It takes me longer than I like to stop being defensive and masking that with anger. Most of my life, even as a pampered only child, I’ve had to push to be allowed in the room. There are boxes that people want to put me in and I resent it. The fact that Kenneth keeps me, still, in the anorexia nervosa box infuriates me. Because he’s right. Because there had been space in my schedule to eat. Because I had been just busy enough to justify skipping a meal. Because I’d been hospitalized twice for it over the course of our marriage. Because every time I came back from the Moon I felt heavy—which I
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