Excerpt: How I Lost 10 Pounds in 2 Hours

When my dad was in the hospital, he needed to get his blood drawn every two hours, and when they came in, he'd say, “The vampires are here.” I hate getting my blood drawn. I have to go in every week, or I'm supposed to. I didn't go in for about 3 months. At first, it was because I hadn't been taking my blood thinner pills regularly. Not because I disliked the dizziness and weakness and and dry mouth and loss of sexual pleasure, just because I'd forget. It was hard to remember. Every night at ten. Then once I got on track, school started up and I was so busy. But I think secretly it was about the pain, because then it became about the pain. I hated it so much, my veins were (are) hard to find and would disappear. They still do, I guess. But there was this strange power thing, too - I hated feeling helpless. I hated being a slave to these vampires who jab at me and steal my blood. I hated having one more pain that I had no control over. So I didn't go. I knew I had to eventually, but I just put it off.

But I knew I'd have to go back, that eventually the vampires would come for me. I never had the control. They had always controlled me, and I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to believe in myself. It was like a comforting bedtime story I'd tell myself at night to keep the vampires at bay.