Work Text:
Everywhere I look, there’s food. I’m surrounded, cornered by the stench of sugar and fried bread, things that I would never subject myself to consuming. To my left Maya has a milkshake from Chick-fil-A, behind me Kate has a golden eagle from Dutch. Somewhere to my right, a girl is pulling the crust off of a PB&J, taking large bites of the homemade concoction, while Lexi shovels heaping spoonfuls of yoghurt with granola and chocolate chips into her waiting mouth.
I know my annotated bibliography won’t write itself, but there’s so much food around me and my stomach won’t stop rumbling, and why is there so much food? A lollipop is unwrapped, an energy drink with an ungodly amount of sugar is chugged, Susannah’s throat bobbing as she forces the vile liquid that she insists on liking down her slimy oesophagus. It’s after lunch, so why does everybody still have food? This is AP Lang, for god’s sake, not the cafeteria.
Do these people have no self-control? Do they not gain weight after eating like animals multiple times a week? I feel like I’ve gained five pounds just by witnessing them consuming all these calories! The crunch of goldfish is almost loud enough to cover the smacking of my gum, but not quite. I gnaw on the rubbery mint ferociously, mouth desperate for food to chew on, stomach angry for being denied that luxury. I’m better than them. If I can resist my most basic natural urges like this, then imagine what else I could do. I always take care to hide the surge of pride that overcomes me whenever one of my friends complains about being hungry despite them having had breakfast and lunch already, something that I myself rarely indulge in.
I know this isn’t normal.
Normal people don’t have a ziploc bag under their bed, stuffed with rotten food because their parents check their trash bin.
Normal people don’t throw slices of cake at the wall in frustration.
They don’t have a notebook filled with measurements and lists of food they forbid themselves to eat. Pages with every morsel accounted for, search histories asking how many calories are in a singular skittle.
Normal people don't have bruised spines from doing sit-ups in the shower, or keep clothes that they've outgrown in hopes that they'll be small enough to fit them again one day despite no longer having the body of a child.
They don’t pass out in school bathrooms and take their measurements multiple times a day because they don’t have access to a scale.
They don't do this.
So why do I?