It gets like a prison… (Trigger Warning: ED)

It gets like a prison in the body I’m living in – LIGHTS Pretend

Originally written: 1st July 2011

I have a extreme love/hate relationship with food.

This stemmed from a day in the mall. I was 15. I was with a friend, and she happened to pull a pair of jeans off the rack and said to me, “This is your size!” the jeans in question were a US size 00 (kindly do your conversions.) at the time I was a US size 4. Since that day I have fought with myself. I HAD to have the body to fit into those jeans, even if I died in the process.

Today, I am a US Size 9. Today, I still feel fat. I still walk into a store, and my heart sinks when a pair of jeans or a shirt doesn’t fit or my size isn’t in-stock. I still tell myself, “If you go without food, you’ll get thin enough to fit in that size that they have.”

Just recently I gave away a ton of clothes to the Good Will that didn’t fit anymore, and my first thought wasn’t “A needy family could use this.” it was “If only I was thinner…” I probably sounded really selfish then, but this what those inner demons tell you. Anyone will tell you that the ‘little voice inside your head’ can be a nasty enabler.

You see, my case didn’t stem from models in magazines. It came from a friend.

You’re supposed to have an ‘average’ 2,000 calorie diet. My calorie counter says for my weight (which I don’t even know what it is, I guessed.) is 1,400. Let’s just say some days I barely break 600.

This is another issue that I’m not taken seriously, if I say “I feel really fat today.” I get laughed at and told “I don’t want to even hear the word ‘fat’ come out of your mouth.”

I wish there was some magic mirror in which I can then show how I look to myself to others, maybe then I could get taken seriously.

“But you’re so thin! I would KILL to have your body.” Would it comfort you to know that I’m very well killing ME to have it?

It’s one of the worst feelings in the world. It’s right up there with feeling alone and abandoned.


Updated: 2nd January 2012

I never really talked about my ED here, but I am today, because Twitter triggered me to talk about it. It’s something I don’t always mention because it’s none of any-one’s business.

I’d happen to have that “I’d kill…” comment said to me again, recently. I tweeted about it, and unfortunately, the hashtag I used, #EDProblems caused two pro-ana people to follow me yesterday.

I’m not proud of my eating disorder. I don’t go around flaunting that I threw up today or that I exercised for three hours and still didn’t burn every last calorie that I consumed.

I keep those things to myself…’til now.

I read Unbearable Lightness: A Story of Loss & Gain, it’s Portia De Rossi’s book about her eating disorder, and how she defeated it. I’ve never cried so hard over a book. Everything she talks about in the book is similar to what I go through every day.

I’m not proud of watching my calorie intake. I’m not proud of staring at the treadmill’s ‘Calories Burned’ meter and having it not match up to the intake I recorded. I’m not even sure if that meter is even accurate, it’s probably just made to make you think you burned that much.

A thirty minute walk at 2 miles per hour tells me I burned 117 calories. Sometimes I eat 300 calories alone at breakfast, and I get frustrated that I didn’t burn it all. Frustrated to the point where I deny myself lunch.

People don’t think I have a ED because I hide it very well, I eat around people so they don’t think anything is out of the ordinary when in reality I would like to starve.

I’m not proud of my eating disorder, and I never will be.