It doesn't matter what I know is true...
and what I know is untrue...
I am Embarrassingly Morbidly Uncontainably Obese.
And I crave....
filling, soothing, and validating.
My heart to know what my stomach and brain already know.
That its not about the food.
But that somehow the appetite, the reactions, anxieties. longings and fears that come up within its context hold untapped secrets.
Secretly held sadnesses, unmet undeserved needs.
needy neediness. Grotesquely excessive needs.
Shouldn't carry such needs.
Unattractive. Undesirable, embarrassing.
like a bloodsucking parasitic sponge. With teeth and a relentless appetite for more.
A forked tongue- hungry but dangerous, and quick to frighten away just what it needs to feed its endless cravings. Its ferociousness and bottomlessness sucking dry the very marrow of anything within its reach.
Ah, thinness. The skeletal, lean, sleek absence of need.
More. by less, more or less.
Its what I want. More less.
That would satisfy that fierce craving.