I walk into the mall. For what? I can’t fit into any of the clothes they sell here. None whatsoever. I think it’s hilarious that I actually go into American Eagle and Hollister… I tell myself that even if I was skinny enough to fit into their clothes, I would never conform myself that way. Never, ever. But I’m lying. I would be freaking thrilled if it were possible. I would try on everything and dance around the store.

I’m overweight. I have an ample amount of upper chest. But I can see, under those folds of fat and layers of skin, that I have a good body. My body isn’t half bad covered up right now. But I don’t want just that. I want more. I want to wear little bikinis and mini skirts and tank tops. And I want it to matter when I do. So what if it is showing off.

I’ve been overweight my whole life, but not anymore. Food is the sickest addiction I can think of. At least with smoking, you don’t visibly see the after effects on your body. There is no scale to measure how high you are. I hate being fat. It literally repulses me. I feel like I’m doing people a favor when I refuse to swim all summer, just so no one has to look at me. Just so I don’t have to look at myself.

The worst part is probably withdrawal. Four days now, I have gone without cokes or milk or juice. Just water to drink. I eat normal, if a little less. The headaches I get are staggering. I can’t sleep. I’m cranky and irritable. But it helps me. It shows me just how dependant my body has become on fatty foods and sugary drinks. No more. I’m ten pounds lighter, and I plan to go another sixty. This is just the beginning, but I know it’s not the end.