*Though it is not needed you will understand this post slightly better if you read the one before it.
Just when I think I have, I remember that I can not escape Anorexia.
It would seem today when I walked into fifth period late as usual, that Tom was waiting there for me to give me the cookies. I didn’t have to say much because while I was allowed to be late, he wasn’t. So after a tight hug, he flew out into the hallway. For the first time in a month my body became mostly controlled by the person who I used to be rather than the disease that has latched on to me. I walked in strong, confident strides over to the table where he placed them and took a bite of one. You can do this. I told myself but when the sugar hit my tounge it was immediatly followed by Uh oh, this was a mistake. The cookies were golden, soft, and sprinkled with little white crystals. I found my fingers reaching into the ziploc bag grabbing one after another until I had eaten seven and was feeling rather sick to my stomach. The strange part about this lack of control was that I felt in control doing it rather than not doing it. This is why when my teacher pulled out bags of chips, pretzels, funions, and a bottle of orange soda I decided I could have those too. This is why when I got into the lunch room I had a bread bun and following, a bagel. This is why I went to my friends house and had a can of mountain dew along with a turkey sandwhich. Because for a portion of the day, finally, I didn’t feel an immediate sense of guilt.
I basked in the satisfaction of kicking my legs up on to the desk, tilting my head towards the episode of CSI playing on the TV, and gulping down the orange fizz brimming over the top of my cup. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear turning back to smile at the boy sitting behind me to agree that yes, having a food party the last day of school is awesome. I finished three small plates of snacks, and three small cups of soda then dumped the heap of garbage into the trash can without hiding how much I had eaten. Yes, see, I am a normal girl enjoying a food party like any other normal person. Looking back at this thought I can see that even I knew then that I was pretending, fooling myself, already planning out the next four days of water, coffee, and one snack of under fourty calories to last me those four days. I was already trying to fight the thoughts of how now that it was summer, I should really start to not eat all together.
In lunch I turned to my best friend, pushed the potatoe bun between my teeth, and said “I won’t be able to eat for awhile, but I think maybe I want to start eating again. I think I might be ready to get help.” Both of us held this hope in our hands throughout the rest of the period watching me savior my food. I meant it for the most part then, I really did.
Now I’m home and everything is spiraling back to where it was. My fingers are already pressing down on the mouse buttons in a fit of clicks, my eyes darting from thinspiration site to thinspiration site. I am already reaching down snapping the waist band on my hello kitty pajama pants against my stomach, pressing my palms against my hip bones which have begun jutting out more. In my mind I am already on my knees with my hands clasped together begging at Ana’s mercy that she will help me stay strong: wanting, needing her at my side. Bones, bones, bones. Listen to me and you will have them. She hisses. And so, I will listen to her.
Nothing is never as easy as it seems.
