I Will Eat Today

She wakes. Yet to move, her mind instantly picks up from where it left off, filtering slowly into the translucent depths of sleep. She looks down as her fingers search ravenously for the spikes of her hip bones, and feels for the hollow between them. Worried about her metabolism, and sick of the thick acidic taste of her mouth, she decides resolutely “I will eat today”.
Suddenly sure that her abdomen is more bloated than the night before, she quickly sits up, sending dizzying waves of hunger piercing through her. After a few moments her vision clears and the hunger pangs fade, her morning dose of reality already passing. Determined, she goes to the bathroom and steps gingerly onto her scales. Relief floods her senses as she sees the numbers rest lower than the day before, but this is instantly replaced with annoyance and self-loathing as she fumes at herself for their too-many digits. Her resolution is tested already, and she becomes anxious with even the thoughts of food that are entering her mind.
As a compromise she starts her morning exercise routine with extra vigour, figuring that if she burns the extra fat early she can enjoy her prize later. Finally, dripping with sweat, she starts to get ready for her day, deciding that breakfast is too dangerous – if she eats something now she may not stop. Her meal must be for lunch.
On the bus she tries to plan what she will have, the continuous movement of her legs and feet now merely a subconscious calorie-burning act. She thinks of all her favourite foods, trying to imagine which in itself is the most worth the caloric set back. In her mind she savours the rich taste of chocolate, pizza, lasagne, muffins, ice cream, curry. Her thoughts become so bloated they scare her, and though a morsel hasn’t passed her lips she feels stuffed, and starts to regret her earlier, rash, decision. As she heads to the gym she is in a cloud of posibilities, determined to find that one perfect food.
Her morning lectures rush by in a haze of calories vs. taste vs. price vs. availability. She decides quickly that price isn’t an issue, yet the search continues. She is locked away in her own mind, blandly aware of her part in conversations, becoming increasingly of the opinion that she really isn’t very hungry, and surely, eating when you aren’t hungry is just as bad as not eating when you are? She gets lost in a sea of confusion, trying to decide which argument is more logical. Is she doing the right thing, eating? Most people do it, so it can’t be too bad right? And her metabolism must be slowing down after fasting so long…this will do it good…Or is she just being weak? Is this some feable excuse to eat again, to be fat, to give up before she reaches her goals? Surely she doesn't *need* it.
Around and around, one thought chases another as she stumbles further into uncertainty. One sentence continues to ring in her head “I will eat today”, and despite her fears she pulls herself out of her bickering mind and suggests they go to lunch. Surely she can find a worthy food there.
She hangs back at the café, eyes searching the choices hungrily, studying them, eating them with mere sight. Conscientously she looks around, trying to make herself smaller as she wonders how she must look, a freak left staring at everyone else’s lunch. One by one her friends pay for their finds and go to leave, impatiently waiting for her to do the same. Resigned, she returns her diet soft drink to the fridge and goes to join them, meeting their inquiries with a small shrug and off-the-shoulder comment – “There’s nothing I really feel like”. It feels good to tell the truth, and they have become so used to her non-partaking that they accept this wordlessly and move on.
Later, as she gets a lift home with a friend, she stares out the car window still searching for the perfect food. Somehow her lucid mind settles on a slice of pizza from the local café and her friend agrees to stop by on the way. All the while she is inspecting her memories, disecting the pizza as it sits sensuous in her mind. Her fears and doubts are still circling and she worries that if they don’t arrive soon her resolve will fail.
As they make their way inside the shop doors, the butterflies inside her go crazy and at the sight of the greasy, oily pizza sitting on the tray her stomach drops and she realises the futility of her effort. She opts for something small and cheap, which sits, ignored, in her lap until heading straight for the trash when she gets home. She opens the fridge and finds a cold solace in the rows of water bottles staring back at her. Sighing she closes the door and picks up her skipping rope, thinking to herself –
Maybe tomorrow.