Diary of a Fat Girl

23.

Dear diary

There is only one word that can be used to describe the hospital food: revolting.

After a week in the hospital, my hatred for oatmeal and jelly was unbelievable. If I look at another bowl of sloppy porridge, I'm going to puke. I actually did, twice.

It reminds me of the time when I actually used to throw up on purpose and I was actually considering going back to my old habits.

Every day, a nurse brings me my food and leaves as soon as she sets the plate on my lap, so when she left the room, I went to the bathroom and flushed down as much food as I could. I didn't want to die of dehydration, so I stuck to drinking water.

My parents visited everyday but they were never there when I ate, so I guess I dodged a bullet there.

But one day, the doctor came for an unanticipated visit. His facial expression was one of concern.

"Good afternoon, Anna." He greeted, "We have a little problem. You're body isn't healing as fast as we had hoped and I just wanted to know if you've been eating and resting properly."

I knew that he was onto me but after 2 weeks of hiding it, I was not ready to go down just yet. "Yes. I've been eating and resting just as you told me to."

He nodded but didn't say anything further. He did a few more body examinations and then he was off.

I kept on throwing my food away for another 2 days and one day, when I had let my guard down, it happened.

I was in the bathroom, throwing my custard down the drain, when the door swung open and an old nurse looked at me, sympathy flashing in her eyes. I was too shocked to move. I had been caught red- handed.

"Why are you throwing your food away?" she asked quietly but I knew that she knew why I did it.

"I wasn't hungry." I muttered, holding the bowl at my side.

She reached out her hand and grabbed my skinny wrist gently. She traced her fingers over the scars the lined my wrists, the scars that freaked my parents out when they saw them.

My mom began blaming herself again but when I promised to stop, she calmed down a little, and I kept that promise.

The nurse didn't say anything as she led me to the bed and pulled the blanket over my legs. After a few minutes, she came back with a chicken salad wrap and an orange juice from the hospital's store.

"Eat up. And trust me, it's not worth it to starve yourself to death."

With that she left. And I had to admit that she was right.

-Anna