When I was fourteen, my mom made me go to residential treatment at the local hospital for bulimia. She wouldn't have bothered if the school counselor hadn't made a huge deal out of it. I mean, it wasn't that important to her. I'm just her kid. Not her boyfriend or something. Or Annabel. My mom adores Annabel.
Anyway, treatment was kind of cool. I told everyone I went to see my dad so they wouldn't know. But when I was there, something clicked. I realized how stupid binging and purging was. I was already beautiful, at least on the outside.