(Alright! Here's a new story I'm working on. Trigger warnings include eating disorders, anorexia. I hope you enjoy! Please leave me some feedback and let me know what you love and don't like. Jordo.)

"Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away." Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The alarm jolts me awake. I force my eyes open and blearily peer at the red digits. 6:00 am. Time to begin another day.

I push back the sheets and revel in the cool air from the ceiling fan on my sweaty body. Virginia is in the middle of an impressive heatwave, much to everyone's chagrin. With days hitting the triple digit and nights barely bringing relief, there's not much to do for comfort without using your life savings to run the AC around the clock. The thin tank top and sleep shorts I wore to bed stick unpleasantly to my skin as I pull myself into a sitting position and swing my feet to the floor. I pause for a moment, stifling a yawn and trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. Then I stand on my already weary feet, forcing myself to start the day.

I somehow make it through a shower, make up, and doing my hair without crawling back into bed. I grab my coffee from where it has brewed at the Keurig and catch a glimpse of the time. 7:30 am. Shit. I need to be heading out the door right now, and I'm not dressed and I still haven't had breakfast.

I ransack my closet, suddenly aware that I haven't done laundry in apparently months. My go to choices for work wear are balled up on the floor of my closet or in the bottom of my hamper. I finally find an old pair of pants from when I was brand new to the bureau. I pull them on and hastily work on the buttons on the blouse I secured from between two sweaters. I go to button the pants and fail. Could this morning get any worse? I suck in my stomach, trying in vain to fasten the button. I even lay down on the bed, thinking that somehow if I was horizontal the pants would begin to cooperate. I give up, peeling them off. Trying to push down my frustration, I pull a pencil skirt out of my hamper.

I stick my feet into a pair of flats lying by the front door, grab my keys, and run for the SUV. I'm going to be late and I hate it. Being late always makes me frazzled and sets the tone for my whole day. I sigh heavily as I sit stopped at an intersection. It is then that my stomach growls loudly, reminding me that breakfast had been sacrificed in the war between me and my pants.

I find myself confused as to why they didn't fit. Yes, I wasn't quite the 'corn fed size 0' that Spence had professed me to be, but had I really gained that much weight? For the rest of my commute across town, I find myself trying to recall the last time I had even weighed myself. I know that I had been weighed as part of my physical for gaining FBI entry. The Bureau was very strict about prospectives not being under or over weight. I had been probably 120? It's true that I hadn't been going to the gym as much lately but I honestly couldn't find the time. Between the long hours in the office and jetting across the country for days at a time with no warning, I couldn't exactly take a spin class. And when I did have a rare day off, I was exhausted. I just wanted to sit on the couch and watch Netflix, trying desperately not to think of the horrors that waited on my desk in the BAU.

I shook myself from my thoughts as I walked across the bullpen. I'm about ten minutes late, and everyone is already at their desks, buried in their work. I return a few smiles and squeeze Spence's shoulder as I walk past. Letting myself into my office, I sit down my stuff and begin to sort through the emails and phone calls. All the desperate pleas for help from across the country, needing assistance in protecting their communities from the worst of men.

A light knock on the door pulls my eyes from my computer screen. Emily is poking her head in.

"Hey you. Morgan and I are gonna go downstairs and grab some lunch. Wanna join?"

"Isn't it a little early for lunch?"

Her mouth pulls into a smirk. "Jayje, it's 12:30. C'mon, you obviously need a break."

I can't help but laugh. "Wow, I thought it was like 10."

"Well, you know what they say, time flies when you're having fun." Her tone is light but I can't help but grimace. Nothing about how I spent this morning seems fun. I grab my wallet from my purse and join her.

We are talking about her latest attempt at dating when we meet Morgan at the elevator.

"He actually pulled the "show me your weapon and I'll show you mine' line? That's disgusting!" My nose wrinkles as I laugh at her misfortune.

"Prentiss where do you even find these men?" Morgan questions as we descend in the elevator.

"I don't know! Normal places! Like the grocery store or my coffee place."

"You met 'weapons unholstered' guy at Starbucks?"

"Uhm.. no. We, well I had gone, it's um…"

"What?" Morgan and I ask in unison.

"I found him through OK Cupid, okay?" At this point, we can't contain our laughter. "Nothing in his profile suggested that he would be so skeezy!"

"Y'know Prentiss, for a profiler, you are an awful bad judge of character when it comes to dates." Morgan teased.

Emily groaned. "Don't I know it. Maybe I should just give up. Get Sergio a nice cat friend and accept my fate."

Still laughing at her devastatingly bad date, we split up to look for lunch in the Bureau cafeteria. Without the distraction of my coworkers, I can now feel the persistent rumbling of my stomach. I grab a coke from the refrigerated display as well as a bag of cheetos and a roast beef sandwich. While waiting in line to pay I see a package of Reese's peanut butter cups, my favorites. I add them to my stack. When I get to the register I sit down my finds and begin to dig for my debit card in my wallet. The tiny elderly woman behind the counter clucks her tongue as she scans in my food.

"My, my! Eating for two, are we?" I stare blankly at her, unsure of what she is talking about.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh dear, you don't have to act so shy. You've already got a cute little belly!" And with that she places her hand against my stomach, rubbing affectionately.

My face flushes as mortification makes blood pound in my ears at the realization of what she's implying. "Oh! I'm not- no! Definitely- I'm not." I stammer.

She nods good naturedly as she swipes my card and hands me my tray of food. "Don't worry, this will just stay between us." I try to think of a way to reassure this woman- this stranger- that I am not pregnant but her eyes have already slid from me to the next person in line. I walk to the table secured by Emily and Morgan, still in shock.

"JJ? You alright?"

"I… the woman who checked me out thought I was pregnant." My friends are silent for a moment, then bust out laughing.

"You? Does she know what pregnancy looks like?" Morgan practically cackles.

"What a bitch! Do you want me to fight her for you?" Emily throws in.

"I think I can take all 70 pounds that little old Carol has to offer, thanks Em."

"Well, I just had to offer, y'know with you in such a delicate condition." She pokes her tongue out at me and I throw a cheeto at her.

"But seriously, Jayje, that's ridiculous. Do not listen to her, you are tiny!" she continues.

"I mean you're not in as good shape as me, but don't let it get you down." Morgan tilted back in his chair. "Hey I'll train you if you want?"

"Uhm, she doesn't have a death wish." came Emily's retort.

"For your information, Emily Prentiss, I am an outstanding trainer."

"Yeah right, you left Spencer and Garcia scarred. They've never been the same!"

I listen to my friend s banter back and forth, throwing in a comment where needed. First my pants not fitting, now this woman all but accusing me of having a baby bump… I surveyed my lunch time choices. It suddenly seemed silly, no, ludicrous, for an FBI agent in one of the most elite units to be eating such empty, easy foods. After all, you are what you eat. And I want to be the best.