Two mentors have forced me, thankfully, to reconsider what the fuck I’m doing (or, really, not doing enough of).
Your entrée into this realm of the elite can be jarring, which is why we’ve convened to help you through it.
My body is not functioning at its full capacity because I stopped my recovery halfway—I didn’t keep going, and in fact even in my strongest moments I was still consumed by thoughts of food and weight.
I’m not sure what convened the other day to tear the disordered gauze from my eyes, but, on an impromptu shopping trip, I managed to see myself in a more realistic light. And, in that light, I saw a sexless, hollow creature with nothing to grab at or touch, someone who looked like she was once again becoming a shell of herself.
Just because peppermint bark and eggnog are what dreams are made of (and also EVERYWHERE these days), doesn’t mean society-at-large wants you to try them.