Very few people know that I’ve ever actually had a bout with ED – let alone that I’ve been ping-ponging back&forth between Ana&Mia for over 6 years. Some close friends know that - in the darker hours of my life - I lose my appetite and shrink down, but – being the head strong girl I am – none have every mentioned or accused… they simply wait for me to come out of it.
Last weekend, though – in the midst of drunken confession mode – I slipped to my boyfriend that all the barfing I’d done that night wasn’t a big deal to me. After puking my way from the bar bathroom to the parkinglot to his garage to his bathroom, he was worried that I was miserable – any normal person would be. But I assured him that I’d thrown up plenty in my life and it didn’t faze me anymore. I vaguely remember his semi-horrified expression through my blurry vision. The next morning, though, he didn’t mention a thing. Of course. He’s too wonderful to question me and I’m too strong to be questioned.
Maybe it’s a sign, though, that – in reality – everyone knows… They just keep their mouths shut while I pretend there are no issues.
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