‘“Gaunt. Is that the word?”She asks. ‘I think so.’
You look around and find yourself a place within a perfectly formed circle. After those awkward moments catching one another’s eyes you wonder ‘Am I in the right place?’ As you attempt to stand up and make a dash for it back to the front desk to ask the receptionist ‘Sorry, what room is today’s support group held?’ the therapist bursts in the room trying to catch everyone off gaurd maybe even scare them for her own sick little reasons. ‘Hmm…No wedding ring.’ She hasn’t had a intimate relationship with a man in years. Probably career focused. She starts droning on trying to make everyone feel at ease. It’s working, not so much what she’s saying, more the mono tone of her voice.
The woman directly opposite gags. This is not food related. She just can’t cope with the nerves. ‘Get in line.’
We pair up with the person on our right. My partner looks perfect. Six foot blonde hair, blue eyed devil. Hitler would be proud. ‘What do you want in life?’ the therapist asks. ‘I’d like to stop sticking my finger down my throat after every meal’ I though that was why we were all here? It was subtle but my partner had been inhaling for the last ten seconds, sucking in the ice cold air. ‘IhatemyselfandallIwanttobeisnormal.’ Again, get in line. Before she returns to her seat she looks towards the floor and smiles for a moment without showing her teeth. She might be human after all. We might even have an affinity towards one another and be long life friends who help each other through this terrible, terrible ordeal. You and I, trying to cope with our little psychological problem, we need this. ‘Pathetic.’
Like school kids waiting for the three o’clock bell we block out what the therapist is saying and stare at the clock ticking away. The sun is shining. I don’t plan on a mouth full of stomach acid tonight.
