”Dear Diary, I’m 16, I weigh 16.5 stone and I live in Lincolnshire. My interests include music, vegging out and finding a fit boy - oh, scratch that, any boy, to quench my ever-growing horn. Unfortunately, I already have a lover that makes me look pregnant: Food. But there’s a difference between snacking and binging and I - don’t - binge - anymore. And if anyone ever finds this diary and reads it and comes to the conclusion that I’m crazy… they’d be spot on.!”
“I am a body dysmorphic without the dysmorphic. I am a bullemic without the sick. I am fat.”
“Dear Mum, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry that I fucked everything up. It’s not your fault. I’m not hungry, for the first time in months I don’t care about food, I don’t care about filling the gap by eating, or by hurting myself a little. The gaps too wide now. I tried so hard to be someone that everyone could like. But no matter how hard I tried, I’ll always be the same ridiculous pointless blob. I’ll always hurt people. And I’ll always let people down. I’m so sorry Mum. I just hate myself so much more than I could ever love anything.”
“I am not going to leave you and I am not going to give up on you. And your dad did whatever your dad did not because of anything you did. And not because of anything you are. So you can’t spend the rest of your life being afraid of people rejecting you. You have to start by not rejecting yourself. You don’t deserve it. So from now on, people can either accept you for who you are or they can fuck off, because you’re an amazing person, Rae.”
