Eight.

It's taken a while, but I'm finally happy with my body. Everyone close to me knows I've been bulimic for a long, long time (since I was 11). Up until recently the longest I had gone without making myself throw up was one month, and that was once when I was 16. One month out of 7 years. I'm happy happy happy to say it's been at least two months and I love my body the way it is. I hope it lasts.

Seven.

I'm in San Diego, spending time with new and old friends and I'm about to go sneak into a hotel pool. South County stopped feeling like home. These people feel like home.