fiona was here
wishing she had a clever tagline

When I was in high school I was a fat girl. Not frighteningly large, just too well-padded to warrant male attention. Every day I struggled to eat as little as I could in the assumption that this would help. It never did. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't eat so little that it resulted in actual weight loss. Then at the age of twenty, I developed a painful chronic intestinal disease and puked up nearly half my body weight.

It was sort of nice at first. Suddenly, I was thinner than I'd ever dreamed and I didn't even have to use any kind of will power to maintain this new weight. Any superfluous pounds were quickly burned off by the constant low level fever. When I would tell people about the weight loss they were all pretty much in agreement: at least I didn't have to struggle with my weight anymore. A crappy silver plate lining for my diseased cloud, if you will.

It's not very nice anymore though. I spend all day, every day consuming as much food as I can and, inexplicably, continue to lose weight. I ate so much yesterday that it physically hurt yet my weight has gone down another pound. I worry sometimes that I will weigh less and less until I am so light that someone will blow me away in an exhalation of frustration, inadvertenly sending me floating into the sky. Which is ridiculous of course, because my heart would give out far before then, either from frustration or lack of nutrients.

If there are any anorexics out there who aren't very good at it and would like to trade bodies, feel free to email me.
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