I became obsessed with exercising after ED and I started holding hands. At first I was more active in the starving myself approach, but as the years wore on that just wasn't enough for ED. I had to put more effort into losing weight and doing it more efficiently. In 6th grade I did pilates, but that wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't. I don't remember much exercise after my hospitalization at St. Raphael's in 6th grade, but I do remember vividly the summer of 2007. My family and I were packing our bags and making a much-needed move from Connecticut to Delaware. I had written a note on facebook to all 'Simsburians'(they were their own bitchy species) and received over 30 comments from 'friends' and strangers. In these comments included remarks about my weight, how I'd never measure up to my sister, how no one would miss me...you get the point. At the time that I read these vicious comments we were living in a Hotel in Dover, Delaware. I remember crying my eyes out, and feeling so betrayed. How could 'friends' say such awful things? Anyway, after reading the remarks ED stepped up to the plate and shared his own criticism. He started convincing by that if I lost weight people would like me more, and that it'd be the best way to start off at my new school. So, after realizing the hotel had a workout room, I religiously started exercising. My mom, my sister and I would all workout down in that confined room. I went overboard though. My sister taught me a certain ab exercise that I thought would remove the unwanted fat from my stomach; it was engraved into my mind. I slowly limited my food intake to only fruit, rice cakes, and egg beaters. I checked any other kind of beverage, except for water, off my list. I was fully enclosed in ED's trap. For the duration of our stay in the Hotel I continued to restrict and over exercise. Once we moved into our new home, I invested in tapes by Denise Austin and would exercise to them as if it were my job. If you thought this blog was over right now, you're sadly mistaken. I continued to eat only cottage cheese, fruit, egg beaters and rice cakes for a few weeks and then ED and I compromised that I only needed egg beaters (and his company) to survive. I'd work out for close to an hour a day, running on only 60 calories. I'd drink glass after glass of water and Vanilla Chai Tea (no sugar, no cream/milk) and lay on the couch and watch the Food Network (but that's a whole different story). Soon enough, I was hospitalized for the second and third time where I was forbidden to exercise. While in treatment I found out I couldn't exercise for a full 6 months after being discharged. That didn't go down well at all. Ed spoke up and demanded me to convince my mom to let me exercise after discharge. She agreed as long as I stuck to my diet and exercised in moderation. For over a year I have worked out 5-7 days a week (unless not allowed to because I was restricting). I'm still obsessed with exercising, and if I can't fit it into my schedule or if I do it too late my whole day is ruined. Exercise gives me confidence about my body, and about eating healthy. For Ed, it's just another way to set me on a path of destruction, losing weight, and holding his hand again. I work out for an hour to an hour-and-a-half everyday of the week just so I feel secure and worthy. Without those crucial moments of exercise I become anxious, I doubt eating, and Ed's pounding fist comes knocking on my door. I have tried many different exercise routines just to satisfy Ed's needs, but the only thing he needs is for me to be skinny. Slowly, I'm starting to exercise because I want to look good, not because Ed wants me to look good. Exercise has been a crucial part in my recovery