self care

‘My mom rushed in shouting, ‘Get up! Get up! I need you to keep your dad from getting out of bed.’ I sprinted to their room. ‘911? This must be serious! My mom is running, she never runs!’

“My dad was a zombie. He groaned this horrendous noise. As tears rushed down my cheeks, I ran over. There was a surprise guest waiting to pick me up. ‘They are not sure your mom is going to make it,’ he said. ‘But everyone said it wouldn’t be like my dad!,’ was all I kept repeating.”

‘Oh wow, my thighs look huge in these jeans. After you have an eating disorder, they say you’ll never be normal again.’

“The next five minutes I spent trying to change the illusion of what I had just seen, pulling up the waist of my dark jeans a little higher, smoothing out the denim hoping that may give the twins a slimmer appearance.  I pulled on the hem of my sweater a bit, pulling it down a little further than the widest part of my thighs, hoping once again to give a thinner illusion.”

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