Katsumi stared at the ceiling. She'd been staring for an hour already.
[i]beep-beep-beep[/i]
Her alarm was finally going off, and a wave of relief and dread mixed together washed through her body. But still, she stared. The alarm grew louder, crescendo-ing into it's most annoying pitch as she had programmed it to the day earlier. She knew she needed to turn it off, if only out of common courtesy to the person in the room next to her, but her arms felt like heavy concrete blocks under the blanket she was smothered in. In her half awake state, a panicky thought darted through her mind.
[i][color=ed1c24]"What if these blankets are trapping me here?!"[/color][/i]
But reason soon returned to her sleepy mind, and to prove herself wrong she moved her ghost-like arm out beneath the blankets and turned off the alarm.
And then stared.
Another panicky thought entered her brain, but this one was logical. The ever present, all important question to Katsumi.
[i][color=ed1c24]"What did I eat last night?"[/color][/i]
Night time was binge time, it was when the little buggers inside her brain that thought they were keeping her alive took over. Way back when she was eating 300 calories a day, these late night snacks probably [b]WERE[/b] keeping her alive. Now that she was eating 1700, these were terrifying. Did she gain weight? How much, and what of it was water weight? WHAT DID SHE EAT LAST NIGHT? 
	Her panic rose higher, rising like the beeping of her alarm minutes earlier, but her brain, hindered by sleep and now panic, was blank to the answer. Flinging the sheets off herself when only a little before she thought she'd never get up, Katsumi raced over to the mirror and scale that sat in the corner of her dorm. Her skin crawled, her stomach felt sick, her muscles jumped around in her skin like crazy little tic tacs being shaken inside their box. She paused in front of the square that ruled her life.
 She entered an eerie calm, the kind you can only achieve on the edge of panic. 
She stripped every article of clothing.
She lifted her foot.
She placed it on the scale.
She stepped on.
Plus one.
Crouching down slowly, she wrapped her translucent arms around her knees. Why was this happening? She'd done this. 
[i][color=ed1c24]"Failure. Disgusting. Friendless. Dying. Broken."[/color][/i]
...
[i][color=ed1c24]FAT.[/color][/i]

She looked up, still crouched down into the mirror. Folds, fat, imperfections and lines made before her time. She straightened up, went to her dresser and found her pressed uniform hanging next to it. She pulled the shirt on and stepped into the skirt. 
This needed a hoodie. She found her baggiest one laying on the floor and pulled it on. If anyone asked, she was cold. They couldn't yell at her for being cold, could they? Not with her medical history at least.
Pulling her hair into a sloppy ponytail, she gave one last worrying glance into the mirror, put her head down and hurried out the door and headed to the cafeteria. She was significantly late and  if she saw anyone, she didn't pay attention.
She never did.