I deny this eating disorder you gave me, dear parents.
But it's not really an eating disorder so much as disordered eating. And no so much disordered eating as it is disordered thinking.
I recall sitting on the exam table third grade--
being told I had big bones;
trying to block out the knowledge that tiptoeing around the word fat didn't change it's intent.
Telling a fourth grader you wanted blood tests
and a personal trainer
hiding behind the words diabetes and heart disease because those words don't scare you nearly as much as the word fat does.