Sometimes for a second, when the glance in the mirror is unprecedented, I think I see the truth.
Just for a second, before the pervasion of screaming negativity erupts, I see an emaciated girl instead of an obese one.
Just for a second, I see my collarbones. I see every bone of my ribcage sticking out of my back. I see my jeans balancing on my hipbones.
For a second, I see arms that look like chicken bones and thighs that don't touch. I see calves that should never belong to someone who has danced for a decade. I see a withering, dying girl, and I love it.
But then it changes and all I see is fat.
I live for the incidents where the truth breaks through the eating disorder.