Hell Of Myself. Poem by Lauren Ashleigh

I cried in the changing rooms today. It had double mirrors so you could see every angle if you wanted to. I didn’t. It made it harder to avoid.
I am disgusting.
I thought about dying my hair dark because the roots are too golden to match the rest of my highlights, failure of home hairdressing. Even though I had make-up on I looked really washed out, at least with darker hair I’d have a reason to. Mum said she looked washed out too but she wasn’t wearing any make-up.
She asked me if I‘d been crying, I looked really down. I said no I hadn’t, I was fine. We continued shopping in silence. Occasionally she’d ask my opinion on things and I’d yes or no or ask about the calories.
She said Margaret was half a pound off her goal weight.24 pounds in under a year.
I told her Gemma had lost 8 and a half in month.
All my clothes felt tighter even though I was in my comfys.
The doctor said to keep a food diary and come back in a month. It had been too weeks since I’d last thrown up but I did it that night and the one after before I went out with my brother. We went to the cinema where my tooth broke on popcorn. The consequences are starting to catch up with me and there’s nothing to show that it’s all been worth it.
I’m weak. My sister made the appointment and made me go. She told the doctor and I lied to him. No I didn’t think about hurting myself. No, my bowel movements are fine. No I don’t sleep too much. She said she’d get me a little journal for the month ahead but that was two days ago. Out of sight, out of mind.
Like most things.
Not like the mirror, It’s still in mind.
There are more important things in life. I know that. But I am weak. I failed my tests and now I have a redo year. Exams are soon but I’m crying on my bed. My mums calling from the next room, despite not being able to see clearly I call back the date of my first test.
The first boy I was naked in front of has moved into my brother’s house for two weeks. His wife’s brother. We met at their wedding and we both drank too much. He said he loved my tummy and that still confuses me. We didn’t have sex because I didn’t love him and my sister was in the next room. He hasn’t added me on facebook or anything but I understand. He was drunk and horny and that’s fine. I don’t want to see him again, not right now anyway, not until I lose some weight. So I’ll never see him ever. That’s fine too. I have exams. He said he wanted me to come around to see him but he was drunk and that’s fine.
I am fine.
Except for my hair, I’ll have to make an appointment.
There are bigger things in life.
Like choosing a university by the 6th of May. Across the water or at home. To go for big changes or keep them minor? I am weak and big changes might make me smaller. In mind not body. A hopeful flicker wonders if big changes could change me, mind and body. But I am weak.
I want to write. They say write what you know. I know that I am hurt and I am huge. Who wants to read what I know?
Niamh has lost lots of weight. She looks great and seems happier. I think they think I’m happy too but I am in the hell of myself. If the doctor were here now I’d wonder what he’d say. I’d say help me and I lied.