I'm not going to pretend I'm sicker than I am. I no longer find the idea of this whole disease-thing romantic in any way. I surely will not gaze out of windows, contemplating my horrific disorder, and oh woe is me how sick and disturbed of a young, innocent little girl I am. Oh, hell. I wouldn't kid myself. I'm not going to curl up in some hole of teenage-angst where being sicker makes me cooler. Because that's not how it works at all. But inexplicably some of us seem to live and thrive in that dream. My point? None.

Today is simple: make soup, wait as long as I can to start eating it. Eat as much of it as I want because the whole pot will be under 350 calories. Eat nothing else for the day. Make birthday cake for my dad's birthday. Don't eat it. Oh please, just don't eat it.

I'm down .2lbs. Better than nothing. I don't feel like I deserve any more right now.