I had another doctor appointment today, so Idecided to weigh myself. I was 110 pounds. I again shuddered at the thought, but I knew it had to stay up in order for me to stay here. Graham also had a doctors appointment, but his was today after work.
Our neighbors came over that day to say hello. One was a single mother with five kids. All under the age of 7. When she came, I said hi to her and the kids and when she left, I couldn't help but laugh. It was mean, I know, but she was the exact replica of what you would see on TV. Another was some teenage guy. He was like 18, probably had no clue what he was doing.
"I am James. Very nice to meet you." he said, looking me over. He winked at me and left. I rolled my eyes. I went back inside and made lunch. Graham was teaching me how to cook, but I could still only make mac and cheese.
He came home from work just as I had finished making my mac and cheese. He ate most of it, he told me he was starving. I rolled my eyes at him and laughed. We both went to the doctor together. He was first, and I went in before he came back out. The doctor told me I was doing good, 111 pounds, and I was pretty healthy. I went and waited outside for Graham. He came out about ten minutes later.
"I am perfectly healthy!" he said, happily. "The doc examined my cuts and he said if I ever attempted again, they would put me back." I looked at his wrists. His cuts were much worse than mine. Deeper and longer. I looked at my own. My infected cut. It was still swollen, believe it or not, and it was a nice shade of purple. I was now beginning to realize they were ugly. Cutting was bad.
When we got home I wrapped Ace bandages around my wrists. I didn't want them to be visible to public. They were signs of my past. I didn't want people to know my past.