My breasts evaporated. Like they were never there at all. I saw an old bra and it was like looking at another life, another person. I could never be the person who wore that--the one who ate, who was able to eat despite all the pain, who deserved to eat even though she couldn't stop the pain. The breast-less me worked at making herself worthy to eat--she had a few brief minutes of semi-worthiness before the guilt consumed her. Breasts only added weight.