She walked out of the building clutching the mealplan... studying the mealplan... estimating to herself the terribly insane number of calories this was going to be. But I'm not supposed to count calories, she thought. But it was such an involuntary action to her... Like a heartbeat, a breath, a blink.

Was it even possible for her not to count calories? When was the last time she didn't count calories?

"If you exercise, you must eat more," the therapist had told her. "Don't exercise because you feel like you have to. Never again exercise because you feel like you have to. You're only to exercise if you want to. If you really want to run a short while, you can. But only if you want to." So now she couldn't even exercise to compensate for the terribly insane caloric intake.

Why wouldn't she tell me how many calories this is? Why won't she tell a desperate, pleading girl how many calories this is? As if I can't figure it out. But the more she went over the exchange portions and the serving sizes, she realized... There really was no way to count this up. It was going to be different each day; completely out of her control.



The End

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