It started out the same as any other day; she awoke weary, despite the twelve hours of sleep she just had. Shuffling to the bathroom, her eyes half closed, she cast herself a sideways glance in the mirror, there will be time later for her inspection. Passing the scale, she goes directly to the toilet. She must be empty before she looks at today’s numbers. Every day the same, a ritual she cannot escape, not even sure she wants to. She empties her bladder quickly, as just the act of sitting on the toilet is painful. It is the moment of truth now, as she steps gingerly on the scale. It is a slow and purposeful act. If one just jumps casually onto the scale the numbers could be off and that would never do. The numbers, that were all that mattered in life anymore. The numbers were everywhere, on the scale, in the food, how much you did or did not eat, what size you wore, it was just a fact in her life. The numbers mattered, and they were what mattered most. They must be correct at all cost.She thinks back to when this all started.
She had always been on the thin side, never really having to do much to stay that way. She was blessed, some said, with a fast metabolism. That was the way things were…..when she was younger. In high school, it was still not a worry for her. She was on the Gymnastics Team at school. She ate anything she wanted and had never a care of putting on an ounce. That was until 11th grade, when she thought she was too good for everything. Dropping out of gymnastics and severing ties with friends. She started to see how long she could go on just a plain hamburger from the school cafeteria.
(unfinished)
