extorsiian - Tumblr blog

[extorsiian]

"but being skinny won't solve your problems" being fat IS my problem what are you talking about

[extorsiian]

me when my mom m4kes me 34t and she's watching me

[extorsiian]

If you go back to eating normal, you’ll have a normal body again

[extorsiian]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . My Motivation:

Thigh gap

Straight arms

Looking/being treated like I’m frail

Getting picked up easier

Pretty privilege

The looks/staring

The dizziness

Looking “healthy”

Tight stomach

Size 0/00

No thank you I’m ok

Rejecting guys

Looking better in clothes

Compliments

[extorsiian]

When you’re skinny, your body will always be in fashion. It’s why kpop idols go on extreme diets, it’s why tumblr was so popular in 2014, it’s why low rise jeans were ever a trend, its why Victoria’s Secret angels exist, it’s why d3@thsp0 is a thing, it’s why even when the kardashians made being thick the “beauty standard” that runway models never got bbls. Because skinny will always come back into fashion and will always be seen as beautiful, serene, divine, and feminine. And fat will always be seen as dirty, sloppy, ugly, and disgusting.

🍽️🍽️

[extorsiian]

my fave thinspi atm🎀🦴

[extorsiian]

Looking at these girls makes me feel like a fake 4n4

i wish i could be that small

[extorsiian]

♡ soft aesthetic thinspø♡

[extorsiian]

Me when the scale tells me I'm 3 ozs smaller

[extorsiian]

Fragments of a Fading Reflection ● A Poem

In the cold, unfeeling glow of your screen, I disintegrate,

Lost in a parade of faces, where beauty’s cruelly innate.

Their figures, ethereal wisps, like whispers of the dawn,

While I, a heavy shadow, struggle and feel withdrawn.

Their hair, a cascade of spun gold, flowing like molten light,

While mine, a tangled abyss, swallowed by the endless night.

Their skin, a flawless canvas, untouched by time or pain,

While mine is a patchwork of scars, etched by life’s harsh strain.

They display their inked art, stories written in vibrant hues,

While my own skin hides the remnants of battles I didn’t choose.

Their tattoos speak of freedom, each line a tale of grace,

While I cover my own wounds, shrouded in disgrace.

You follow their lives with fervor, each one more perfect than the last,

While I linger in the periphery, a ghost from a distant past.

Your followers rise like a flood, their beauty a constant beam,

And I, caught in the riptide, drown in a fading dream.

Each swipe on your screen is a dagger to my hollow soul,

As I measure my worth against these images so whole.

I count every calorie, each bite is a penance paid,

Trying to sculpt my existence, to fit into the mold displayed.

Anorexia’s grip tightens, a merciless, invisible chain,

Each calorie a crime, each hunger pang a piercing pain.

My reflection shows a gaunt shell, frail and withered, hollow-eyed,

A mere echo of my former self, a life stripped and denied.

I am confined by form-fitting clothes, a prison of my own making,

Their sizes mock my struggle, my self-worth slowly breaking.

I squeeze into garments, hoping to erase the stark divide,

But with each squeeze, I feel more like a fragment, more denied.

“Maybe if I shrink enough,” I whisper in the night’s cold embrace,

“You’ll finally notice me, my figure will find its place.”

Yet even as I lose weight, my spirit becomes more thin,

The mirror’s harsh judgment shows the turmoil deep within.

Thirty pounds lighter, but I am a mere shadow of my former self,

A fragile wisp in the reflection, a life left on the shelf.

“Look at me,” I plead silently, tightening my grip on this gaunt frame,

Hoping that somehow, my suffering might end this cruel game.

The fear of you leaving, a specter haunting every breath,

A constant torment, a lingering, undying death.

I strive to fit into the ideal, to blend with the flawless dream,

But each size, each comparison, makes me feel more obscene.

“Why am I not enough?” I cry in the dead of night,

As I stare at my reflection, a figure devoid of light.

My waistline grows slimmer, my heart grows colder still,

In the pursuit of your approval, I lose my will.

Each day I battle this endless sorrow, this unyielding, crushing despair yearning for your touch, for a love that seems so rare.

But in the mirror’s unfeeling gaze, I see only my demise,

An endless cycle of anguish, as my heart slowly dies.

So I am left in this void, a figure unseen and broken,

Longing for a touch of love, for words that remain unspoken.

In the cruel theater of my own making, I am forever confined,

An echo of what I once was, lost in the labyrinth of my mind.

[extorsiian]

Nothing feels as good as water on an empty stomach

[extorsiian]

im so tired of seeing kate moss thinspo and “don’t eat that… you’ll regret it” and “you are a fatty poo poo pig” “oh a bag of chips? that’s going on your hips!” SHUT TF UP!!!! it’s not even good meanspo and tbh it has never worked

it’s so repetitive and every creator that does it almost feel like a note farm to me but maybe im just crazy

you can do better….. like make a spongebob diet or something…..

[extorsiian]

no one worries for the fat girl with an ed. don't let it be you.

[extorsiian]

she’s my literal thin$pø 😔😩

photos from ig: ssupr

[extorsiian]

Tw: meanspø

wtf do you mean “I feel the binge coming” you are not an animal now leave the kitchen!

[extorsiian]

eat for the size you want, not the size you are.

[extorsiian]

Perfect legs

The way YOUR legs should look like

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