Dear 20 Year Old Lisa

Don’t do it.  Don’t go into the convenience store and buy laxatives.  Don’t take them.  Don’t worry about feeling bloated.  Don’t think this will just be one time – it won’t.

This will change your life forever.  One action today will become your new life.  Your new norm.  It’s a life that will change everything you have going for you right now.

It seems like a solution.  It seems like you can control it.  This is a short term reward that will turn into long term awful, horrible consequences.


I saw my doctor this week.  I got weighed.  She was happy. I am moving in the right direction.

She gave me a bunch of requisitions to keep on top of my health and make sure everything is status quo.  She’s incredible like that.

Blood work

Urine analysis

ECG

Ultrasound

But this time she added something new.  A bone density test.

High risk for oesteoperosis.  That’s what she wrote on the form.  Oesteoperosis.  My 95 year old grandmother had that.  Your grandmother progrably has that.  I’m forty fucking three.

The thing about my body is that is has been very forgiving.  It has allowed me to live.  But it’s also not invincible to what I have done.  Unfortunately you can’t see what’s inside.   So I don’t know what I have done.  I don’t want to have any regrets.  I don’t want to do something to my  body that I can’t undo.  I am fortunate that it has given me chance after chance after chance to survive.  But it can only do this for so long.


Lisa, that box of laxatives is going to make you feel light.  It is going to make you feel empty.  It is going to make your pants looser.  You are going to like how you look tomorrow.  To you, it will seem like a solution.

But in 20 years you will be trying to fight an illness.

You will have been in the washroom for thousands upon thousands of hours.  Have ingested more laxatives than I ever would want to even guess and spent so much money on this awful, horrible Eating Disorder.  Nothing good will come out of you buying that one box of laxatives.  Nothing.  If anything, that one box of laxatives will symbolize the end of your life at 20 years old and the start of a new one.  It’s called hell.

Put the box down.  Go get a popsicle instead and get the fuck out of the store.

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