So I came home from school a few days ago and found this on one of the cabinets in my house.
See about three years ago my parents decided to go on a big push to get healthy. At the time we were all really overweight, it was a good idea. Our motto became “Eat less. Exercise more.” This was reasonable, because we often had thirds in every meal, and I couldn’t run to my mail box without getting out of breath.
Since that time between the four members of my family we’ve lost a hundred and sixty pounds. I am muscled, curvy, and a weight I love. I exercise four days a week, usually boxing early in the morning before school. Usually in the course of a day I’ll eat two pieces of toast, a sandwich and a fruit, and a small piece of meet with a couple vegetables.
My parents are not impressed. At one time, they always repeated to me “healthy at any weight”, but now it has turned not to being healthy to be healthy, but lose weight lose weight lose weight.
My eleven year old sister and I have started working with each other to sneak food into our rooms that they won’t notice we’ve taken.
The other day, I didn’t wake up at five before school to work out, and my dad yelled at me, making me promise to work out an extra day that week.
My dad picks apart my lunch in the morning. Recently, they started giving me only half a sandwich.
A few days ago, my sister went to get a cheese stick after school, and my mother told her that if she ate it, it would be her entire dinner. My sister ate it, and didn’t get dinner.
My parents told me I need to get a personal trainer so I can “improve faster”.
My family has a history of eating disorders, and everyday my family seems more and more anorexic. I’m scared for both myself and my younger sister. Both of us try to not eat, because we get approval from our parents for being “more healthy”.
I’ve stopped eating lunch, trying to loose weight so that they will be nicer to me.
I don’t think my parents realize that they’re fostering eating disorders, but the other day I tried to make myself puke, because they treat food like poison.
I was wondering if you could reblog this if you think this sounds unhealthy, because I keep trying to talk myself out of thinking that it is.
THINGS I LIKE
- when people use my name in conversation
- when people say “this reminded me of you!”
- when people remember little things i say/do
- when people genuinely thank me for things i’ve done for them
- when i think of the same thing at the same time as someone else and you give each other the look
I’m doing a persuasive speech and this would really help me out.
If you think animals should be adopted from shelters, reblog.
If you think animals should be bought from pet stores, like.
should i message them again or am i just being really clingy and annoying: a life story by me
whom is this Miles Cyprus character??? i dont know about “celebrities” because i am too busy READING A BOOK and DOING EDUCATION. i dont care what Kanyay and Jason Beebeir and Rihannon are doing because MTV SUCKS take me back to the 50s where it was real and not FAKE like this BULLSHIT. i dont care about ppl who are famous just because they AUTOTUNE there dance moves. REAL talent is ppl like John Green or Doctor Who or Loki or Super Mario or Pabbles Picasser or Aristotl
Allen Ginsberg died on April 5, 1997. Less than a week before, after the long terminally ill poet had made parting phone calls to nearly everyone in his address book, he wrote the poem, “Things I’ll Not Do (Nostalgias).”
Never go to Bulgaria, had a booklet & invitation
Same Albania, invited last year, privately by Lottery scammers or
Or enlightened poets of the antique land of Hades Gates
Nor visit Lhasa live in Hilton or Ngawang Gelek’s household & weary
Nor ever return to Kashi “oldest continuously habited city in the world”
bathe in Ganges & sit again at Manikarnika ghat with Peter,
visit Lord Jagganath again in Puri, never back to Bibhum take
notes tales of Khaki B Baba
Or hear music festivals in Madras with Philip
Or enter to have Chai with older Sunil & Young coffeeshop poets,
Tie my head on a block in the Chinatown opium den, pass by Moslem
Hotel, its rooftop Tinsmith Street Choudui Chowh Nimtallah
Burning ground nor smoke ganja on the Hooghly
Nor the alleyways of Achmed’s Fez, nevermore drink mint tea at Soco
Chico, visit Paul B. in Tangiers
Or see the Sphinx in Desert at Sunrise or sunset, morn & dusk in the
Ancient sollapsed Beirut, sad bombed Babylon & Ur of old, Syria’s
grim mysteries all Araby & Saudi Deserts, Yemen’s sprightly
Old opium tribal Afghanistan, Tibet – Templed Beluchistan
See Shangha again, nor cares of Dunhuang
Nor climb E. 12th Street’s stairway 3 flights again,
Nor go to literary Argentina, accompany Glass to Sao Paolo & live a
month in a flat Rio’s beaches and favella boys, Bahia’s great
Nor more daydream of Bali, too far Adelaide’s festival to get new scent
Not see the new slums of Jakarta, mysterious Borneo forests & painted
men and women
Nor mor Sunset Boulevard, Melrose Avenue, Oz on Ocean Way
Old cousin Danny Leegant, memories of Aunt Edith in Santa Monica
No mor sweet summers with lovers, teaching Blake at naropa,
Mind Writing Slogans, new modern American Poetics, Williams
Kerouac Reznikoff Rakosi Corso Creely Orlovsky
Any visits to B’nai Israel graves of Buda, Aunt Rose, Harry Meltzer and
Aunt Clara, Father Louis
Not myself except in an urn of ashes
March 30, 1997, A.M.
“The Beatles’ story is all of our stories. It is about how the youth culture emerged, the drug culture emerged, how politics rose to the fore as a universal debate. It’s about rebellion, it’s about the growth of the British entertainment system, the growth of the rock n’ roll entertainment system.” - Bob Spitz