“You wanted an anorexia diagnosis.” I would puke, if there was anything left inside me. Why is she doing this to me? “Tell me what it means, Stevie. What does it mean about you, the bulimia diagnosis?” The words come instantly, rushing past one another on my tongue. “That I’m fat. That I’m lazy. No self-control. Disgusting. Weak. The lowest of the low.”

“You wanted an anorexia diagnosis.” I would puke, if there was anything left inside me. Why is she doing this to me? “Tell me what it means, Stevie. What does it mean about you, the bulimia diagnosis?” The words come instantly, rushing past one another on my tongue. “That I’m fat. That I’m lazy. No self-control. Disgusting. Weak. The lowest of the low.”

— Meg Haston