Anorexia

"This size is too big, what is it??" I asked peeking out at my mom "It's an .... extra small." She double checked the tag as I looked into the mirror. I didn't feel extra small, I searched out the concentration to focus on the shirt and nothing else. The edge of my belly underneath became increasingly noticeable. "I hate shopping, I look awful," This was all I could say, already on the brink of tears, I rushed back into the changing stall and reapplied my original bland, loose outfit. I could hear my mom on the outside already beginning her rebuttal, "No baby, you look cute. It's on sale I can get it and if you don't like it I can simply re-purpose it." I could tell how hard she was trying but it is an obvious fact I don't like shopping, not to mention my wardrobe hasn't changed since I could dress myself. The only reason she brought me was for some body positivity bull my counselor was spewing. I am positive I hate my body, is usually my response, which watching them react to is actually quite interesting for me. Their low eyes become enlarged, expressions bewildered. Nobody ever knows how to respond unless they've already thought about it, or it has already been said, though I try not to repeat myself.