I hid the entire contents of my dinner apart from a mouthful of peas in my wardrobe, then I notice my mom has taken my grandma home. I have the house to myself and in a weak moment I go downstairs and think, oh, a couple of chocolate buttons couldn't hurt. And then another couple, and another. Before I know it I've eaten two handfuls and feel absolutely disgusting.
It's no surprise I'm so huge.
I hate how I look.
The fat's practically rolling off my thighs.
I'm just going to go in the shower so no one can hear me cry.
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