This is the story of a girl...

I've had an eating disorder since as far back as I can remember. I can't remember a time when food wasn't obsessed about in my household. I was called fat throughout my childhood by the kids at school and my family at home. My weight was something to be completely ashamed of. It always has been. By the time high school came, it was a source of immense pride that I was only eating once a day, if that. I was thrilled that my lower ribs were sticking out and looked forward to the day they would nearly all stick out. I denied it though. I pretended that the ribs sticking out were ugly, but I envied each and every other girl who were effortlessly thin and continued to eat my one meal a day. When I moved out and no longer had my mother's eating disorder fueling mine, I started eating again. Not much at first, but when I ended up in an abusive relationship, I began comfort eating and now I'm at the other end of the spectrum.

Last year I had a doctor send me to an "informational meeting" about gastric bypass. I was immediately against it, but I went because I was willing to hear what was going to be said. In that meeting, I was horrified to discover that as long as it is medically supervised, anorexia is apparently okay if you're overweight. I left that session fully aware that I would not be agreeing to more. Instead, it triggered a restart of my initial disorder. Lately, I have been fighting to just eat 2 meals a day. I went a full day without thinking once about eating and was shocked when I realized that I hadn't eaten at all. The worst part about it is that I'm being rewarded almost daily for my behavior. I'm down 20 lbs since last year and when I tell people that I hear that I'm fantastic and way to go and all those other celebratory things because when you're fat, it's not anorexia. It's getting your life back. It's finally showing respect for yourself and giving yourself a chance. Why can't they see that anorexia is anorexia regardless of your size. I honestly don't know how the hell this is going to get better when everyone, including doctors, thinks this is a spectacular idea. The only person complaining is Sara, and that's because she knows that it scares me. She knows I don't want to end up bony and bird-like with the same figure as my mother. I don't want a pacemaker like my mother's because I've eroded my heart from refusing to eat.