Chapter 2 I'm sorry I haven't mentioned my father. Let me tell you a fact for every occasion I have seen him: his name is Jamie; he is from Ireland; I haven't seen him in over 10 years. I think that concludes his section. Now where were we. My early years I'm afraid probably were not that interesting. Imagine an overweight and yet gangly child that dreamed to fit in and be one of the pretty girls. I can almost smell the self pity. Well that was me. It didn't matter though as my nan loved me. Or so I was told as I was fed another fish finger sandwich.. I don't remember when I decided that I'd had enough of being fat. When I decided that gaining a stone for every year of my #life was getting a little out of hand. I was 12 and weighed 12 and a half stone. It was time to change. As long as I can remember my nan had been on a diet. It was praised to have not eaten since breakfast and applauded to have not eaten at all. In hindsight no one can really be surprised of what happened next. After the summer of year 8 I returned to school a new woman, or so I thought. 2 stone lighter I had blossomed, had my first kiss and walked back into my stuck up girls grammar with admiring glances wherever I went. "You've got so skinny Jane" "you look amazing Jane" "what's your secret?" My secret was obvious. I hadn't eaten a meal in 2 months. I exercised every day and was losing hair as fast as I was losing weight. I was slowly being overwhelmed by anorexia. I wasn't disgustingly skinny. I wasn't even underweight. But what many people fail to comprehend is that anorexia is not a physical illness alone but psychological torment that can lead a plump preteen with an excess of puppy fat to hate her body and be in constant fear of whatever passed her lips. I don't remember much of it to be quite honest. What to me seemed like a few months apparently continued for a year and a half. I feel quite bad really. Bad for my friends, my family, my teachers, who had to watch me fall deeper and deeper under the control of the disease. But to me I was completely in control. For 13 years I had had no control over my broken family but for once I was in control of something. I didn't have control over anyone calling me ugly but I would not allow anyone to have the chance to call me fat. As I write this now, scotch egg in one hand, bag of maltesers in the other, it seems like I'm writing about a different person. But I was soon to realise that there was something better than total control; it took one person to show me that the greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return.