there are truths in stories.

My mum and dad were both skinny when they were kids. All of my siblings are skinny. Why must I always be the odd one out? I stick out like a sore thumb when we go in for family photos. My gargantuan stomach takes up most of the area of the room, squishing the rest of my poor family to the perimeter; pinned to the walls by my rolls of fat. Heh, say cheese everyone.
Is it possible to even look the way I do? I hide everything. I feel like every time I walk into a room, everyone is staring at the spider veins in my cellulite padded arms. I feel sorry for my skeleton; not being able to show its beauty. It’s being suffocated by the fat parasite. I absolutely hate my body. I absolutely despise my body. I envy everyone able to wear skirts and dresses in public. Able to flaunt their beautiful bone-thin legs.
Ever wonder why you don’t see me in skirts? shorts?tank tops? bikinis? Wonder why I’m so pale?
I don’t go out. I feel like if I do, the stares of all of the eyes will burn my skin and leave me with a permanent mark of the most appalling thing anyone has ever seen. They will recoil at the repulsing sight that is me.
Drinking isnt enough for me anymore. The drunken illusion that I'm okay isn't good enough for me anymore. I want a physical assurance.
Urgh!
I hate my body. I hate fat. I hate food. I wish everything that disabled me from being beautiful stopped existing.I'm sick of how I look. I wish I was nothing but bones. It would make my life easier. It would make me happier.

I'm ready. Make me bones.

No.
You are beautiful, exactly how you are.
Don't change, don't conform yourself.
Don't be a hypocrite. Don't be the picture of fake beauty. The real beauty is in your heart, not on the scales, or the mirror. Everyone calls you beautiful, and everyone sees it; hence why you have such a vast fan/crush base.
You don't need to be bones. Being bones isn't healthy, nor beautiful. It's sick. It's sick, and it would break my heart to see you turning into that.
Don't. Please. For me?