Anorexia by Katie Metcalf

By Katie Metcalf

Memior of fight with anorexia

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51 There were times when the line was fractionally out, and I ripped up a letter that had taken me an entire afternoon. When it was placed in the envelope, I licked my finger and wiped my saliva over the seal. Stamps contained five calories. There was no way that I would risk taking in the calories from the enormous seal on an envelope. There was a chance it contained well over twenty calories. In our letters, we’d tell each other how well we had done at hiding food, and accidentally on purpose spilt drinks, compare our weights and give each other tips on how to dodge and burn calories.

Hearing Lauren being carried back inside the unit, watching through the gap in my open door as she struggled to get free, listening, as she demanded to know why they’d 59 stopped her jumping, I realised that I was one of the lucky ones. I still wanted to live. I had the enthusiasm to continue with life. The following day, Lauren was back to normal, apart from looking slightly more drawn that usual. She was at the community meeting and when I sent a smile her way, she sent one back. Although I knew it was only a mask.

There was a kitchen, which you were allowed to enter and use under supervision; a small gym which, to my dismay, I was not allowed to use; a lounge with a TV where people could sit to relax or have debates and arguments (there were often arguments to be had), it was also where the Community Meetings were held; a pool room; and a dining room, which I never ate in once. There was also a large garden, surrounded by a high wooden fence, which reminded me of a prison yard, as there was nothing there except grass and an old, miserable-looking tree standing in the centre.

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