I feel like I'm balancing on the edge of a knife. Stability is but a wandering newspaper caught in a breeze; it is a loss of control with each draft. This is the reality for me. Securely strapped on the leash of Ana and Mia; my mistress changing in this constant battle, this struggle against the collar. I may fight back but, I do not intend to break free. I am a pet that knows not to bite back.
The allure of indulging coos to me, whether it is by satiation by food, sex, or my own vanity. There is a definite connection between bulimia and sexual promiscurity we are physically gluttonous, constantly searching to trigger a dopamine rush. Life would be so much easier if such a hormonal chemical would just come in pill form...yet I cannot help but imagine a bulimic downing the entire bottle in a mania to fill the emptiness we feel in our souls.
As for Ana, and our twisted obsession with low numbers, with protruding bones...she is indeed an encomposing, devouring force. The cold reminds me of her; soft autumn breezes striking as sharp razors as the scales number dips lower and lower. A sign of progression is what you'll tell yourself. Building a impenetrable wall of will power against the evils that go into the disgusting hole humans call "the mouth." Low sugar, low fat, low carb...or better yet, zero calories--the phrase that sends anorexics into a delightful frenzy. We diet, we fast, all the while telling ourselves "Twenty seconds on the lips, forever on the hips." How catchy, how hypnotic.
The truth of the matter is that once the seed of ED has been planted, there is no uprooting it. It is a weed of the mind, grasping our entire being and never letting go. Our bodies become our cages, and so we search for a key that does not exist. Oh well. Our trust can only go to Ana and Mia, let's hope they spare some of our sanity.
Striving and starving for perfection,
~Noi
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