I wish I had a picture of myself on my very first day of high school. I was fourteen. Quiet. Awkward. Terrified. My outfit was a sweater and black pants because I didn’t know what else to wear. Looking back, I realize everyone was just as nervous as I was. We were all new, and none of us knew each other. 

I kept to myself that first day. I went to class and went home. And somehow the first year ended up being really good. I made friends, settled in, and for a while, I loved going to school. 

~Time Skip~

Until one random afternoon, everything changed. One morning before my mom got to work, she told me there wasn’t much food in the house and that I’d have to figure something out after school. To any normal person, that probably wasn’t exciting. To me? It meant freedom, and I got to spend my money. Before school, I stopped by the deli and bought two small bags of Cheetos and an iced Arizona drink. 

I was so happy. By third period, I had finished one bag. I carried my snacks so proudly. When one of my friends mentioned they were really hungry. I offered them the other bag of Cheetos. 

After school, I went home and made myself a croissant with avocado. When my older sibling came out to see that I was just eating that for dinner. I simply explained what our mom said, and without hesitation, she told me we could order Chinese food. 

I have no clue what we ordered. I just remember skipping and running to get it. I was too excited. After dinner, I finished the rest of my Arizona, and I had no idea that would be one of the last normal meals I would have for months. 

About the same time, I started feeling sick. Not a cold. Not a flu. My stomach just hurts. Two days later, in homeroom, our PGC leader brought cookies for everyone. Normally, I would have been excited. Instead, the smell made me nauseous, and I had to move to another seat. My friends kept encouraging me to have one, even my PGC leader asked, but I just couldn’t. 

The smell made me nauseous the room spun. When I came up with a plan. I’d wait until attendance was taken, go to the office and call my mom from their office phone, and tell her I had thrown up. I hadn’t. Not yet. But I knew something wasn’t right. 

Within the hour, a sibling picked me up from school and dropped me off at home before heading to class themselves. When I got home, my mom told me to eat the apple slices she had packed for me. 

I forced myself. Within minutes, everything came back up. Then, the pretending became real. This was full-blown sickness. 

That afternoon is still burned into my memory. I curled up in my mom’s bed, crying because it hurt so bad. Eventually, I wasn’t even throwing up food anymore. My stomach was empty; I had nothing left. 

My older sibling came home from work with Gatorade and coconut water, hoping I could keep something down. But I couldn’t. Everything just kept coming back up.

The next day, for the first time in my 15 years of school, my mom actually let me stay home because of how sick I was.

Later, what we suspect is that my dad had probably come home with a stomach virus. He then passed it to my other sibling. This might have been passed to me. The difference was that they threw up once and got better. I didn’t. 

After i recovered something in my body had changed. We ordered Popeyes that week, and in return, my stomach rejected it. I threw it up. 

My mom then cooked food the next week. I threw it up. 

Weeks were passing. Still, my stomach was cramping, I was throwing up, and I was nauseated. To the point that even drinking water was making me sick. WATER!

Imagine being scared of drinking water. I was becoming afraid of eating. I was just rejecting everything. Imagine your body rejecting all the foods you used to eat. I lived like this for half the year, and everything I ate became a gamble. 

Is it going to stay down? Or am I going to regret my choices? I never knew. 

I became terrified of food. Not because i wanted to loose weight but because I was just constantly becoming sick. 

By the time summer arrived, I had lost a lot of weight. 

That summer, I also took a class, which in turn made me more active. Which made me lose even more. 

When sophomore year arrived, I had lost a lot of weight. My clothes stop fitting. My stomach was getting better, but slowly. I was still living in fear. 

My mom bought me a new wardrobe because everything was starting to get too big for me. For the first time in my life, I felt pretty. 

It’s strange to admit that, but I was. I was starting to feel pretty. I wasn’t happier because I was thinner; I was happier because I finally felt comfortable wearing clothes I had always been insecure about wearing. By junior year i barely reconhed myself. 

Before graduating, I had to visit my primary doctor for vaccines and paperwork. He took a look at my chart and then looked back at me. He was impressed that I had lost 45 pounds. He was so excited. 

I had gone from 175 pounds to 130. He asked what I did. My mom simply answered how i got sick and couldnt eat. 

I wasn’t exactly looking for a weight-loss plan that either of us had planned or recommended, but hearing myself congratulate myself, I felt so proud. Because in the past I was the obese sister, and now I was receiving compliments. 

I was so confident. I liked getting dressed. I smiled more in pictures.

Even my family joked that they never would have imagined me to be skinny after spending most of my life as chubby. 

Senior pictures, graduation pictures came, for once, I felt great and excited to take the pictures 

I truly believed college would be the beginning of a brand-new chapter. A fresh start and the new version of me. 

Of course, you already know how the story goes. And here is where I’ll leave part two.