You can look at those adorable puffy cheeks of yours.

Puffy.

Fat.

Funny how words can stick with you weeks after they've been said.

I never realised how good I was at mathematics.
Calorie counting is easy now, the addition a simple calculation I can do within seconds. It's a kind of twisted humor, the way I'm improving my mental calculation so rapidly through the most disgusting way possible.

In a way, it's addicting, this mental adding, calculating the amount of fat which enters my body each time I take a bite.
It's the type of meticulousness that I like, the type of order. The type of control.

The way I can make sure that I know exactly what goes into my body with each meal.

On the other hand, it hurts, too. 
Hurts to know that you're so fat you have to control everything that you eat, hurts to know that for the amount of effort you have put in, no one has even noticed, I've lost weight, but it's insignificant, no one knows, no one cares.
I'm not too sure what hurts more, my stomach, or my mind.

Or my throat.

I started on subtraction a week ago. 
--

Rice.
Subtract three hundred.

Apple.
Subtract sixty-five.

Carrot.
Subtract twenty-five.

It's all gone, now. 
I'm clean.

This method of clearing my stomach, it's useful, so useful. But it has it's price to pay.
It's indescribable, how much it hurts, throat raw and sore, gasping, out of breath, bent over the white porcelain, then flushing, both the toilet and my mouth, to get rid of all evidence and the sour, disgusting taste that now seems to be permanently on my taste buds. But it's worth it. It's working.

I think, the best thing about this is that I am completely in control. 
All this knowledge that I've gained, these calculations that I now do, they've made my life so much more structured, more organized.

I know this , by social construct, is wrong, disgusting.
But it's only wrong for people who aren't fat.
It's alright for me.

--

a/n: Another really short chapter...just to show the time that has passed and the descent into the disorder.