There’s this group of girls that like to walk past my lunch table almost every day.

They pride themselves on their magazine beauty and barbie-esque bodies.

When someone asks them how they do it they say, “I use laxatives!!” or “C’mon just throw it up! it’s not a big deal..”

They drop “I’m so skinny I’m anorexic!” from their lips and I bite mine in disgust. As if these subjects should be taken lightly.

I want to tell those girls, that in the United States, 30 million people are clinically diagnosed with an eating disorder each year, and every 62 minutes, someone dies as a direct result.

That’s 23 deaths on average, every day.

They don't realize that Anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness because they've taken an eating disorder and made it beautiful.

We’ve all become so consumed with counting,  that we do it with the calories in our cough syrup, and the likes we can get on our before and after weight-loss photos. I can’t walk through the magazine aisle at a grocery store without seeing tooth pick thin beauties on each and every cover. I quickly learned that in order to make people think you’re beautiful you have to think you’re ugly so tell me,  how could I not fall in love with the idea of hating myself?

But above all else, I want to tell those girls that I am 17 years old and my biggest fear is still the bathroom scale.

Ever since I was little, I cut ribbon the size I wanted to be and wore it as a necklace.

I stuck out like a sore thumb so I started shoving mine down my throat.

I’ve never been able to get anyone to understand that while “hell” is a four letter word, so is “food” and sometimes I get the two mixed up.

I uprooted my family tree and set it on fire with the flames of my own insecurity.

Those girls need to understand that laxatives aren’t vitamins, throwing up your food is a big deal, and eating disorders do not discriminate against weight, height, race, or gender.

They are advocates for equality and they don’t deserve to be portrayed as beautiful.

I once went 6 days without looking in the mirror because I couldn’t handle making eye contact with the girl staring back at me. My reflection completely skewed my perception of myself: who I was, and who I thought I should be.

And if any of you think having an eating disorder is something you would want, you’re wrong.

I wouldn’t wish that feeling of repulsion on my worst enemy.

When I entered recovery, my therapist asked me why I did what I did and I told her,

“I thought maybe I’d finally look beautiful in my casket.”

23 people will die today from an eating disorder---and I hope it makes you sick.