Raising the stakes

Breakfast was quite degrading. My parents are just rubbing it in my face that they can get away with feeding me whatever the hell they want that will make me gain weight, it seems. That's probably just ED talking, lately I can't tell. I know all the food they give me is supposed to heal me, but I can't help feeling like if they just gave me normal amounts of food the evil thoughts of ED would subside. At the same time I realize that one, I am not at a healthy weight so I can't safely eat normal amounts of food without losing more weight, and two, that the only reason the voices would cease momentarily would be because they had been appeased, and I can't let them win that way. For breakfast I had a huge 3 egg omelet of cheese and bacon, 2 pieces of toast and a whey protein shake. Now that last part is the worst. 2 parts whey powder, 3 parts yogurt, 1 part strawberries. The result was something I felt heavily inside of me for the first half of the school day. The process of eating this first meal was not as hard as it could have been. I hated it, but I knew that if I pulled any crap like eating the meal really slow to lower their vigilance and then stashing the food in an odd jacket pocket, I'd probably be late for school. I'd just have to fend off the angry ED from filling my head with dissenting thoughts, easier said than done. Indeed, all of 1st period I felt contorted into a knot from the stress. I just couldn't stop thinking about food. I feared what meal would come next, and I still am fearing tomorrow. I can't console myself over the fact that I'm going to gain weight. It feels like a part of my livelihood is undone every time I gain a pound. ED worked hard to get me to a malnourished state and intends to keep me there. "You are weak" it tells me. "Why didn't you try harder to resist?" it seethes. I can't concentrate and I feel terribly crushed by the burden of these thoughts. "Shut up, I'm working on my mini mag" I scream at them. They abate, gradually, and I take a deep breath.

 Lunch comes next, with more degradation to be had. Because I can't be trusted to eat lunch on my own, my Mom drives to school, and I have to sit in her car in the parking lot while she watches me eat. I duck my head every time someone passes. What else does my Mom bring but Rubio's? Unfortunately in my compulsive way I know all of the nutritional information for every menu item, and it just so happens she got the most calorie dense item on the menu, the beer battered fish burrito. How cruel can one be? ED rears its ugly head. There will be retaliation. In a rage filled furor I devour the burrito, barely chewing it. My mother, ecstatic that I appear to be cured of my food phobia, congratulates me. I brusquely thank her and exit the car, heading straight for the bathroom. I enter the stall, shove my fingers down my throat, and dump my burden. I feel ashamed. In my food induced terror, I created another problem that will now have to be fixed. Purging is more addictive than simple restriction, more neurotic and terrible. I skip 3rd period and sit in the media center. I can't look anyone in the eyes. When I come home, my dad tells me he heard about how well I did on the burrito and lunch and pats me on the back. Come on. Thats when I remembered I had another appointment with Dr. Jacobs the next , where I would be weighed. My goose was cooked, and I realized the contingencies would probably be worse if I didn't fess up. I told them everything that had happened and my Mom called Dr. Jacobs. She recommended I be taken out of school. My parents, vindictive by my violation of their trust, comply. So here I am stuck at home, away from the only thing that makes my efforts relevant. I am determined now. No more set backs, I am going to follow the program, or else I have been told I will be hospitalized. How is that for motivation. I am really hoping I can finish the semester in school and that this will only be a temporary medical leave, but we will see.