My Eating Disorder

I've had a difficult relationship with my body since I was about thirteen. I remember staring in the mirror at my figure in cut off shorts wishing my thighs weren't so thick while applying bright red lipstick to my face in hopes of being attractive. At that awkward age I don't think anyone is really attractive, and if they are they're on the Disney Channel. In freshman year of high school my five foot two inch frame fit snugly into size seven jeans. I was slim, but I wasn't tiny and I wanted so badly to be tiny...That summer my best friend and I made a pact to drop the pounds. We were going to exercise every day and train ourselves to eat less. We would spend the summer taking inspiration from Delias catalogue models and weighing ourselves ritually.

We had it down to a science, and image became our fixation. By the time we returned to school we were proudly strutting around in small sizes and skirts. My personal achievement- a size three with a completely flat stomach. When tempted to get lazy I would caress my newly defined collar bone under my shirt. At home I would lay flat on my floor as I admired the definition of my hip bones and the size of my waist in my mirror. This was the year I drank two water bottles throughout the school day to keep me feeling full until returning home. At home we (best friend and I) would gorge ourselves with ramen noodles and freshly baked chocolate chip muffins followed by hours of intense cardio workouts to counter the calories. This was also the year I bought my first and last pair of size "one" jeans. I was so proud of that number I almost didn't throw the jeans out when it came time.

Bathing suit season was the main objective. We wanted to look like runway models in our suits. I, in fact, was so insecure about my body that I still wore shorts over my size small bathing suit bottom. I was out on the boat with my parents when my mother became aware of the situation. She noticed me leaning forward on front of the boat as my entire rib cage showed through the skin on my back, and when she confronted me about the situation my argument was that since I still ate food regularly and didn't barf it up I couldn't possibly have an eating disorder. Oh the all knowing teenager.

Post high school I started my short lived relationship with alcohol, and I packed on the pounds. I went from a size 5-7 to a 11-13. I was more insecure about my body than I had ever been before. People stopped referring to me as "skinny." I no longer fit into my clothes, and I hid in sweater jackets and the color black.

After a few years some of this weight started to melt off. I became more active, I was more careful about my food choices, and I was focused on finishing college in a positive mental state. My pre-occupation with my weight was beginning to dwindle, and I felt like I was in charge of my own destiny- even my destiny with my weight...

To be continued....