I pulled the anorexic act a year before. It was so easy once I got the hang of it. I remembered weighing myself as an 8th grader, going from 145 pounds, easily slimming down to 135 just by not eating lunch for a couple of weeks. Who wouldn't be ecstatic?
Then summer came and fucked it all up. I'm back to 140.
My best friend Brandon came up to me and my locker on the end of Friday, the first Friday of our freshman year. I had a mirror in my locker, and I could write notes on it with a marker and erase it. I remembered that I had wrote
Calorie Counting on the top, and under it, for breakfast, I wrote 260 because that was my calorie intake for the morning. Then I wrote -120 because that was approximately how many calories I lost after gym, and then I skipped lunch.
He asked me "Whats this?"
"I'm marking my calories." I told him.
He hesitated. "Did you eat lunch today?"
I smiled. I always smile when I lie, or know people think I'm gonna lie. Its a habit. "Yeah." I told him.
"Are you lying?" He asked all serious. I remembered not thinking anything of it. I was happy that I would probably only take in 200 calories that day. Why wasn't he happy for me?
I felt another smile creep onto my face, and I decided not to lie. "Yeah. I'm lying."
That was the end of that I think. I liked it. I like not being able to take in calories. It makes me happy, and I feel in control.
And I think there's nothing you can do about it...
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