End of the Lipo

So I wonder if you remember the time I passed out on the toilet and I woke up upside down in the corner with a big old goose egg on my forehead and a new humble attitude.
It was the second night after my first Interferon injection. More than 6 months ago. Oh what a miserable sad little time that was.
This coming Friday I will be taking my 28th, what should be my last injection, and it don't be like that now. I'm fine. Happy. Skinny.
Did you notice that word? Skinny?
I don't know that I have ever used it referring to myself before.

When I was first in the hospital in Thailand to have my sex change surgery I asked the doctor if he could also do a little liposuction around my ample waist and associated areas of shame. He looked at me for a minute and said,"No, Heidi, it wouldn't really change anything. You have a certain body shape and lipo wont change that. I could do it, but you should save the money for something more important."
I weighed, at the time, right at 200 lbs even.
Over the four years since then I have fought tooth and nail to get that number down and keep it down and it has been an ugly cat fight the whole time. I got to where I considered anything even near 190 a moral victory, and anything under a triumph.
When I started this treatment, weighing 186, last spring,  the worst part, worse even than falling off the toilet, was being forced to eat 60 grams of fat every day, day in and day out, to dissolve the Incevek, at $600 a day, and get it into the blood to hunt viri. Greek yoghurt, full glasses of half-and-half, butter on everything, and, to this day , fuck peanut butter. 186 to start with,  12 weeks later I weighed 202 and beyond hating myself, I was simply, helplessly astonished at the firm roundness and the sheer size of my thighs and the massive swell of belly that obscured any view of foot or shoe. At first as you rapidly gain like that, the cellulite fills in and your skin gets this inflated sheen that is almost attractive. But not.
Then phase 2 started.
12 weeks later, I weigh 167.6 this morning.
How does that happen?
Once I stopped the fat madness at week 12 the whole dynamic changed. I quit eating at all. 
The interferon takes away any real appetite, and it makes my gums sore so it is painful to chew. Like when I was in DePaul doing my drug/alcohol treatment, I had all my remaining teeth pulled and got a set of false teeth and it was so hard to eat I became the first woman in DePaul history to actually weigh less after 6 months than before.
I am disgusted with food. It all tastes weird, and I am not used to eating very much. Half a little red potato and half a yam and I am good to go.
But I feel the same about food as I felt about dope at the end. It is nothing but trouble, it makes me ashamed of myself, and I cannot pretend one second longer that I like it.
Anorexia...
Hell yeah!