Alice clawing her way back up the rabbit hole and out of Wonderland. I could stop craving the gasps and the stares and the shock. I could stop dressing like I’m a sip of water away from all my fat flopping out. That’s a permanent and irreversible consequence of my actions. I’ll always have cellulite and stretch marks. I’m not in a position to ever become a Hemsworth, and I know it - maybe I was once, but not now that I’ve done all this to myself. The thing that makes it so believable at the time is that I’m realistic about it. I think about how nice it would be for everything to just go back to normal, before I fell headfirst into this surreal addiction to transformation and embarrassment. I think to myself, ‘come on, what are you doing with all this weight gain stuff? It ends today.’ What will I look like in 5 years? How far gone will I be? There honestly are days, even now, when I wake up early, drink some water, go for a walk and feel good in a very normal way.
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