• Highest Ranking #1 in Bulimia •
•Highest Ranking #1 in Free Mental Illness •
He's a quarterback struggling with a secret eating disorder that's destroying his life.
She's a food-fanatic who loves every curve in her beautiful body.
When their scho...
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My alarm beeps besides me, and my eyes flicker open.
I'm home.
I roll out of my bed, stretching my arms behind me with a big yawn.
Instinctively I walk into my bathroom, turning to the far right corner, my heart stops when I realize my scale is gone.
It takes a short moment for my breathing to even out again as I realize- this is for the best. Mom probably threw it out. Scales can trigger a relapse. I want to get better.
I brush my teeth slowly, staring at my naked chest. It's not horrible. I still have defined abs, my ribs no longer protrude out of my skin- but my figures smaller than what I'm used too, my arms lankier. I hate it.
I spit out my toothpaste and run a hand through my hair. I don't know why I'm up so early. I don't have to start school until Wednesday, but Becca's going today. And Becca hasn't talked to me since I was admitted.
Every time I catch her staring in my direction, she averts her gaze quickly, turning her head. Avoiding me.
I don't understand why.
I make my way downstairs and my moms face lights up with a smile. "Hey, Babe." She says setting down her coffee. "You're up early."
"Mhm." I say sitting down on the counter, "When can I have my phone back?"
She hesitates, and with a sigh glances at my dad.
My dad raises an eyebrow with a shrug "Think you can handle it, kid." He says setting down his newspaper.
"Why couldn't I?"
"Dr.Reese said a lot of his patients would track their cal-." She coughs, careful to avoid using- the 'c' word as if it would set me off. "He says it can become a problem if used irresponsibly."
"I'm not going to use it 'irresponsibly." It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
My mom starts prepping my breakfast, as Becca comes downstairs. She's acting weird and keeps brushing her brown hair in front of her face.
"Hey, Beck," I say, as my mom plops down my Ensure shake onto our table.
"You have to drink one every three hours kay babe?" She bites her lip nervously. "All of it."
"I know mom," I say taking careful sips of it, while my mom plops down my breakfast. I can't help but notice that while everyone else is munching on cereal, my mom has very clearly orchestrated my breakfast.
A calorie count immediately pops into my head, but I swallow and attempt to ignore it.
