I would have taken a day off even if I was working because another family was coming to visit me for marriage today. I was fully prepared to endure yet another rejection. It was another day for me, meeting a socially inept family who would criticize me and publicly criticize my weaknesses. I didn't want to meet anyone and wouldn't if I could avoid it.

I was preparing for a potential groom for the second time this week. I had a regimen for such days, which included getting up early, applying a face pack, dressing in clothing of my Chachi's choosing, and applying layers and layers of cosmetics.

My dress was over the top for the occasion, as it was every time. The clothing was stunning, yet it was overkill for the experience. It was a floor-length pink georgette and net Anarkali suit with golden embroidery on the upper portion and sparkles on the lower part of the skirt. I know, it's a lot!

In addition, my Chachi curled my hair and forced me to wear many ornaments. She added layers of cosmetics to my face, and I began to experience itching. I used to enjoy wearing makeup, but now I wouldn't say I like it. My Chachi disguised my ugliness with layers and gave me clothing that made me appear slimmer. I won't say I'm beautiful, but I'm not as horrible as I seem when wearing cosmetics. I'm acceptable.

The family was already there in the main room. My Chacha told me the boy worked as a secretary for the city's most prosperous businessman. This boy has one sister who is in college. They were a family of four. He lives with his parents and younger sister. He earns a quiet living. My Chacha briefed me on everything, but he still needed to tell me the guy's name. After some time, I was summoned to the hall. I stepped outdoors and moved forward, and stood there with my hands folded in front of them, but I could see his parents judging me. I lowered my gaze.

"It appears that the girl is so well-educated that she does not want to touch our feet," the groom's mother observes of me. I swiftly reached out and touched his parents' feet. Chachi then forced me to sit with his parents, but the groom was absent.

"I'm spending some time with my parents. I'll be in the office as soon as possible, boss," he said over the phone. His back was visible to us, so I kept my gaze down.

"I'm sorry the call took longer than I expected," the person apologized to everyone before sitting in front of me.

"Meera, this is Raj, my son, and Raj, this is Dr. Meera," his father added, and I looked up, stunned. Raj is the same individual I saw with his boss yesterday morning, who dismissed me on the spot. I only smirked weakly.

Nobody spoke for a few seconds before my Chacha began talking to him. I was sitting silently once more. When I looked down at my hands, they shook independently. I instantly joined my hands in my lap and halted their movement because it was merely a nervous tremor. I tell myself that I am a doctor and could go out and get a job, purchase a house, find a man, and get married, but this is not the reality. Despite my education, I live with my traditional family, who believes marriage is the final truth in every girl's life.

But I agreed to marry because I believe that tiny girl inside me still dreams of a happily ever after and a prince charming. Furthermore, I don't have the personality to find a boy alone. Therefore, an arranged marriage is preferable.

"Meera, what are your hobbies?" his mother kindly said.

"I like..." My Chachi interrupted me and told them I like cooking, sewing, and other household chores. I grumbled from within because these were not my hobbies. My relatives came from a time that I believe did not exist now. My face felt hot as I continued to glance down. Of course, like other families, the Bansal family would prefer a mute daughter-in-law to an opinionated, smart one.

"In which hospital do you work?" Mr. Bansal inquired.

"The people's hospital," my Chacha said before I replied.

"I believe we should leave Raj and Meera alone to talk. They can communicate well without our constant intervention." Mr. Bansal spoke up. No one in my family mentioned it because they usually made fun of me. My Chacha and Chachi were unprepared, yet my Chacha still let me.

"Of course," she says. "Please take Raj to the other room, Meera." My Chachi remarked in a delightful tone. My Chacha scowled at me as if telling me not to say something stupid. Under his gaze, I shuddered. He isn't fond of me but keeps his distance from me.

We took our respective seats on the veranda. I nervously hopped my leg up and down while looking at the yard. He was staring at me, and I could feel it, but I didn't dare to glance up.

"Your hands are trembling. Are you OK?" Raj said, his voice anxious.

"ye...yes... I'm perfectly fine. I'm just nervous," I replied.

"Can you show me around?" After a few minutes of thought, I nodded. My Chacha would have agreed. I'd be doomed if I answered no. Also, Raj asked so nicely, how could I say no? I began walking ahead of him, showing him around the house.

"Your house is beautiful." He complimented me, but I thought he didn't mean what he said.

"My Chachi chose everything," I added, continuing to speak. He asked me a couple of questions, and I responded. I tentatively asked him a few questions, and he responded.

"I apologise for my boss's behaviour. He can be exceedingly cruel at times," Raj remarked.

"You don't have to apologise; it wasn't your fault. Some people have fragile egos," I tell him.

"My boss is a good man, but that man has a temper, and even I don't get spared every now and then," he laughs.

"Can you tell me why you want to marry?" I felt out of sorts when he questioned me.

"The main reason is I want a family," I explained, tears streaming down my cheeks. I've always wanted to be expected by someone, but over the years, I've been handed about like a parcel from one person to the next, and no one has ever asked me how I was feeling.

" Meera, I..." I interrupted Raj before he could finish his sentence.

"We should get started... Everyone will be waiting for us," I muttered as we walked into the living room, where Raj's mother fired daggers at me. Everyone spoke for a while after tea and nibbles.

"OK, Mr. Jaiswal, I'll let you know when we decide," Mrs. Bansal replied as she walked away. Raj gave me a weak smile before leaving. I walked into my room, changed into my home clothes, and removed my makeup. Chachi invited me to dinner. Everyone was quiet during dinner.

"Papa, did the Bansal's call you?" Divya asked Chacha.

"Nope, and I doubt they'll call us," Chacha replied.

"Why? Raj and Meera seemed like a good match," Chachi smiled.

"Mrs. Bansal was not impressed. Don't you remember she mentioned she's overweight for her son? She had to consider her son's future," Chacha explained.

"Meera is a bright young lady. I don't think she'll pass up this opportunity," Chachi stated as he gave me rice and dal.

"You're a doctor, Meera, and you understand the consequences of being overweight. Why can't you do something about your face and weight?" asked my cousin Divya.

I stood up, washed my vessel, and went inside my bedroom.

Binge eating has been the source of my weight increase throughout the years. Binge eating is eating past fullness, possibly to the point of experiencing significant discomfort or agony. Binge eating can occasionally result from aimless eating, as was the case with me. I ate because I was looking for solace in food and trying to numb myself from the unpleasant emotions constantly running through my thoughts.

When I was an adolescent, I began to feel unhappy in the presence of my grandparents because I discovered that they all gossiped about me behind my back and never really liked me. I tried to improve myself for them, to be more kind, to be more helpful, and to be less judgmental. Nothing was working. My inadequacies were amplified and blown out of proportion, and everyone continuously chastised me. I couldn't live like that any longer.

What followed was a moment like no other in my life—it was as if a meteor had struck the plateau of my life and made a massive crater—a crater so large that you couldn't fill it—it was a scar, a tear on the surface so deep that I was shattered. I was lonely. I'd felt lonely before, but nothing like this had ever happened to me.

My adolescent years were dreadful; I was living a life that seemed so bleak and dull that I had to feed myself with transient delight, but the blissful taste of creamy vanilla ice cream never lasted long. I kept eating, clutching at the phony euphoria, but it always slipped away, leaving me bloated and wretched.

I was so dissatisfied with my life that I ate mindlessly, barely tasting anything, imprisoned in the mind space of a zombie. I used to cry for hours because I was so nasty and obese, attempting to shake the crumbs that litter my bedsheets.

I used to scrub my teeth repeatedly, trying to scrape the guilt away, but the taste stayed no matter how hard I brushed. I could not eat for days afterward because every time I looked at food, I remembered the binge while wishing for the brief period of bliss it provided.

At the same time, food was my best friend and my worst adversary. I used to binge when I was anxious, irritated, depressed, lonely, or angry. I could avoid my terrible emotions by going on a food binge. I would withdraw and begin numbing myself with food.

It would begin with something nutritious, a harmless snack. Soon, the first snack would be insufficient, and I would need to prepare something more substantial. One thing would inevitably lead to another, and I would gorge myself on foods I knew were bad for me, such as junk food or processed foods high in sugar, fat, and salt. I'd eat until my stomach hurt.

I understand how it feels to be unable to stop eating. I also know how awful I felt the morning after a binge. Apart from the physical anguish and pain, I am ashamed and guilty. I feel like I've let myself down yet again. I vow not to binge again, only to breach that pledge a few days later. Each time, more shame, guilt, and powerlessness were added. You believe you lack self-discipline, so you push yourself more. You become increasingly inflexible in your behaviour, as happened to me.

Unfortunately, this exacerbated the vicious spiral of self-deprivation and overindulgence. The more I pushed myself to avoid unhealthy foods, the more I craved them.

I was hurting silently. Later, I realized that only an eating disorder therapist could assist me in dealing with my binge eating. But I was unlucky, and my grandparents refused to help me. So, I took it upon myself to force myself to overcome my addiction.

It took a lot of thinking and (honestly) some courage to admit that I have this disorder. I knew that the first step towards its cure was its acknowledgment. It took me some time, but I accepted it and decided to fix it.

Then I had to confront the consequences of binge eating. The physical effects were evident. I was constantly gaining weight. It also had an impact on my body's cycles.

Of course, the mental influence is more harmful. The dependence. The feeling you get after bingeing on junk food. This mental comfort was what bothered me. Because I knew what my battle would be in trying to stop!

My pride suffered, but I had to confess that I was powerless in the face of it. And I couldn't cure it unless I accepted it. The next thing I knew, I had to figure out what was causing this. I needed to figure out what it was inside of me that made me want to eat. I began meditating and realized that it was never my fault that my mother died, nor that everyone believed I was unlucky. The realization made me realize that I am a human being who needs to love myself more.

I began exercising, which became a part of my routine, and only necessary foods. This routine helped me lose some weight, but I'm still a chubby girl and don't eat when I'm sad anymore.

I haven't binged in a long time, but I'm always afraid it will happen again. However, I now understand how to break out from these tendencies. It isn't easy to express yourself to others when they don't know what you've gone through.

Later after dinner, I sat on my bed and read anew article from a doctor's magazine before falling asleep, thinking I neededto start looking for work from tomorrow since someone's ego was so large thathe had to fire me. Dumbass, Dude.