"Eat your soup Vikk. Just do it this once."
I put on a fake smile and push a spoonful into my mouth. My mind was screaming at me to stop, don't eat, don't swallow it, while it was also telling me to obey my parents. I couldn't disappoint them. I managed to force the single spoonful down.
"There."
"Good job." They praised, immediately moving to trying to force me to eat again. I did as they asked.
After dinner I run straight to the bathroom and ram a finger down my throat, hoping for my gag reflex to kick in and cause me to throw up the disgusting dirt I put in my body. It worked, and I spent the next ten minutes retching and expelling the pitiful amount of food I had eaten that meal. The burning sensation was almost comforting now. It meant I had some semblance of control.
People always asked why I just can't eat. They're usually old people too, that don't even know half of my life and everything I've been through. I mean, it's not like I don't want to eat- I do. I really do. But I think I'm fat. I was overweight as a child, maybe 150 pounds at 14 which was considered fat, especially for someone my height. Within two years I dropped down to 80 pounds, a weight that was considered dangerously underweight for... anyone. But I still felt fat.
I maintained that weight for another two years, and then I was 18. I hid it under oversized hoodies, continued to never eat. I hated it. I just couldn't eat anymore. I had a huge self image problem.