That’s the plan, the grand aim. The winning prize.
Junk without the weight gain. Without the worry and guilt.
No longer calorie counting, no longer scared of everything you eat. “Too much. Too fat. Feel it making your thighs bigger? Your stomach expanding to that of a small whale? FAT ASS”
A trip to the toilet. All out and flushed away.
Head back to the others, all sorted, smile for the camera. Everything is fine. End game the winner.
Only you don’t. Not at all.
Listening to your friend, boss, lover talk. All you can think about is lunch.
“Cake left? Someone eat it before me? Cheese, need that on a sandwich. With ham. And pickle. Those biscuits at the house still? How many calories today? WAFFLES love those. With syrup?..” Now you’ve missed a question. Game face back on.
Can’t stop eating, make a joke. So hungry today, no idea why!
Flush 2, 3 times, still some left, little bits of marshmallow. Forget these never go down.
In the shower, catching puke in your hands. Dribble it down the drain. Poke the bigger bits down with your toe. Shampoo hair while heaving into the plug hole.
Smile at roommate, crack a joke about their jumper.
Cold, shivering, aching, forget why I’ve opened this book.
3 plates of pasta. Work was manic right?
Bow to the porcelain God.
Splash on the floor, walls, feet. Wipe with toilet roll, vision fuzzy.
“Sure it’s all out? Want to check? Once more, no one will hear the toilet flush again. Or will they? Done it now haven’t you? Obvious. Idiot.”
Crawl into bed. Pyjamas smell. Not sure you can remember when they last didn’t.
Shiver, cramp, sleep. Until tomorrow comes. Lather, rinse, repeat.
One player game. And the computer will never let you win.
One life down, 2, 3.