...painfully Curious...about How It Feels

That’s The Nice Thing About Dreams, The Way You Wake Up Before You Fall.

There Are Women In My Closet, Hanging On The Hangers. A Different Woman For Each Suit, Each Dress, Each Pair Of Shoes. I Hoard Clothes. My Makeup Spills From The Bathroom Drawers, And There Are Different Women For Different Lipsticks.

I Don't Think People Realize, When They're Just Getting Started On An Eating Disorder Or Even When They're In The Grip Of One, That It Is Not Something That You Just "get Over." For The Vast Majority Of Eating-disordered People, It Is Something That Will Haunt You For The Rest Of Your Life. You May Change Your Behavior, Change Your Beliefs About Yourself And Your Body, Give Up That Particular Way Of Coping In The World. You May Learn, As I Have, That You Would Rather Be A Human Than A Human's Thin Shell. You May Get Well. But You Never Forget.

When I Was Growing Up, I Always Felt There Was An Expectation That I Would Do One Of Two Things: Be Great At Something, Or Go Crazy And Become A Total Failure. There Is No Middle Ground Where I Come From, And I Am Only Now Beginning To Get A Sense That There Is A Middle Ground At All.

I Threw Up Again That Night, Half-afraid That My Eyeballs Would Explode. But It Was, By Far, More Important That I Get Rid Of Dinner. Of Course, By Then, Throwing Up Was The Only Way I Knew How To Deal With Fear. That Paradox Would Begin To Run My Life: To Know That What You Are Doing Is Hurting You, Maybe Killing You, And To Be Afraid Of That Fact--but To Cling To The Idea That This Will Save You, It Will, In The End, Make Things Okay.