The Exorcist

"How's your mom?"

This question was actually pointed at someone other than Papi, but my love chose to answer anyway, "In the grave as usual."

Silence fell and everyone looked at mi esposo.  Then my love laughed and broke the tension.

I'm not the only one Papi terrorizes.  This is mi esposo; silliness at even the worst of topics.

Humour: healer of all wounds.

My love also listens.  Well, in this case 'reads', and is more than tender about my issues sometimes.

I woke to the 'ugh, do i have to stare at this' calender of transgendered F-Ms having been placed behind the happy calendar of animals.

While I'm writing and thinking of a way to help you understand, or in some cases, relate to my hell, I will look up to the wall in contemplation.

I now get to stare at a baby zebra; legs not quite sure how to hold herself up yet, gangly black and white stripes of glory experiencing the beauty of life.

ahhhhh ... so much better than an ugly mug.

I woke Papi with kisses for that one.

I wanted to tell you, my imaginary friend, a little bit more about how the night of anorexia proceeded, as it was quite the shift from the earlier abhorrence.

During the ride to the restaurant, I knew that I would not eat my full meal, as a way to appease the eating disorder, and fool it that I was heeding it's warnings.

I didn't need this table of strangers to know of my insanity, "Please don't say anything if I don't eat my full meal, ok honey?"

Papi nodded, "But you're going to eat SOMETHING, right?"

"Yes."

The days of starving myself are no longer welcome in my world.

I'll at least eat enough to keep my blood sugar even, as it's really not classy to be passing out all over the place, a crumpled gob for people to stare at, "You really did this to yourself."

I ate my half meal, all the while looking down at my stomach to see if it was going to bulge from those bites of nourishment.

It didn't.

It behaved.

I can look at myself in reality this way and see that the mirror was wrong.  My stomach is not hanging out the way that I see it in that reflection.

However, I was quite scared to go to the next adventure, Brandi's Lounge, because I thought for sure the demons would come out to play when I saw erotic dancers.

Here I would see perfectly round 'stock' breasts (each one looking like the same surgeon as the last), utterly thin legs and hips laughing at my smashed self-esteem, confirming what I'd seen in that change room a few hours earlier.

But as I watched these women, what I realized was, I was ok.  I had a moment of 'two steps back'.

These women are not me.

Ever since the brain injury, my thinking has been slightly shifted, most of the time for the better.

you know that saying, 'give your head a shake'?

I no longer need to feel perfect.  I am not an immaculate being.  I am just a woman who has made it through the most challenging experiences in life that most could never imagine, and some who don't survive them.

I really am ok.

I'm healthy.

Demon be gone ...

for now ...

Fuck you and all your visions of detestation.  If you don't behave, I will follow through with my threat and cover those mirrors.

You've been warned.