The Day That I Wake Up

What if something happens one day, a wreck, I hit my head, something, and I wake up in the hospital. Totally blank of the past, no recollection of anything.  Would that be possible? Just to wake up one day and say, “I want pizza.” To have no recollection of fearing food, hating myself.
What if one day I wake up and eating isn’t something I dread. I recall that there are actually three meals during the day, breakfast, lunch, dinner. I want to see food, not numbers. Work out because I love it, not because I feel obligated.  To remember the taste of peanut butter, bananas, pizza. To wear jeans and not feel awful. 
Not have a headache. Not have my insides crampy and twisted from laxatives. To keep something down. To not be so moody, sad, hateful. To not only have hunger cues, but be able to listen to them. To not be so tired and have a period. Having nails, that aren’t blue and peeling. Wearing clothes without being freezing and wearing a tremendous amount of layers. 
To have a life that revolves around something other than food and my poor body image. Having a passion and spark about something once again.

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