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It's become like a game, this waiting thing.

Mom is fixated on Family Dinner Time; gets seriously ticked if I delay coming to the table to read another e-mail or wait until a commercial. She sometimes asks around 3 p.m., "Did you ever have lunch, honey?"

I think that should go near the top of the list of dumb questions. Gee, Mom, it's a wonder I remember to eat when you're not around. Look at how I'm wasting away, thank God for family dinner time.

I enjoy food. It's good and fun and all that beneficial stuff. I love going out to eat, I like trying new foods. I will never be anorexic. I haven't the will power, even though I have the anorexic vision. My mirror will always be convex to me.

But sometimes, when I'm up at school, with no one to report to, and my choice is between a can of soup or walking over to the cafeteria, I'll put off eating until I finish my homework. Then until my TV shows are finished. Then until I finish this game on Neopets. I delay it. I dance with the idea of eating, debate just how much I really want to.

I think it's because when I was a kid, I used to count the hours as pauses between meals. I measured days according to the time between lunch and dinner. Because lunch meant we were halfway done, and dinner meant I could go to bed soon, and another day would be over. Breakfast was the worst, because it meant I had to deal with an entire day still- going to school, pretending to be deaf when someone said something mean, trying not to feel paranoid every time someone whispered to a friend and the friend looked at me. It was the closest I ever came to an eating disorder, seeing meals as this oasis between lots and lots of arid daytime.

Now I dare myself to go just one more hour. I spent the majority of my life never knowing how it felt to have your stomach growl, because I filled it before it got the chance. Now I pretend I don't really know when I'm hungry, that I'm still kidding myself, that food is still to alleviate boredom and since I'm not bored, I don't need it.

It's been nearly eight hours since lunch, and I'm not sure if I'm hungry or not. My stomach feels like I have indigestion, and food doesn't seem appetizing. I look at it and see calories. It's a game. I win if I wait five more minutes. I lose if I go for the cookies. I draw if I have carrots. A full pantry is a victory, because it means I haven't eaten any of it yet. An empty pantry is a gluttonous defeat.

I think I've done a full one-eighty in just a couple years, going from anticipating my next meal hours beforehand, to congratulating myself every time I put off eating.

Okay, that was an audible growl from my stomach. Guess it's time for a Lean Pocket, after all.

It's not a disorder if you still eat, right?

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