With white knuckles, her hands grasp the pale porcelain sink as she tilts her head to look up at the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there was a faint trail of a rogue tear down her red puffy cheeks. Her nose was red and running. Shaking, she looked back to the porcelain bowl to see her left hand quivering as she rested on it. Her right hand points to her throat and goes deep and deeper still until she gags. Finally, the remnants of the custard she scoffed down around 13 minutes ago came out, next was the melted ice cream that started today’s binge along with clumps of red velvet cake.

Today started out so promising, she woke up confident, or at least as confident as she could be. She put on her favorite baggy summer shorts and a loose fitting top, and left the house with her head held high. She jammed in the car, ate her usual yoghurt and apple breakfast. It was all looking so promising. In fact, it was no better or worse than any other day she managed to stay on course with. Until she got home.

And just as every other she had failed to curb this self-damaging pattern, she ate and ate and then ate again. It started, as it normally does, she was so hungry having arrived home late. Put some fish on the stove and proceeded to snack on small bites to stop from turning ravenous. And as soon as it started, she found herself looking for the next best food to throw up before she was even done consuming the current one. It soon become a case where she couldn’t even taste the food she was eating. The food wasn’t in her mouth long enough for her taste buds to even get a glimpse of what the food was let alone the flavour compositions. Which it should of, those different flavour combinations could’ve been seen in restaurants the world over. Although I suspect the combinations weren’t to make the food taste better, it was just in order to consume more food in half the time.

Shoving and guzzling every known sweet, as well as some well hidden gems, in her place. By the time the fish was ready for her, she was bursting. She couldn’t possibly fit anything more, she was already filled to capacity. She felt uncomfortable and irritable as she knew what she had done. Hell, she knew as soon as she took the first spoonful of ice cream.

So, now she did what she had to do, the only logical thing she could think of to attempt to right this wrong she had done. She tied her hair, rolled up her sleeves and slipped into the bathroom when no one was looking. This is where we find her 20 min later. With one hand down her throat and the other balancing her on the porcelain. She knew she couldn’t get rid of everything, even if she had the resolve to force it for another half an hour, it wasn’t possible for all of her horrible mistake to be erased. Yet she pushed and pushed until her jaw was sore and her throat became raw. And like all junkies, she will continue to do this for weeks, months, and years to come.

You see, she has no real support structure, no real friend to care for her, and no real strength of will to stop this from happening again. Because just like today, every day starts, and ends the same, with her face down a porcelain bowl swearing tomorrow is going to be different.

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