Today is Valentine's Day. It is the worst (along with Halloween) holiday ever invented. I don't understand how anyone can love a holiday where people give each other sugar-coated-sugar. Don't they know how bad that stuff is for them? Don't they know what it will to their bodies? Don't they care?!
I absolutely despise this holiday. I wanted to play sick, but then my mom would have forced me to go to the doctor, and that would be suicide. Our family doctor, Dr. Lox, would see how underweight I am, when I'm really a fat, disgusting blob. He would comment about how skinny my arms and legs are, when really they are thunderously huge. He would ask me if I was still getting my period regularly. He would be able to see through me when I lie and say "yes." I would be in a "clinic" faster than I could say "I'm fine, really." And I cannot have any of that. So I go to school, spending the day trying, unsuccessfully, to hide from all the people stuffing hundreds and hundreds of calories in their mouth with each bite. Even more unsuccessful was my attempt to hide from the "do-gooders" trying to give me "yummy" boxes of neatly packaged calories. Finally, I take some, fake a smile, then when it was time for study hall, I would sneak off to the bathroom and dumped all the candy into the toilet, flushing all those horrid calories down through my school's sewage system.
After making sure no one was in the bathroom, I went to the sink, blasted cold water and vigorously scrubbed my hands for ten minutes. Then, I went into the third stall, lifted up my sweatshirt and my black and white striped long-sleeved shirt. I ran my hands over my protruding ribs and dipped my hands into my bowl-like hips. I loved the feeling of my bones, but that meant I had to feel my skin as well, as that made me feel disgusting all over again.
I checked again to make sure no one was in the bathroom and pulled out an x-acto knife I'd bought at an art supply store, and carved CONTROL under my third left rib.
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