Food Is Just Numbers. Evil Numbers.

510 today. 560 yesterday. 560 the day before that.

So many numbers to remember. One grape tomato, 2. 100 g of sweet potato, 99. One cup of watermelon, 46. It’s a blessing and a curse how good I am at math. The numbers are running through my head all day every day. Too many numbers.

Over 700 is scary. Over 800 is terrifying. One hour of cardio minimum. Stairs are mandatory no matter how tired you are.

Once the numbers get lost, it’s all downhill from there. They get completely out of control and you are left feeling sick and hating every inch of yourself. You vow to lower the numbers every day after that.

No one can know your secret numbers. You feel embarrassed even shoving those numbers in your mouth. You judge, you measure, you weigh, you compare. You are fighting with yourself while competing with everyone else. It’s a routine that’s seemingly impossible to shake.

But you know that you need some of those numbers. You can’t risk fainting, getting sent to the hospital, or, god forbid, counseling. They would try to make you lose your numbers and you must keep everything under control. They are your secret numbers and no one can ever know. You try your hardest to seem “normal” around others, but to be honest you spend most of your time alone with your numbers.

You long to be close to someone, but you can never give up your secrets. Opening up will make you vulnerable and you might lose your numbers then. You need your numbers; they take your focus off of the sadness and anger you cover up so well.

There are too many numbers. I wish I never knew any of the numbers. I’m very good at math and I hate it.