Again, this is a way for me to vent so I don't go back to basically not eating, so, with that in mind, we are going to backtrack into the start of Rose and Alice's problems.

And in case you were wondering, pro eating disorder forums like the one Alice and Rose met on DO exist. I am still on the member list on three of them actually, because I am too scared of being 'tiggered' back into an ED to go on just to delet my account, they are that pro ED. well...

ON WE GO

If you step on a scale and you have gained weight, don't eat for the rest of the day. If you get on a scale and you have lost weight, don't eat for the rest of the day.

-On the tip list of most pro eating disorder sites.

Rosalie didn't mind when she woke up with a hunger headache, nausea, or light headed. Or better yet, all of the above. She considered it proof that she was doing a good job, a sign that she was 'passing' her diet. If she was walking and got so dizzy the world turned black, she celebrated in her mind, and if her stomach constricted, she rejoiced. Nothing felt as good to her as when she lost another pound, but there was always more to lose, one more pound, just like the pound she lost before. As she grew into teenage years, she got a 'progress report' every month, in the form of her period. She only got two or three a year, since every three or four months she ate normally for a week to 'kickstart' her metabolism, tricking it into think it didn't have to oberate at the super slow pace it was to prevent weight loss.

After about a year after her trouble began, when she was around twelve, she got her first major bonus, a somach that caved in and showed off her rib cage. Bones were bueatiful and nautral, fat was ugly and mutant like. She came up with her own set of rules, and kept a notebook full of 'thinspo' (pictures of rail skinny girls, usually in swimsuits that show off their rib cages and spins), quotes, lists of what she could and could not eat, and things of that nature. She tried to stay under two hundred calories on weekdays, three hundred on saturdays, and four hundred on sundays. Once a month she fasted for three days, and once a week she ate a 'full' sized meal for a mini metabolism booster. She didn't find it hard at all, the pluses were better than the drawbacks. She saw anorexia as an art, something mastered by few, a secret code to being beautiful. She wasn't ashamed of saying the word 'anorexic' to describ herself in her mind, she was proud of it actually. She was one of the few who had the will power to willingly starve, and could hold back on something fried in fat and full of calories. Calories did not make her feel better, being skinny did.

Rosalie thanked God for giving her the will power that he did whenever she saw a fat person walking down the street or in a store or something. The way they had layers of fat in their frond and massive roles hanging out of their shirts, she couldn't imagine looking that way and being happy. She didn't understand how any one could look that way and be happy. With her caved tummy, defined cheekbones, pin line legs and arms, even the purple shadows she had under her eyes, because starving made it hard to sleep and being tired reduced cravings, she felt beautiful... and even better, there was always room for improvment.

Rosalie remembered the first full day she went without eating. She was elven years old, not long after she first tried this new lifestyle. She went to bed that night feeling empty, and strong at the same time. All day people had offered her something to eat, and she always said she had all ready eaten or that she just was hungery. She had been strong, saying no to food and yes to thin. She felt perfect and wonderful, even if her mind was always on food.

Then came the tricks. She always wore a band around her waist, and snapped it whenever she thought about eating. After a few months, she had trained herself not to think of it, since the band hurt. Finally, she allowed herself to take it off. The train of thought stayed. If she ate too much in her mind (any more than five hundred calories a day) she dug her always sharp nails into her arms, a punishment that worked well. When she went for a doctor's checkup before she could try out for volleyball, she put little weights in her pockets and taped a few to her stomach, any where they would stay. When it came time to weigh her, she was a normal weight. At that same visit, she wore a light jacket and jeans, even though it was all most ninety degrees out. This helped make it seem like she had a normal body temperature (it had slowly started to drop to the point where her skin was icy). She passed the physical with flying colors. In the years that fallowed, she learned not to play school sports because of these visits, after years of getting only enough to survive, her heart had started to beat weird, her breathes were gaspy, and any one that felt any part of her body got only a handful of sharp bones. She joined the YMCA instead, no doctor visits needed, and she got to work out much more and know just how many calories she burned.

The came the forums and chat rooms. She typed in pro-eating disorder into a google serch, and got plenty of websites with awesome tips, tricks, thinspo, and the oards and chat rooms. They really did help her stay motivated, and helped her find ways to cover up and learned how do things she would have never thought of. She was amazed.

At the age of sixteen, she had all most totally forgotten what it felt like to be full, which was how she liked it. She was nothing more than a walking bag of bones, and she loved herself. She had been able to turn off the part of her brain that sent waves like hunger out, which was music to her ears.

Rosalie's parents were divorced and her mother worked all day, making her dieting very easy. She could even hide the weight loss if her mother had a rare day off and wanted to spend time with her. She didn't see any thing the matter with her, even though inside, she was screaming.