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Pictures of My Eighth Grade Social

We're looking at pictures of my eighth grade social. God, that dress was beautiful, but I could never touch it again. "Look how pretty you were!" My little sister exclaims. "Yes, but she'd look much better in it now," my father says.

What he meant to say was,'now that she's starved herself for three years and lost fifty pounds since being 180 in 8th grade.' But he doesn't say it, because he doesn't know.

I'm home alone again, and I'm starving. I can nearly feel my stomach contracting on itself, and I hate it. But if I touch the cabinets, I'll explode in both a frenzy to eat and the fullness I'll get from eating half of what I once ate.

I'm trying to climb up the stairs, but my head is spinning so badly and it feels so cold that it's hard to even catch my breath.

My boyfriend comes to stay with me, but only because I'm shaking so uncontrollably that I think I might be having a seizure. We try to get comfortable, and even though he doesn't say anything, I know that he's appalled by my ribs sticking into his stomach as I curl under his arm, seeking his natural body heat. I don't say anything either, but I know that I'm appalled because I still have thirty more pounds to go.

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