I wasted a year of high school starving myself. Tall is fine when you’re 30-something, but back then my 5-foot 9-inch healthy frame didn’t fit the tiny sophomore cheerleader mold, and I concluded—I must be a big girl. I was a smart girl, too, who should’ve known better. Straight A’s looked great on college applications, but they did nothing to enhance the mirror image. So I did what good overachievers do. I set a goal. My goal was to be skinny—and I chased it with gusto. For breakfast, I rationed exactly half a cup of cereal because the box said …
