The elephant that never leaves the room.

I bought groceries three times a day, an ectoplasmic effluvium three times a day. I did not sleep or work. Food detritus bloomed in lavender plastic bags around the room, cautioning against visitors. The day and night were textured with throwing up in bags or toilet or shower — water running, viscous puke swirling and clotting the drain — and then lying migrainous on the cold white tile. I learned the tedious pain of filling up and emptying out. With bulimia, your behavior doesn’t necessarily manifest your appearance the way anorexia does. A sufferer is often very sick and technically normal weight or overweight. Upon learning of my eating disorder, a psychology professor trilled, “What was your lowest weight?” assuming that I was in recovery, gaining, clearly not that sick in the present. Out of humiliation, competition, shame, I of course manufactured a shocking small number.

Upon homecoming, learning to… More…