Bulimia is a secret disease. It only shows up when no one is there to see. It comes creeping in, weaseling its way through the cracks and before you know it you’re stuck in the trap once again. Binging and purging, binging and purging and the cycle continues. It is a disease of wealth and privilege. An over abundance of material things and a lack of something deeper. It arises where things are not allowed to be spoken of. The silent disapproval that fills a room and engulfs everyone in it. The fear of being too much or not enough. It is an objection, a silent rebellion, a defiance and a release of emotion. It festers where we are not allowed to speak. It lies hidden beneath the surface until there’s no company left and like a bothersome relative she comes sliding in, makes her self comfy and starts her flirting. At first it is mild and easily ignored, but next thing you know you’re at the fridge door. You’ve left the lights off because you’ll only be a minute, “just a quick snack – some fruit won’t hurt”. Through the darkness the orange light glows from the back of the fridge. Looking through your various options it starts with a grape and a couple of figs, a slice of watermelon and maybe a date. “Oh look there’s left overs, why not grab a spoonful?” You realize what’s happening and shut the door fast, how did you expect this to turn out? It’s the same every time and it’s happening again. “Oh well its happened now so why not dig in?” As you try to move away something catches your eye, the jar of almonds left on the side. “A few won’t hurt, after all its good protein”… but they taste so good and you don’t want it to end so you have a few more and then a few more “you must be hungry or you wouldn’t be eating, after all you only had a salad for dinner” so next thing you know the pantry is open, there sits the peanut butter, the chocolate, a jar of honey… the cookies and crackers, oh god why did you do it? “Its too late now” you can hear her laughing, like a cackling witch she throws her head back and as if in a trance you pull out the snacks, and quickly eating, praying no one will hear, catching the crumbs and cleaning up spills, the ecstatic rush that comes from every bite keeps you going on in search for more. Finally when you think you might just die, you silently discard the evidence, clean up the mess, and rearrange the jars to disguise your indulgence. That’s when you realize that the voice has changed “you’ve done it again you greedy thing” “you want to loose weigh but look what you’ve eaten” “what will they say when they see there’s food missing?” “Surely you have more will-power than this?” “What wrong with you?” “What’s wrong with you?” “Why can’t you be more like the others? With self control and self respect” And that’s when you feel your stomach start to churn, crackling witch relative has now gone silent, the trance is broken and now your left with very few options. You sneak upstairs, “I’ll just go to bed” “tomorrow I’ll eat nothing but salad all day” “I’ll go to the gym early and then go for a run” “I’ll walk to work to burn off the calories” “It won’t happen again, this time I’m certain” But its happened before and it’ll happen again, stuck in the loop you’re unable to break. The guilt rides high and engulfs you completely and the purge will come in one way or another leaving you empty, lonely and back to hungry. And so the cycle continues, like a spell or a trap, waiting to strike when there’s no one about.