There was a habit once kicked, it was nasty and it was gone. Three years of it controlling a life, three years of a voice, a nag, something that had all the control yet none at all.
It destroyed a self esteem, it destroyed a confidence, it destroyed a person. After three years that person was not a person, they were a skeleton, they were hollow.
It wasn't just for the collar bones, the hip bones, or the thigh gap. It wasn't just because life wasn't grand, because really it is. It was gaining and losing control.
The first time it happened was an accident, a polite denial, the second time was partial choice, because you don't need it. The third time was a choice, my oh my what a choice it was.
It continues like that, with concerned glances and questions, but do they really care? Not the way this voice does, this voice is what gives you liberation and a choice.
A year goes by, there is nothing left to the person, just a hollow shell with an obsessed idea. It's dangerous, but their friend tells them risk a lot to gain a lot.
Two years go by, hushed rumors and whispers go around, because they look breakable. Nobody can get passed the voice, because it's their choice, it is their own and not yours.
Three years and a breaking point has been met. Two weeks in a hospital, nutrients and liquids all being forced back into your body. The voice is no longer screaming.
The road to health is long, harsh, there are challenges they can't choose to leave out. They've lost the right to their choice, they've lost their control, their freedom.
Long down the road they are healthy, they are happy, they can taste again and enjoy again. They've forgotten about that voice, because it's whisperes have died.
The first time it happened it was an accident, just a polite decline. The second was an excuse, simply that. The third time was when the voice is back.
A year later and they've come to terms that they aren't better, they've never been better, and maybe, they just wouldn't get better.