But I didn't post about it here. I didn't share a before and after, because I'm starting to disappear.
I grew up in a household that was well-resourced, with three squares a day, perfectly portioned. It was all pre-determined, sectioned, prepared. No one ever asked me if I wanted seconds.
If I was hungry.
My grandmother would give me a worried look - force feed me homemade chocolate chip cookies until I cried to my mother and she made her stop.
I get the same worried look now from strangers. Or a jealous look from the woman who watches me pick up my breakfast order
"Well you can afford it, you barely exist."
I barely exist.
But this waffle is me trying.
I have tried not to exist. To apologize for existing. To fade into the background. To ask myself what
I'm really hungry for.
If only I could figure out what it feels like to be hungry.
My body has not broken to my will, the trickery of me coaxing it to do the things I had wished it would do. My mind has pushed and fed, then punished and starved the poor vehicle that carries me around.
Yes. I'm starving.
But am I hungry?