Typically, losing 15 pounds is a call for celebration.

However, when that means you're nineteen years old and 85 pounds, its something to worry about.

The medication that I'm on, the kind that makes my serotonin levels rise, has diminished my appetite greatly and it has dragged me back down into what I call the 'anorexia mentality.'

I've always been on the skinnier side and I was teased about it all throughout school. In middle school, especially. A girl in my class constantly called me anorexic and made jokes about me puking in the bathrooms.

I think she was definitely mixing anorexia with bulimia but we were 12 so I'll look past this error.

In the changing rooms for P.E. or for after-school sports, girls would make comments about how boys don't like girls who are 'all bones.' This idea of me being different because of my genetics has stuck with me.

The fact that I'm skinny and the fact that my childhood bullies relentlessly teased me about it has caused for me to be a little weight obsessive. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, my peers and adults I looked up to (doctors, teachers, family friends) would make comments about my weight.

I was skinny; I assumed it was all people saw when they looked at me. Even when I was at the hospital a few months ago, the nurses would take my vitals and comment on how small and frail my arms were.

They would say things like, "Oh, you poor thing. Of course, you're cold, you don't have any meat on those bones," when, actually, I was cold because it was like 60 degrees there.

I have a number. Every woman I know has a number. The number that you would absolutely hate seeing when you step on that awful scale of truth. The number that would crush you inside; absolutely devastate you.

My number is smaller than others because my size has been an always expected gift.

I fear that one day I'll reach my number.

I fear to be heavier than my personal ideal because then who would I be?

I am frail, I am small. Without that, what's left?

I know that's neurotic and might seem completely strange to you, but it's what's been implanted in me from day one; my weight is my identity.

I'm seen as weaker than I truly am and I've gone with it my whole life. I eat food, I do. I love burgers and fries and chocolate. I've always been nonchalant about it because it wasn't usually the truth. But now that I have a small appetite I fear being seen as anorexic again.

I don't want to be dragged back down to that level, I don't want to be critiqued for the way that I eat or the foods that I eat.

My medication makes me happy, a feeling I wouldn't trade for anything. I'd rather eat less than in back in that pit of despair, but I understand that I do need to eat in order to live.

I'm trying, that's all the world can ask of me.

Eating for me has always been hard. There are certain fatty foods I avoid for health and fear reasons. To all those out there who are struggling with your weight, whether you see yourself as too large or too small, all you can do is try.

Our relationships with food are complex, don't let fear run yours. Here's to eating burgers and drinking milkshakes. Here's to self love and self care above the care of others.