Visit me sometime, said the dessert plate.
One more slice will not hurt.
No one would know.
There’s always room for one more.
One more piece of chocolate.
One more slice of pizza.
One more stick of butter.
The mirror became the enemy.
Shrieked at the jiggling flab.
Mocked at the increasing weight.
Fumed at the new plus sizes.
The toilet bowl understood though.
Gave the nerve to ram my fingers.
Helped in ignoring the vile taste.
Cheered by showing the flat tummy.
My head strayed on its way back home.
Cigarettes were the slimming pills.
Alcohol roped in mock-happiness.
Drugs erased traces of grim reality.
My body started giving up on me.
Only dismal escapades in bed.
Blackouts a steady companion.
Painful withdrawal while resisting.
Visit me sometime said the toilet bowl.
One more puke will not hurt.
No one would know.
But… I would know.
Inspired by some dark conversations and confessions shared with an aspiring model. Anthony at dVerse has us spilling our beans tonight at the pub. Join in and share yours…
An Armchair Perfectionist 