To put it bluntly, I was a recovering anorexic. At my lowest weight I was 5'1 and 104 lbs, which isn't exactly unhealthy, but the way that I lost the weight, it put a lot of strain on my heart since I was coming down from 140 lbs. Last time I checked, I was 176 right now- my highest weight ever- and I think that's what triggered me again. I'm so obsessive about it right now that it's almost sick. I feel disgusting, I've been working out obsessively and taking caffiene pills to keep my energy up. I've given up solid food in favor of energy supplements and meal replacements again. My head knows that this is wrong, but my heart is encouraging it. It's a sick cycle.
My measurements are 37DD-30-41. Exactly one year ago I was 35.5DD-27-38. I wasn't happy at that, but I was comfortable at it. I felt fine walking across the stage at graudation, I was gorgeous in my dress. 2004's Thanksgiving I was the smallest I've ever been. I have a picture of my cousin and I and you can just look at my eyes and tell that they're dead. You can look at my face and see the paleness and the miserable feelings just written across it. And then you can look at my younger cousin who is sitting on my lap and see how she looks at me with adoration. The fact that I'm this mentally fucked up and she still looks up to me is scary. It's not right- I know that.
But I can't help it. My family doesn't understand, but I'm fucking miserable. I come from a family of gorgeous people, from a family of athletes and dancers. I'm from a family where perfection is demanded of you, not asked. They love me unconditionally, I know that, but at one point in every single family member's life they have had that perfection. They've been that size 0, they've won state championships, they were what everyone wanted them to be.
I was my high school's cheerleading captain for two years. I tumbled like nobody's business- hell, I tumbled on a fractured ankle for two weeks and just sucked the pain up for the team. I've starved myself for months on end. I've been in outpatient programs. I've danced pre-professionally. I've lived in NYC and south Florida. I have a father who adores me. I have a 3.8 unweighted gpa.
But I'm also unemployed and feel disgusting. I push everyone away. I don't speak to most of my former friends and I can't be bothered to make friends at the college I'm at. I have to take drugs to sleep. I've broken both wrists and both ankles so I can't tumble or cheer again. Nor can I dance because my ankles can't support me in that way anymore. I'm almost deaf. I have a Comp and Lit professor who hates me and is COMPLETELY defying the Americans with Disibilities Act by giving me *audio assignments* constantly. But most of all I despise myself.
And do you see how the bad outweighs the good?
And again, I know that I'm beating myself up unnecessarily. This is mostly because I had Wendy's for dinner and I feel like a cow. I've ate twice today, and will work out only once. That's not nearly enough to burn all of the necessary calories for me to feel acceptable for public viewing. So I hide, I hide in gyms, in my house, in my room, in my head, in my car. I keep away from the world because I know that these people are a lot more harsh than the voices in my head are.
And so this is my story. These are my flaws, this is the raw me that I keep hidden at all times. This is the raw, unadulterated truth of an anorexic, of a bitch, and of the golden child of the family. This is everything I am and more. This is me.
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