The sweet combination of both hatred and love. My favorite food is this sweet creamy bar that screams to me for my affection, but as soon as I let it grace my lips it stabs my heart with a dagger of ice. Knowing that every bite I take is another dreaded calorie that will add on to my seemingly endless career of weight gain. I look in the mirror and see a failure, someone too weak to resist the gentle words of a small treat. It's just baby fat, my mother would say, soon baby fat turned more and more into just fat. Going from 230 to 280 to 335 pounds of weight that I inflicted upon myself. I would like to be able to say that it is not my fault and that it is just the way I am, but each night I see my brothers, both of which fit and healthy and all I feel is disgust. With each tragic mouthful I feel myself adding on to the pile of dynamite building in my body until one day I will explode. I try to stop eating or to eat less, but I cannot go 5 hours with out my stomach screaming for what it knows will only make me feel worse. My mother says that I just need to eat  more apples instead of chips, apples make me sick, the feeling of their thick skins beg me not to eat them and so like every other aspect of my life, I obey. I sink back into my comfort zone where I eat nothing, but junk food and chocolate. Eating is the only time I feel safe. My doctor continues to remind me of the affects my eating has on my body, but like all medicine a doctor perscribes, I swallow it and move on. It is a hard pill to swallow knowing that my life may end short because of my eating, but I let the reality reach my stomach where it burns, surrounded by chocolate. It reminds me of the burning I feel when someone calls me fat. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will always find me. All I can do is try to escape from the world, the only way I know how, with chocolate.

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