Bulimia

Well, I’m not in any kind of glamorous place right now. I’m sitting on the cold floor tiles in my mom’s bathroom, neck bent over the toilet. I’m not proud of what I do, really, I’m not. I just don’t know how to stop. In the last year and a half, I’ve lost about 25 pounds, and everyone’s constantly telling me, “You look great!” “You’ve gotten so slim.” “You have an excellent figure.”
Recently, I’ve felt prettier and better about myself than I’ve ever felt in my life. Some guys from my middle school have messaged me, told me I’m gorgeous. These are guys who would have never given me the time of day back when I was awkward with braces and glasses and chubby cheeks. It’s flattering, of course.
But then, there are moments like this, when I’m slumped over the toilet, teary-eyed and forcing myself to throw up everything I’ve eaten. In moments like this, I don’t feel so pretty. I feel repulsive and ashamed and sinful and alone.

I need you, Jesus.  So much.  You love me, I know, and You hate to see me doing this to myself.  Lord, please help me to get better.

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