The thinner I get, the fatter I feel. Not all the time. Not every second of every day. There are moments when I feel skinny. When my clothes are loose and I catch a glimpse of my ribs. When I feel my ribs. Or my hip bones. But, most of the time, my head is filled with a never ending tirade about how fat I am. And I am trying my very very best to shut it down. Sometimes, though, I do wish I could unload this noise on someone else so they could tell me I’m not fat and all that noise is crazy.