I'm only crying because I got three hours of sleep

"A wise man once said that you can have anything in life, if you sacrifice everything else for it."
-a quote of a quote from Grey's Anatomy



Tonight I went with my mother to a Pizza Hut right around the corner from my house for dinner. Ed, disgusted at me already, told me that the only way he would allow me to eat such trash was to go for the lesser evil-"The Natural" made with all-natural ingredients and a multi-grain crust.

That would be perfect! See, and you're indulging. And you say I never let you indulge, Ed said and we took off to our dinner destination with high hopes.

Unfortunately (for Ed mostly) it turned out they didn't offer "The Natural" anymore. Instead, I was forced to order a normal...white crust...hand-tossed pizza. Ed was mortified.

For the better part of our ridiculously long wait, Ed was screaming in my head, What the hell?! Are you actually going to eat a real, fast food pizza?! It's FAST FOOD, Megan! I hope you realize this. Think of all the extra oils...and the grease and-

Leave me alone. I'm not going to get fat, I tried to make myself believe.

Oh really? And who told you this? People who don't know you at all?! People who don't care about you the way I do?! Ed snapped back.

People who love me, I said and the pizza arrived and I ate it and I waited to hear what terrible things Ed would say. But he didn't say terrible things. In fact, he didn't say anything at all. For the first time in my relationship with Ed, I waited, prepared to face his criticizing attack, and got silence instead.

I was, in no way, able to silence Ed on my own. Oddly enough that beautiful, seemingly impossible accomplishment was the work of no nutritionist, or therapist, or even psychiatrist, but of someone not in the least bit qualified for any of these fields.

But he can speak to me like no one else can. He can entrust confidence in me even when Ed is inevitably knocking it down. He makes me feel as though I am the most beautiful person in the world wearing sweats and a T-shirt while Ed ridicules my naked body in the mirror every night.

He loves me. He wants to see me happy. All Ed ever wanted was pain and anguish on my behalf.

And now I'm finally realizing what's really important. Should I be consumed trying to please an evil, superficial voice in my head that will never accept me no matter how hard I try, or should I be happy with who already adores me for who I am?

"Screw Ed," he says, "You're perfect."

Maybe if I concentrate on that long enough I'll start to believe it myself.