I'm bawling my eyes out because of 'Lovely Runner,' and my allergy is getting worse by the minute. I'm also having coffee while eating my favorite noodle snack—my second glass and my fourth pack respectively, in the past four hours. Not looking good for my eating habits. Which I have been trying to fix for the past two years by the way, ever since I have been diagnosed with PCOS. Definitely easier said than done.
Eating healthy is difficult enough as it is for a regular human person, but then PCOS symptoms make them impossible. I tell my mom that my life will probably be a lot easier if I have not had PCOS. In addition, food is a lot more expensive these days. And don't get me started with how costly supplements are. Still, I feel like I really put in an effort to watch my food in-take most days. I cook meals, pack them, and store them in the fridge so I can eat on time. I try to eat vegetables with every meal. I lessen my sugar and meat consumption. I limit my coffee up to two glasses. I even quit smoking. But on bad days, I surrender and tell myself, 'fuck, it, I want to eat.' So I consume just the right amount of cooked food to convince myself I eat healthy, then fill myself up with obnoxious amount of junk foods. After giving in to my cravings, I go through all stages of grief—all that while feeling bloated and sick. I loathe myself every time that happens. And it happens more often than I admit.
I look in the mirror, and I hate what I see. I look in the mirror, and I question the authenticity of what I actually look like. Are my eyes lying to me? Is this mirror lying to me? Are these photos lying to me? There is a name for this feeling, right? Wherein you feel too conscious of your body because you feel fat. You step on the weighing scale every time you pass it. You measure your waist after every meal. You try on clothes you bought a year ago to make sure they still fit. You obsessively look at your old photos and videos just to check if you have gained another pound. And you try to reach over 10,000 steps a day like your life depends on it. Sometimes, you starve. Most times, you curse yourself as you open another pack of a 450-calorie snack.
I have been very self aware about this, and it's the first time I'm putting it into writing. It makes it seem more real... and greatly disturbing.
In the past years, I take offense when people tell me I look very thin. Because they have not the slightest idea how hard it had been feeding myself without an ounce of appetite. These days, I hate to confess, I feel a certain glee every time someone tells me I should gain weight. But that does not last. Because anger instantly claws its way up thinking how people still confidently open their mouths, and comment about other people's weight in 2024.
I hate how I have become this person. I still suffer from gluttony. But food excites me now.
PS: Please note though that I do not want to throw that word out there lightly. I definitely understand the gravity of such sickness, especially on people who are actually going through it.
(c)
