Ahh, Facebook. You wolf in sheep’s clothing, you. A veritable Taylor Swift, if you will.
I love me some T. Swizzle.
But it’s true. I have a love/hate relationship with The Book.
You see, when I was deep in the throes of my anorexia, Facebook was just a fetus. As in, only my older brothers had profiles, because you had to have an “.edu” email address to sign up. Not that it really mattered at the time…AOL instant messaging was eating up too much time to care about Facebook. *scoffs*
But it’s true.
The photo section of my Facebook profile is hard for me to scroll through.
Because there is a large chunk of time where photos are just not there.
Now, to be clear, all of my albums when I was visibly sick are set to the privacy status of…
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