An apple a day keeps the doctor away, or so they say.
But what if that apple is the only thing you eat all day?
What would the doctor say then?

I stare at the apple sitting on my desk and the knife lying next to it. Methodically, I start peeling it and cutting it into symmetrical cubes, anything left over gets thrown out. When I’m done, I have nine equal cubes. I eat one slowly, savoring the taste, then put the rest in a small plastic container. My meals for the day.

I open the closet door and regard myself in the mirror. I can just feel the apple making its way down my throat and into my stomach. My stomach. My great weakness, but in a way, my greatest strength. I can control exactly what goes in, what goes out. It seems as if lately that’s all I can control. I pinch the minimal bits of fat and skin.I gently finger my hips, my ribs, my collarbones. My beautiful, beautiful bones. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought that one day, I’ll be able to see them all.

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