Multiple times a day I repeated this mantra: Hunger will set you free. Hunger, that was my trick. There was no gum-chewing or fizzy water or fiber. That was the whole thing of my anorexia: Just don’t eat. I was empty. Being empty meant I was always ready, always prepared. Empty for exercise, empty in case of an emergency. I was always ready for surgery, ready to go under, ready for general. Empty enough to go out at night and have room for a Frosty, even though that was not a thing I would ever eat.
