She stood in front of the full length mirror, examining her body. She weighed only ninety pounds, yet she still felt fat. She noticed the way her skin hung loosely when she moved. She only interpreted this as more fat she had to lose, ignoring the signs of wasting away. The thinning hair, the fully exposed ribcage, the way her clothes hung like trash bags on her small frame.
So instead of seeking the help that she so desperately needed, she only continued to binge and purge, binge and purge, hoping those last few flaws would melt away as the food came hurtling from her throat.
After decades of this abuse, her body finally began to shut down.
It began with her kidneys. She couldn’t hold her waste and had to wear incontinence panties.
Her liver went next. Those that revolved in and out of her life affectionately called her Mellow Yellow.
Then her landlord found her one day, collapsed in front of her mirror. The autopsy would later reveal a heart attack. She was only 32.