So it has come to this (F)

Do they want me to develop bulimia? I couldn't believe their audacity. It had been 5 years, 5 whole years, and I thought I had proved myself. I'd been sick for heaven's sake. Sick!

What's more is that they'd all been sick too, and I'd still managed to eat more than the rest of them, and I had only thrown up once. Not twice like Gracie, not 4 times like Norris, not 5 times like Mom, but once. One solitary spew.

But our fevers had now settled, our bugs had passed, and I had lost 3 pounds. They could forget the virus, but they could not forget the 3 pounds. It was the elephant in the room. A little 3 pound elephant, and they wanted me to eat that elephant--right here and now. I was healthy and in control now, but forcing me to eat junk food would only make me relaps.

Grace pushed the cheesecake towards me again. "Just one more piece, Cassidy, one more."

"No thanks," I smiled, "I've had enough for today. It was very good though, you should make it for my birthday."

A normal person would have gotten away with that statement. A normal person could even have said "I'm on a diet," but I was not on a diet, and when Grace spoke with me she didn't see a normal person. She saw anorexia's ghost dancing around me.

"You counted the calories for that, didn't you?" mom stated in half-joke. I rolled my eyes--I wouldn't lie. I counted calories the instant I looked at food. It was not something I thought about, and it wasn't something I calculated. I simply always had a running total in my head, and no amount of re-wiring could change that.

1,257. That was how many calories I'd had today, and 420 of it was cheesecake and a bit of hot chocolate. 1/3 of my diet had been nutrition-less, and if I was going to eat something else, it wasn't going to be cheesecake. If they were so concerned about the 3 lb. elephant, they needed to learn to pick their battles.

"Offer me the leftover chicken or salad." I tested my telepathic abilities on my mother. Telepathy failed, and my mother plopped a slice of cheesecake on my plate.

"Just eat it hun," She smiled at me, then at Gracie, then at the elephant.

5 years... 5 years and 5 pounds above my lowest allowed weight. It took discipline, it took self control, but I had kept myself from even touching my lowest allowed weight. I'd been proud that I hadn't walked the line, that extra 5 pound cushion was all me--not my doctor, not my mother, it was me, and I was being safe.

But there was the issue of the 3 lb. elephant, and the remaining 2 pound safety net wasn't big enough for my family. It took a week for me to loose those 3 lbs., but they'd be damned if if it took a week for me to gain it back. They wanted it now.

I new exactly how many calories it would take this week to gain it back too. I was at 1,257 calories today, and I still had to eat dinner in a few hours. I did not need another piece of cheesecake. I shook my head, "Mom, not today. I'll eat it tomorrow."

She took a spoonful and sighed, "just a bite then?"

"No."

"Just a bite." She was serious now, it was a stand-off. One more bite wouldn't kill me , but I was getting angry. Why couldn't they trust me? I was silent in defiance. "One more bite." She came towards me with the spoon and for a second I was afraid, afraid she might start forcing food down my throat.

"You make me eat it and I'll just throw it up." It was too late, I'd said it.

Mother stared at me, sizing my statement. She knew how much I hated trowing up, but she also knew too well my past commitment to weight loss.

"Threats Cassidy?" she asked, no doubt reminding herself of Dr. Palman's phone number in the back of her head, " Has it really come to this?