took care of it with silken gloves and her heart in her throat. with wax and tweezers and claws, she grabbed it by the throat.

I picked it up and wore it as a scold's bridle, with my tongue wrenched between its teeth and my lungs crushed by its bones. until my stomach had lost its pouch, until my vision spotted.

until my thighs gapped.

this year's celebration, i close out with a showing of my womanhood. for your pride and your viewing pleasure, i bare my insides. please don't take pictures.

please don't tap the glass.

#pride #happy pride 🌈#gender #gender identity #womanhood and me: an examination #terfs if you touch this post i am coming into your home and ripping out your throat #eating disorder mention #in which my metaphors are once again #body horror #growing up in the 2000s fucks you up: the poem #hi i am Not A Woman #this is coloured by that #obviously

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inksplashgirl · 6 months

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170

I’ve been gaining weight lately

My five foot six inch frame is packing enough

For the Body Mass Index to call me obese

And yes,

I know that thing was created when doctors were still prescribing cocaine,

But isn’t the princess supposed to be smaller than this?

Maybe I’m just the chubby, well-meaning housekeeper

Or the best friend with three lines, hyping up the main character

I know that everyone is supposed to be the protagonist in their own story, but my story has always been about everyone else

And now that I’m fat, I know why.

I laugh at how big I felt at one forty five, a weight I held for over two years.

I’ve gained twenty five fucking pounds in a short enough time that even my doctor is concerned.

I thought that eating enough for the first time in my life was a good thing, and now I’m fighting to open my mouth for a single french fry.

Maybe if I was thin…

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emmett-is-a-bad-poet · 2 years

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When I say that Michelle Obama gave me an eating disorder, I am not kidding.

Her “healthy eating” initiative in schools across the country acted as a gateway to body dysmorphia for me and probably millions of others, starting in the already uncomfortable moments in the elementary school cafeteria.

You see, my grandma is Thin.

She has always been thin, pretty, and privileged.

And she wanted me as her first granddaughter to be just like her-

Thin, Pretty, and Privileged.

I remember her shocked gasp in the Plus Size Girls section of our local JC Penney.

Back-to-school shopping was a misery, and she made it worse.

“That won’t flatter a girl your size” came out of her mouth so many times that it forever etched itself into my brain.

It was through shopping with her that I first learned to hate my body.

Then, Michelle Obama’s face was plastered all over my lunch room. The “Got Milk?” posters suddenly had company on the stained walls, and my lunch tray got much more pathetic.

If I ate what was given to me (or less), would I lose weight?

I couldn’t even concentrate on eating most days between memorizing the food pyramid and calculating my BMI on the 7ft tall thermometer-style wall hanging.

I was 10 years old, and already in the red. Soon enough, I would get heart disease and diabetes and lung disease and then I would die from fatness.

Fat.

I was fat.

I could challenge that a little easier when it was just my grandma and the Weight Watchers meeting host saying it, but how could First Lady Michelle Obama be wrong?

Even Wii Fit said I was morbidly obese no matter how many times I jogged with my Mii.

I may be bad at math, but keeping my calories under 1000 per day wasn’t too hard to track. Then it was 900. And 800. And 700. And 600. And then I stopped eating until I couldn’t anymore.

I stopped eating, but I did not get Thin like Michelle and my grandma. I stayed Fat.

And Fat was Bad.

So I started purging when I was 12, hoping that would be the hack that let me eat and still get skinny.

It did not work the way I had hoped.

Now, I am 23. I have permanent damage to my body from the years I abused it. My stomach no longer digests correctly, and my throat is scarred. I still panic when I eat.

And I am still Fat.

I wonder what Michelle Obama would think of me now…

Would she be proud of her contribution to my perpetual agony, or would she be disappointed that I never achieved Thin like my grandma?

Michelle’s Magic by Emmett

#eating disorder #disordered eating #food tw #food m #fatphobia #poem #poetry #michelle obama

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ame1lia · 7 months

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all an act

every time I glance at my fully healed scars

I can’t help but miss the blood

but now they are filled with little stars

like it was the flood

that used to cover them whole

playing my little perfect role

closing my eyes

ignoring my break down

covering the repeating cries

trying not to frown

it’s just me and this never ending feeling

about gaining weight, so unappealing

cause maybe this is all an act,

and nothing can be seen as a fact

it’s just me and the ambition

battling with my condition

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