Let’s stop measuring anorexia in the circumference of your left thigh.

Let’s stop measuring anorexia in the circumferences of thighs and BMIs and how many strands of your hair fall out every day. Instead we should measure the severity of the illness on the impact it has on the family and friends of the sufferer. I think alot of us forget that anorexia is an illness of multiple victims; you don’t have to be the one with the diagnosis to suffer terribly.

I write this after a fight with my parents. I can’t hug them. I can’t say goodnight to them. I can’t be kind to them. I hurt them because I can. And worst of all I don’t seem to care. Surely this, if anything, is the way the severity of this bitch of a mental illness should be measured.


My father

My father says he was happy that I was a girl (not a boy),

I think he was afraid i would grow up to look just like him.

My father is watchful of all my lovers,

He is worried that I will be trapped as he trapped my mother.

My father is careful to keep me away from controlling friends,

I think he is scared someone will take his place.

b i n g e

sometimes i cant stop eating


that thing that lives inside of me is ravenous

(and i am afraid of hungry monsters)




when every cell in your body

becomes a stop sign telling you to ‘turn back’ ‘turn back’,

keep running,

and feel the wind on your cheeks.