I used to be 138 lbs
I had a “fine ass”
I had an athletic build
I was buff
I looked in the mirror and I loved that girl
I looked in that mirror and I wanted to tear her apart
Constant nausea. Self-disgust.
I lifted the cupcake to my mouth. Revulsion. Bile.
I threw it away. That food they gave me.
“Eat” “You’re killing yourself” “Why are you doing this?”
I don’t know. I don’t know.
I’m 124 lbs now. Up from 116.
My body started to eat my muscles to cope.
Burn 4,000 calories. Eat less than 1,000.
You look gaunt. Skeletal. You’re too skinny. Put some meat on those bones.
If you would just eat everything would be okay.
My bones started to tear themselves apart.
I recovered. Got to 124 lbs just so I could work out again.
I got reinjured.
1 hour. 2 hours. 3 hours. 4 hours. I could never be satiated at the gym.
My period. I’m losing my period.
I’m having a relapse and I don’t know why.
I’m terrified but I have nowhere to run to.
I want to ask for help. I want someone to notice I’m drowning in this blackness.
But I’m… Fading away.
Like a skeletal shadow of who I used to be.
That girl in the mirror… She’s fat. Look at those thick thighs. That ridiculously big butt. That double chin. She could afford to lose more weight.
I take the salad. I relapse.
Oh I’m just not hungry.
No, that’s too much. Take it back.
Every day is a fight not to fall back into starvation.
I have to fight through one meal at a time. Fight to get 3 meals a day. Fight to keep the food down.
Fight to not spend hours researching weight loss. Fight not to compulsively exercise to burn fat. Fight to look away from those magazines with the contoured abs and photoshop and remind myself “I am enough”
I don’t believe it. But we need reminders- eatpraylove