As a child, food was love, it was caring and comfort. The years went by and the consequences of eating as if it would lend me the keys to heaven started to show.
Like my insecurities, the weight pilled on, suffocating my sense of worth. Eventually I snapped.
What was once fulfilment, suddenly turned into a threat. A threat to my satisfaction, to my self esteem and well being. I don't need food. I need to see my bones.
Panic settled in as food was offered. Threatened. A bite of toast would make me gain weight weight and lose chances. The chance of being everything I ever wanted to be: skinny.
But since I was fat, one seemed to notice it in a negative light. "You look good, you lost some weight!" Thank you for feeding my starvation.