skinny boy » joshler

twenty two || tyler

this isn't sustainable.

okay? it fucking isn't.

waking up hurts. looking in the mirror hurts. seeing josh fucking stings. 

it takes him back, all of this, back to eighth fucking grade.

little, 13-year-old tyler, a little chubby in the cheeks, just an extra couple pounds. the kind of face to make a grandmother coo. he didn't pay attention to his body, really, but a few off-hand remarks... ("the baby fat should come off any day now." "he looks a bit like a child with that face." "tyler, honey, maybe you shouldn't have that candy bar today...")

well, it's fucking obvious what happened, didn't it? now, baby him wasn't as good as josh. he struggled... he binged a few times, but the art of purging was quickly mastered. he became the elusive eater— took up running, and at that point, you'd have to catch him to feed him, and that was easier said than done.

eighth grade was also when he hit his growth spurt— shooting up to 5'7 in a matter of months. that didn't stop the weight loss though... and what had been a modest, 110-lbs-5'5-frame, became a more dangerous 100-lbs-5'7-frame.

yes, it was fucking dangerous. he was pale, weak, his hair grew too slowly, his nails would crack. at a bmi of 15.7, shit like that wasn't uncommon. he slept often (conveniently around mealtime), barely got out of bed, and couldn't quite run anymore.

it took... let's see, when was he hospitalized the first time? 90 pounds... on a 5'7 frame, a bmi of 14.1, his heart close to giving out...

that was just the first time. he's got josh beat there. bet you can't go that low, dun.

a few weeks in the hospital, twenty pounds gained. he tried to recover. 

but recovery's hard. it is, really. 

everyone always notices... pays attention if you skip meals.

so he gets creative, then. he decides he'll be healthy, and loads his plate with salads. "oh, the dressing is a million calories," he announces, laughing, and doesn't add it. "i had so much ice cream," he adds, fishing wrappers out of community trash cans to back up his lie. "i had a huge breakfast," he insists, leaving empty bowls in the sink with a bit of cereal dust sprinkled on. 

the pounds slip off, slower, but just barely... 110 pounds goes by, feels amazing. he stops around 99 pounds... he means to, that is. all he wanted was double digits.

but that's still too low. for his parents, that is. for him, he wants to try out the 80's, see what they feel like...

in case you're wondering, 86 pounds was simultaneously the best and worst he'd ever felt.

so that would be hospitalization number 2.

end of... what was it, 9th grade, by then.

now it's two years later, he's been— say— recovered, for a while now. 

and damn, it feels good to be back.