In today's episode I tell a couple stories about the most tumultuous relationship

I've ever been in, the ups and downs in my journey to self-love through the end.

A surprising piece of advice from my cousin when I traveled to

London really stuck with me and it's something that I cherish to this day.

So I hope you guys enjoy passing through episode, London.

I didn't eat that summer. Well, I ate, but not that much.

I'd grab two slices of wheat bread, toss them in the coaster,

then generously spread half a scoop of peanut butter on their bellies.

I didn't even care if I chose the chunky, flavorless beginning of the loaf.

You know the part that everyone throws away? That's how much your girl was going

through it. I was eaten the butt of the bread.

That was my meal for the day. That was the menu for the week.

Tose was the only form of solid substance I had energy to prepare.

A ploy to silence my stomach's rumbling protests.

I'd lost my appetite before, for the same exact reasons I lost my appetite then.

A boy, but not just any boy, my first real boyfriend.

We met as romantically as any 16-year could, standing in line, anxiously awaiting our entry into an STI-S pool known as a 15-and-up club, which I think has finally closed down due to like 793 health and safety violations? I spent the

previous weekend trying to romance his handsome Nigerian sidekick to no avail.

But that was then. This was now and I wasn't going to waste this forever 21 fifth for no one.

My hair was pinned straight, fresh off a hit of that creamy crack, a teal blue tube top stop

just above my navel, and I was rocking a crispy pair of off white Kay Swisses.

Your girl was filling herself. I could feel Chris's gaze beckoning mine the moment I slid in line.

...