Throughout my school years I was an active kid. I played softball, delivered the paper, and later worked at the local pizza joint. I was always a little pudgy but I just figured I was a bigger girl. When I was in high school, my body image issues didn’t just come to life, they set up camp in my mind where they could pick at me day and night. One afternoon I was wearing one of those groovy V-neck sweaters that required a collared shirt underneath. My sweater was yellow and my blouse was black and white. I walked into the lunchroom one day, and a guy I didn’t even know came up to me and said, “Hey, look at the giant banana.” That was it. I stopped eating. I swear I didn’t eat anything for about six months, except every other Friday when I’d allow myself two breadsticks (the little crusty ones that come in packs) and one pizza puff per month. I was playing spring softball, and one afternoon I passed out from hunger on third base. I didn’t care about my health. All I wanted was no one calling me a fat banana ever again. Sometimes I’d let myself eat two breadsticks for lunch and dinner. Wow, talk about living on the edge. Eventually I graduated to a couple of chicken sandwiches from Wendy’s each week. By the time I went to college, between the fasting and all my campus activities, I’d become quite svelte and men began to pay attention to me. I had no idea how to deal with this, since the main attention I’d drawn previously was as the literal butt of a fat joke!