It was hard not to stare at the shapes that surrounded us: a girl whose body was so emaciated that she was covered in a layer of fine hair, walking near another woman whose skin had stretched and stretched to contain some bottomless need, a self-hugging device, a house. The bulimics scared me the least so I focused my attention on them; they looked relatively healthy on the outside, as long as you didn’t look too closely at their vomit-stained teeth. Puberty was a confusing time to be around so many women whose bodies had become a sort of battleground. My own relationship to food was healthy.
...more
This. 😶😷😟
