I used to love chocolate cookies.

I used to love them until the number they represented in my head felt higher then the Mount Everest.

I used to love them until my grandmother pulled me aside to tell me she was concerned about the weight I gained.

She talked about that with my grandpa, she told me.

I used to love them until my new doctor opened our first appointment with 'A bit to heavy now, aren't we?'

I used to love them until my grandma told me my face has gotten to round and full. My Grandpa agreed.

I used to love them until he started to call me a pig, ugly, worthless, a waste of space and time and he told be he would turn himself into an only child.

I used to love them until getting under 500 Calories was the goal of the day and starving felt like a victory.

16 hours without any food? I can do 18 hours.. 20...22...

The empty feeling in my stomach sometimes was the only thing that reminded me I was still alive.

I really used to love chocolate cookies until society made having curves the worse crime ever committed.

But you don't have an eating disorder unless you are skinny... Right?