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I'm disgusting.

My, ahem, "significant other" (I despise the word "boyfriend") and I were talking online, complimenting each other, being all cute and lovey-dovey and cheesey. Then he mentioned something about how he doesn't like anorexic-skinny--points in my favor for being thin but not too thin. I said that that was probably the only good thing about bulimia, to most people's standards (not mine, but I didn't say so); bulimics rarely become dangerously thin. Here's how it went from there:1

Him: But what about the stomach acid coming up your throat, the vomiting out everything? That seems kind of... Disgusting.
Me: It really is. Incredibly disgusting. On the bright side, I'm not fat, right?
Him: True, but I'd rather have fat and normal than skinny from vomit.
Me: *sigh* I know. Although I was skinny--skinnier--before. I'm getting better, though; starting shrinkitude in a week.
Him: Good.
Me: So anyway... *insert subtle subject change here*2

I don't know.3

All he was saying was that eating disorders aren't good and that I should get better. But I, being the supersensitive person I am, took it as this: I'm disgusting. He'd rather someone else over me. A stupid mistake that spiraled into a stupid fucked-up disease made me not good enough for him, made me All Wrong.4

I know, intellectually, that that isn't how he feels. Ten minutes before, he'd put me in both the "I'd Hit That" and "Good for Long-Term" categories, in terms of looks and personality. Why didn't those stick in my head the way the "disgusting" comment did? Now they feel like empty words, even though I know how sincere he is. I hate feeling like this.5

And the ironic thing?
It just makes me want to purge more.

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