Anorexia is not what you think. Warning: Triggering pictures included.
I go to the bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror, and lament the fact that I'm an hour closer to death and I've spent it with a grade-A shithead.
I'm a feminist who has to get something off my chest that’s, well . . . about my chest.
While I preferred to think of myself as the proverbially fun/quirky party girl, I came to realize my drinking had finally gone too far.
By this point, I was pretty sure one dude would kill the other. If Ben died, there would be no fourth date.
When I bought gym clothes at age 12, I had no idea that I would be raped in their presence three and a half years later.
Millie lowered her voice and asked me if I had plans for the rest of the day. Did I want to make some mushroom tea and watch Frozen in Union Square?