So, last night as I was getting ready for bed, I became curious about how much I weighed. I hadn't stepped on a scale since a doctor's appointment just before school started, and I weighed about 120 lbs then.

When I stepped on the scale last night, I was 115.6 lbs, and, idk, that just made me happy. 

It's not like I have an eating disorder or anything. I just don't eat a lot. Like, at dinner, I'll take the smallest amount of food that I can without making my parents concerned, even though I'd much rather just skip dinner altogether.

For years, I've always hated my body. My stomach in particular. 

I remember this one event I went to when I was 10 or so with my mom, and it was this talk for girls my age and their parents. At one point they had each of the girls place a hand on one part of their body that they didn't like and wished they could change, and then they played a song while we talked with our parent. I vividly remember placing a hand on my stomach and one over my mouth because I hated that my teeth were crooked. (they still are, but I've grown to embrace it) I told my mom about the hand over my mouth, but I kept the hand on my stomach to myself. 

I was 10, and I felt fat. 

That feeling's never gone away. 

I mean, there are days where I don't hate my stomach as much, but it's always there.

I remember, a few years ago, I tried doing 30 situps every evening in the hopes that I'd be able to make my stomach even the tiniest bit smaller. That stopped after a few weeks because I couldn't find enough time. I've tried setting up exercise schedules for myself before, but I've never been able to stick to them.

But, as of last night, I'm starting again. 

I just... I hate my stomach so much. And I only hate it more after I eat, so I'm always aware of how much I eat. God, Thanksgiving was hell for me. I had two plates of food, and I hated myself so much after I ate all of that. 

And I've been eating smaller amounts of food for so long that I literally cannot eat too much more without having a stomach ache.

My dad makes my lunches for school because I don't ever have enough time, and, on Monday, he sent me two pieces of toast and tuna salad. I ate all the tuna and one piece of toast before I completely lost my appetite. Even the thought of trying to eat the last piece of toast made me want to be sick. 

Lol, I'm so messed up