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amateur-scribbler · 23 days

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Fat.

It’s a word that’s sitting in my stomach with weights tied to its feet. It’s floating down past the food I binged and then it’s watching the purge; making the toxic cycle complete.

It’s eating up space in my mind, this obsessive outlook about the size of my thighs.

I think I’d be happier, more loveable, and more confident if I was skinnier. I lie to everyone and myself about wanting to lose weight to be healthy when it’s all about the exteriors.

I know it’s not true, just my brain trying to make me want it more, by using a twisted methodology it has always used before.

My beautiful brain tries so hard to be helpful but, the whispered insults about my body to spur on change are only making me miserable.

I remind myself that the clawing voices in my mind won’t go away because I’m thinner, and I won’t magically love what’s in the mirror even if I weighed nothing more than a feather.

But, I like the grass.

No, not the bits of green in the salad, but the blades that reside on the other side of the mirror, where I assume the stars all shine clearer and of course my body is the type of unachievable perfection I’ve forever been dreaming of.

body dysmorphia is my best friend - t.k.o.

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coffeexxcigarettes · 1 month

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Almond Milk

-

Sometimes I don't know what's actually me.

I'm sure that's confusing,

So hear me out, if you have the time.

I believe we are made of wires

And memories.

Pathways to which we learn lessons.

For example,

If you speak too loudly and are shushed,

The wire bends within you.

You learn to speak softer.

I'm not sure, I suppose,

If I really like almond milk,

Or if you taught me that there were good foods

And that there were bad.

I'm not sure if blending almonds with water really does taste better,

Or if the wire within me tangled into a ball

To fill my stomach instead.

I trusted you to teach me young,

Yet I have memories of us,

Counting every damn almond in the house.

Strange how I have no memories of us

Actually eating one.

x

..

..@nosebleedclub April 17th- Almond Milk

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blowmygutsout · 2 months

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My love, Ana.

I met her at my lowest: when the room I slept at was no better than a cave, when being alone in the middle of a crowd was my day to day interaction, when life pushed me around like a helpless sailor on a sinking ship.

Even if I had already spoken with her once or twice before, the idea of progressing our relationship had always made me step back in the past. But not anymore.

I only started dating her for myself at first, for the jealous stares and the tight clothes, for the number on the scale and the praises from close ones.

Our relationship had been hard to maintain the first couple weeks because she interfered with my everyday life: lunch after class with friends, drinks in the tavern with cousins, dinner with family... I admit I sometimes had wondered whether or not she deserved all the fuss.

But, oh, man.

Slowly but surely, I had started to fall in love with her and she has ended up becoming the only thingI could think of: the touch of her bony, weightless, perfect body, the pleasant numbness I feel after treating her well, the way she always comforts me whenever I feel distressed...

The very thought of her makes me dizzy with love until my sight turns black and my feet gave me up, until I bang my head with the hard ground, until my hair starts to fall and until there's nothing more left of me than my undying love to her.

And I know her love's poisonous. I know she's someone my family and friends don't approve of; but she's the love of my life.

Because Ana is the only one that makes me beautiful.

#ed bullshit #tw ana trigger #low cal restriction #tw 3d vent #tw ed but not sheeran #tw ana thought #tw ed sheeran #bulimima #poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #ed not ed sheeran #disordered eating thoughts #tw disordered eating #tw ana rant #tw ana diary #tw ed diet

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sensitivekilljoy · 2 months

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#mental health #original poem #poets on tumblr #prose poetry #depression #disordered eating mention #su1c1d3 #original writing #trauma

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feralfemme-jpg · 5 months

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a poem a day | day 4

“yum”

in the morning i cleaned.

washed all the dishes that had

been sitting out for too long.

wrote a grocery list.

cut peppers and onions precisely

and didn’t even use it as an excuse

to cry.

ate the non-powdered peanutbutter

on normal bread and didn’t feel like

i had to be sad about it.

and i didn’t weigh anything

except the dry pasta (116g)

but i tried not to and

that was enough

at least for today.

find me here and here

#my work #/#a poem a day #art #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #prose #spilled ink #spilled poetry #writers on tumblr #writer #writerscommunity #tw disordered eating #tw ed diet #ed poem #ed recovery #recovery

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glasswaters · 2 years

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it’s funny, isn’t it, that I can’t eat coconut without feeling faint. that the texture of stuffed olives turns to foul rot at the back of my tongue, that cauliflower makes me sick for days.

isn’t it funny, mama, that the very food you love is what turns my stomach? xanthan gum instead of sugar, cauliflower instead of pizza dough. coconut fat instead of butter, coconut milk instead of dairy, coconut fat instead of oil, coconut laced in everything that ever touches your pans.

when i am fourteen, i bring home cadbury chocolate from England. to share, I say, smiling still. in the morning, none of it is left. my mother turns a whole packet of baking powder into her cake batter. i won’t eat that, i say.

she laughs.

when i am twenty-four, I try a vegan dish a friend made me, hours of love poured into a plate. you can’t taste the coconut at all. the first bite i take is foul by the time I swallow. it takes all day to get the taste out of my mouth.

(when I was just a child, I once ate twenty tablets of sweetener and cried for days. my mother looked at me and sighed.)

all my life, my mother diets. all my life, she swaps out fat for coconut. all my life, she weighs and she prods and chocolate disappears from the pantry.

by the time I am fourteen, I have an eating disorder. funny, isn’t it, the way the mouth remembers things?

#eating disorders #eating disorder recovery #eating disorder #generational trauma #sort of #dieting #food #on food and the memory of taste #on the way my mother paved the way for my unhealthy relationship with food #on my distaste for coconut #poets of tumblr #writers of tumblr #writerblr #spilled ink #spilled words #fatphobes dont fucking touch this post

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inksplashgirl · 6 months

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170

I’ve been gaining weight lately

My five foot six inch frame is packing enough

For the Body Mass Index to call me obese

And yes,

I know that thing was created when doctors were still prescribing cocaine,

But isn’t the princess supposed to be smaller than this?

Maybe I’m just the chubby, well-meaning housekeeper

Or the best friend with three lines, hyping up the main character

I know that everyone is supposed to be the protagonist in their own story, but my story has always been about everyone else

And now that I’m fat, I know why.

I laugh at how big I felt at one forty five, a weight I held for over two years.

I’ve gained twenty five fucking pounds in a short enough time that even my doctor is concerned.

I thought that eating enough for the first time in my life was a good thing, and now I’m fighting to open my mouth for a single french fry.

Maybe if I was thin…

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ame1lia · 8 months

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all an act

every time I glance at my fully healed scars

I can’t help but miss the blood

but now they are filled with little stars

like it was the flood

that used to cover them whole

playing my little perfect role

closing my eyes

ignoring my break down

covering the repeating cries

trying not to frown

it’s just me and this never ending feeling

about gaining weight, so unappealing

cause maybe this is all an act,

and nothing can be seen as a fact

it’s just me and the ambition

battling with my condition

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sherbetpoetry · 5 months

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I've written too many suicide notes at 3am

ive made my throat bleed from guilt

ive bled over a girl i liked

ive had men stare up my skirt at 12

all i wanted was for someone to love me

i did it all to be wanted

but all ive gotten is raped and scarred and skeletonlike

rose thorns and razor blades

almost gave myself a heart attack because i wanted boys to like me

all they did was call me loud and ugly

i just wanted to be loved

instead of love bites i got scar marks, catcalls instead of kisses

(this was written in 8th grade (i edited it a bit) and i just found it so i thought it would be nice to show improvement

#coquette #girl interrupted #girlblog #girlblogging #original poem #poem #poetry #poets corner #poets on tumblr #short poem #tw mia #tw sh implied #tw disordered eating #tw ed diet #tw sui ideation #tw sa vent

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deadwatered · 2 years

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grapefruit

#spilled ink #writing #poetry #words #poem #self love #writers on tumblr #writerscreed #weaksorry #loveserum #poets on tumblr #recovery #cptsd recovery #ed recovery #eating disorder recovery

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kurtvonney19 · 7 months

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define bittersweet

i don’t know how to savor my food

to let my mouth linger on a feeling

i never learnt how

instead i remove anything worthy of being savored

snacks

treats

they seem like a burden to me

so i hide them away

inside of myself

not letting myself linger on their sweet tastes

but instead, shoveling away at their sweetness

as if it’s a chore

as if it’s boring to enjoy food

i never learnt how to eat properly

and how silly does that sound?

to see you never learnt to eat

i don’t remember missing that class

but i must have

because how do some people eat

without thinking about it all day

without it exhausting them

meals are tiring

i prepare them in my head

and count everything as i do

when did eating become an equation instead of a necessity

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coffeexxcigarettes · 2 months

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Annabelle

-

My body twists

And contorts.

A different shape than it was,

An hour ago.

I don't dare move,

And warp the image again.

I let my eyes focus

From one part to the next.

Tug at my shirt,

As tears begin to prick at my eyes.

I pull at my sides,

My hips,

And a sob builds in my chest.

I've spent

An ungodly amount of time

Calling myself beautiful.

I've gone down every path

I've sat through every therapy session.

And yet I end up here.

In front of the ever changing mirror.

The familiar voice

Finds its way back to me,

In such a comforting manner.

"It's okay." It coos,

"I can fix it. I can fix everything."

And I know it's right.

Right?

x

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voicesandthoughts · 7 months

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I'm stuck in a washing machine

I don't even know what I look like anymore

but the voice promises to make me clean

Promised that I have the reins, that it's saving me

Do you want nutrition, or safety and love?

Do you want to be worth it at all?

The latter requires submission little dove

It sounds sweet, almost, but nothing like me

I fall for it all the same but..

I don't know what I look like and I don't know who I am

I hate gum and I have a collection

It sits on my tongue, next to these confessions

ready to boil what's in my lungs

and I sit on the center of this bridge, while I still can

while my mom's homemade pie rots in the fridge

and my nights turn away from cramming for tests

I count and measure and run and listen to the war inside my head about what happens next

I don't know what normal feels like right now

how to eat without feeling it settle under my skin

or hearing the montage of laughter begin

I've given up and almost given in

I don't know how to turn around without driving this flight into the ground

Six feet under or another six pounds thinner

I don't know what else to do this time around

Laying buried on the kitchen floor

Saying I don't want to be you anymore

.. but it's fine, I'm in control

I'm. In. Control.

#spilled thoughts #original writing #my writing #cw eating issues #disordered eating thoughts #tw disordered eating #poetry #poets on tumblr #poets and writers #my poetry #poem #poetblr

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broken-faucet-of-feelings · 10 days

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romanticize

TW: eating disorder

09/05/24

there’s nothing wrong, i’m just

sensitive to the touch.

that’s not makeup on my cheeks,

it’s my natural healthy blush.

i don’t cry over my breakfast

and i never skip my lunch.

dinner isn’t a struggle;

i just don’t eat that much.

i used to think this was romantic;

i thought it made me something sweet.

a girl who isn’t hard to love,

who hides a pain deep underneath.

i’d hoped someone would save me,

hold my hand and say “please eat,”

but that became more of a fantasy

with every passing week.

what i did feel was the anger.

like my veins were filled with fuel.

i had no source of energy,

so i had to burn my fuse.

i knew it was irrational,

i don’t have any excuse.

i tried to stomp the flames

and i just wound up scaring you.

every pang of hunger

adds a stitch between my lips.

the further i get from unloveable,

the closer i get to the ditch.

when my body burns,

i’ll dig a knife into the itch.

i could walk across the world and

wish i’d walked just one more inch.

#tw disordered eating #poem #poems on tumblr #spilled thoughts #spilled poetry #my art #poetry #poets on tumblr

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i-want-to-be-a-poet · 5 months

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i am hungry. perhaps i will starve.

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fairyinrecovery · 5 months

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i wonder if living on extremes is harmful or a solid basis for character development. balance is cool but have you ever tried oscillating between searing hot days and freezing cold nights. how all the blisters slowly solidify as the sun sets and your fingertips go numb after hours of being pierced by the heat.

this is how i describe my binge restrict cycles

#tw ed diet #mental health #relatable #female poets #tumblr poetry #poems and poetry #reading #my poetry #young poets #books & libraries #poetrycommunity #ed twitter #ed recovery #recovering #tw disordered eating #tw ana diary

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