Dear Woman Sitting at the Table Next to Me,

I know you're bulimic. 

I know you're currently hoarding food so that, in a minute, you can politely excuse yourself and go throw it up in the bathroom. 

I know that, while you're in the bathroom, you're going to shove your fingers down your throat, hoping to purge the two bowls of soup, three slices of bread, order of pasta, and chocolate milkshake that you just consumed.

I know that, when you do purge it all, you will feel a release of sorts. Flooded with emotion, you will at first feel lighter. A few moments later, you will feel heavier--weighed down by guilt.

I know that once you flush the toilet and wash your hands, you will then look in the mirror and feel shame. 

I know that, when you return to the table next to me, your eyes will be watery and your cheeks somewhat puffy.

I know that your friend (i.e. the girl sitting across the table from you), while enjoying the fact that she has someone to eat with, is mentally berating herself. She wonders why you are so much skinnier even though you are eating more than her.

She doesn't know, but I do. I could notice it from across the room.

I know you're bulimic. 

I know, because I used to be you. I used to be bulimic, but I sought help...and I hope you seek it too. 

I know you can beat this. I know because, if I can do it, you can too.


Original post found HERE.

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