I look at my body alot. I remember the two years of absolute hell I put myself through. Of the two years of working out nearly 6 hours a day, with maybe a scrap of meat in my body. Two years of throwing up if someone made me eat food, using the lame excuse, "I'm going to wash my hands." Two years of never being good enough. Of how I still needed to lose weight. I needed control. Two years of being HAPPY when I could see my bones stick out, the sick joy it gave me that, maybe, I'm beautiful. The two years of draining, draining. My skin placid, thin, cold. I was ALWAYS cold. Two years of being told over and over "You're melting away." Two years of feeling weak and hopeless. Of playing a sick game of russian roulette. Of being close to death. What's so great about weight 95 pounds? What's so great about looking so thin you could blow away? How is that beauty? How is placid skin, no period, bile, exhaustion, weakness, lack of energy, being freezing..how is that beautiful? How does sticking a tooth brush down my throat to make me throw up any step closer to beauty? How is it anything but the worse?