Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I want to get thinner, but I’m afraid.
    I’m afraid it all starts again.

    I was 14.
    Classmates laughed at me because I was fat.
    It came to a point when I thought that for having friends, for having a boyfriend, for being accepted, you had to be thin.
    So, I wanted to be thin.

    I started cutting down on food.
    Don’t eat the cookies you’re given for breakfast or just eat a little part of it.
    I stopped having breakfast.
    I hid it in my schoolbag.
    I gave it away to a different person every day.

    I started skipping lunch.
    At first, I would say I wasn’t hungry.
    Then, as I was home alone, I wouldn’t eat but they would realize I hadn’t eaten.
    I would put some food on the plate, play with it for a while so that the dish would look dirty, I would put the food back into the pan/pot and leave the dirty dish on the table.
    No one knew.
    If it was fish or chicken (counted pieces) I’d play with my portion on the dish, leave some tiny pieces on the dirty dish and give it all to the dog.
    He saved me.
    Or not.

    I was eating once a day: dinner.
    We would all eat dinner together so that was something I couldn’t skip.
    Plus I was extremely hungry.
    I didn’t eat much, though, usually, half of what was on my plate.
    I would say that I wasn’t hungry or that I had eaten a lot for lunch.
    Sometimes, I would skip dinner too.

    But then it was summer holidays.
    Oh, what a hell.
    Not only the yelling, the hitting, the insulting.
    Now, food too.
    And what would happen when school was back?
    I was gonna be extremely fat!

    I had breakfast, lunch and dinner for two days.
    I felt sick.
    I was disgusting.

    I would get up earlier than anyone just to say: “Oh my, you sleep for ages! I already had breakfast!”
    I would go to a friend’s house at around noon and say I had just had breakfast and I would wait for her to have lunch.
    I would go back home and say I had had lunch at my friend’s house.
    Her parents and mine never talked to each other.
    They never found out.
    I would skip lunch once a week and a half.

    High school started again.
    Things were just the same old shit.
    But it was easier to skip food.
    I start coming home after dinner time so no one will see what I eat. Or what I don’t eat.
    I start skipping dinner once a week.

    That classmate pukes her food.
    She’s really thin and sick.
    She finds it difficult to walk and often faints.

    I get tired easily.
    I feel dizzy quite often.
    I kinda see myself when I see her. “Stop thinking that, you’re not puking your food, you fool!”

    I start skipping dinner more and more often.
    Sometimes I only eat once every three days, when I feel really bad.
    Not too often, tho.

    That classmate has written a letter.
    She’s at hospital.
    She won’t be back in a while.
    A long while.
    She describes her bad habits.
    Some are the same as mine.
    She describes how much she regrets.

    I force myself to start eating three times a day.
    Not “too much” at first.
    Not normal portions, I mean.
    I just don’t want to be taken to hospital like her.
    I force myself to eat a piece of cake.
    I force myself some pizza.
    I force myself to eat normal portions every day.

    I eat normal portions every day.
    May I be hungry or not. I eat.
    I force myself a snack every afternoon.

    Now normal portions look little.
    I always think I may not be eating enough.
    And I’m too used to chocolates and cookies and sweet things.
    I may need them, I’m not sure.

    Now I’m fat again.
    I really am.
    I want to get thin.

    I am scared.
    I really am.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.