Is coffee even a meal?

I have developed a 3 course meal consisting purely of coffee.
As you could imagine, my heart rate is through the roof.

I’ve come to a solid conclusion that I have an eating disorder and though I know it’s taboo to talk about it, maybe this post can help someone else.

I’ve noticed over time I’m eating less and less. And at first I didn’t think it was an eating disorder, but instead that maybe I was trying to be more convenient to the people around me, like my sister or best friend. For example I would always think that if I postponed my late lunch to dinner, than I would only have to cook once, or that I could eat at the same time as everyone else.
But if we’re being honest about it, I know my sister or best friend wouldn’t care if we didn’t eat at the same time. As long as we just hung out.

However there’s still one meal I couldn’t lie my way out of; Breakfast. I have no solid excuse for skipping out on breakfast other than I don’t like the feeling of food on my stomach in the early hours of the morning.  I just have to eat about two hours after waking up otherwise I’ll feel ill and want to throw up. And if that doesn’t say “eating disorder” I don’t know what does.

My issue with the whole pushing breakfast back for two hours is that I usually wake up at 11AM, which means I should have breakfast at around 1PM. Right?
Nope.
Instead I think “well if I eat now, I’ll still be full around dinner time, so best for me to skip breakfast and just have a coffee instead!”
What a fucked up thought.

A few of my friends have mentioned how creepy it is that they’ve never seen me eat, but instead they see me drinking a lot coffee. One of them even asked me if I drink water, because they’ve only ever seen me drink coffee. Now you would expect this would be an alarm or something for me right?
Nope.

I realised when my coat suddenly felt really loose, and I could gather about 3 inches of it when it was zipped up, and still have space left over. 3 inches is a lot. But even that was something I chose to sweep under the rug. And then weird shit started to happen, like I suddenly fit into my sisters bra’s. And I needed a belt for every pair of jeans. And my favourite yellow shirt was big for me.

So it’s time to accept that I have an eating disorder. But of course now you’re expecting me to say what I’m going to do to change this, right? Well the honest truth is; I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix it. And if I ever figure it out, I’ll be sure to let you guys know.

Cheerio, Kamla.

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