My eating disorder is Easter 2011, around 8:30 P.M.
My mom clears the table for the dessert spread. I’m wearing a blue Abercrombie tank top tucked into a floral skirt. My stomach is bloated, stretching the band of the skirt so I can’t see my toes. I look down. Then I look up. Greeted by dessert. I slide into a seat next to my cousins and dive in. Three of this, two of those, a couple glasses of milk…what’s that? My sister offers to make hot chocolate for everyone. She makes me two because “I have a big appetite guys”. As if that wasn’t clear.