I stare at the meal before me.
Its a meal filled with time, care and love from my grandmother.
An old fashioned cooked meal, one that could rally with the superb chefs in the world (or so my family and I believed.).
"Lindsay, eat it for goodness sakes!" I heard my mother say, as she herself took a bite of delicious pasta.
"Are you sure? I mean, considering calorie-wise-" I thought aloud, earning a scoff from my sister.
"Eat it! Jeez!" She barked, and instantly my fork was in the confines of pasta haven. Needless to say, I ate it. Oh, I ate it alright-all the while thinking of how to loose the weight from said meal. I imagined my body slowly expanding, then soon I would imagine the worst.
To say I had a slight disorder was...Well, correct. Coupled with anxiety/depression issues, I was a classic representation of...Well, whatever you would call constantly monitoring what you ate, how much of it, and then congratulating yourself for hardly eating anything and loving the sensation of starvation.
Uhm...Right then. So I might have a slight eating disorder. I mean, compared to how I was before (I.E., throwing up whenever I could, trying to skip meals, etc.) this was nothing. I prolly could've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those pesky friends and family of mine! And that talking do-Oh wait, no talking dog. Sorry, got carried away there.
Still; if I had to caculate how much I concentrated on calories and body image...Well, I'd say it took a good amount of the day. So much so that it became impulse.
Oh look, the ColdStone ice cream shop!
Are you serious!? You already had a cup last week! No more of those gruesome calories for you, young lady!
B-But--! Oh you're right, evil body image conscience. Lets munch on a Special K bar instead. Only 90 calories!
Yeah, and 12% saturated fats! Can you imagine?!
So...I was also a health nut...
But it wasn't like I found fault with those who were a little more than average weight. In fact, I didn't see anything wrong with them.
Nope. I was the only one in the wrong. Me, me, me, moi, I, ME. I was body-obsessed-well, if it had to do with the weight factor.
I grasp exercise whenever I can-whether it be in the form of going up and down the stairs of my house, dancing in my room, or scootering in my backyard. (The Wii Fit was not an option for me, as it insulted me and was too boring for me.) I also got plenty of it from work, constantly moving around and doing something.
It felt great to me, just imagining shedding the calories and fats of the day behind me in an invisible trail. It was liberating.
But then when I literally craved for something to eat-my stomach would turn inside out in pain. It would cripple me if I skipped a meal or two, but I felt proud that I could stave off the pangs by drinking metabolism-enriching green tea.
Saltines are my best friend, (I can't eat celery-makes me gag)tea was my mother and gum was my father. Providing it be sugarless, of course.
But I didn't always follow this staple diet. I knew that if I did, my metabolism would slow to a crawl and make me...Well, the dreaded 'f' word. (Which could also mean ********, because that's what I would be as well.)
So I indulged at times, but also hated myself afterward.
The vicious cycle continues and continues. My therapist says my body image is all in my head-that I was distorting the view in the mirror.
But even then, it wasn't comforting that I was always a 130 lbs. I only hit 135 in the middle of my period, and that wasn't fun either. I would crave to see myself pencil-stick thin, to admire visible ribs and a totally flat stomach, but curse the genus of my dna! I had the muscles of both sides of my family, which I should be glad for but...I would have to literally starve myself like a refugee of a concentration camp to be the way I wanted to be. I knew it was sick and wrong to want to be sickly thin, but at least I'd have the comfort of knowing I wasn't...You know...Pudgy. Or something like that.
So I continue the vicious cycle, and even as I type this I chew my sugarless gum with a side of water.
For those who are confident with their bodies, I commend you greatly!
For those who aren't, I feel your pain.
It sucks to be this way, but I can't break the cycle. I don't write this to get any sympathy, but to just get it off of my chest, mind you. So I don't need to feel like its consuming my life...Is that a pun I detect?
Its a meal filled with time, care and love from my grandmother.
An old fashioned cooked meal, one that could rally with the superb chefs in the world (or so my family and I believed.).
"Lindsay, eat it for goodness sakes!" I heard my mother say, as she herself took a bite of delicious pasta.
"Are you sure? I mean, considering calorie-wise-" I thought aloud, earning a scoff from my sister.
"Eat it! Jeez!" She barked, and instantly my fork was in the confines of pasta haven. Needless to say, I ate it. Oh, I ate it alright-all the while thinking of how to loose the weight from said meal. I imagined my body slowly expanding, then soon I would imagine the worst.
To say I had a slight disorder was...Well, correct. Coupled with anxiety/depression issues, I was a classic representation of...Well, whatever you would call constantly monitoring what you ate, how much of it, and then congratulating yourself for hardly eating anything and loving the sensation of starvation.
Uhm...Right then. So I might have a slight eating disorder. I mean, compared to how I was before (I.E., throwing up whenever I could, trying to skip meals, etc.) this was nothing. I prolly could've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those pesky friends and family of mine! And that talking do-Oh wait, no talking dog. Sorry, got carried away there.
Still; if I had to caculate how much I concentrated on calories and body image...Well, I'd say it took a good amount of the day. So much so that it became impulse.
Oh look, the ColdStone ice cream shop!
Are you serious!? You already had a cup last week! No more of those gruesome calories for you, young lady!
B-But--! Oh you're right, evil body image conscience. Lets munch on a Special K bar instead. Only 90 calories!
Yeah, and 12% saturated fats! Can you imagine?!
So...I was also a health nut...
But it wasn't like I found fault with those who were a little more than average weight. In fact, I didn't see anything wrong with them.
Nope. I was the only one in the wrong. Me, me, me, moi, I, ME. I was body-obsessed-well, if it had to do with the weight factor.
I grasp exercise whenever I can-whether it be in the form of going up and down the stairs of my house, dancing in my room, or scootering in my backyard. (The Wii Fit was not an option for me, as it insulted me and was too boring for me.) I also got plenty of it from work, constantly moving around and doing something.
It felt great to me, just imagining shedding the calories and fats of the day behind me in an invisible trail. It was liberating.
But then when I literally craved for something to eat-my stomach would turn inside out in pain. It would cripple me if I skipped a meal or two, but I felt proud that I could stave off the pangs by drinking metabolism-enriching green tea.
Saltines are my best friend, (I can't eat celery-makes me gag)tea was my mother and gum was my father. Providing it be sugarless, of course.
But I didn't always follow this staple diet. I knew that if I did, my metabolism would slow to a crawl and make me...Well, the dreaded 'f' word. (Which could also mean ********, because that's what I would be as well.)
So I indulged at times, but also hated myself afterward.
The vicious cycle continues and continues. My therapist says my body image is all in my head-that I was distorting the view in the mirror.
But even then, it wasn't comforting that I was always a 130 lbs. I only hit 135 in the middle of my period, and that wasn't fun either. I would crave to see myself pencil-stick thin, to admire visible ribs and a totally flat stomach, but curse the genus of my dna! I had the muscles of both sides of my family, which I should be glad for but...I would have to literally starve myself like a refugee of a concentration camp to be the way I wanted to be. I knew it was sick and wrong to want to be sickly thin, but at least I'd have the comfort of knowing I wasn't...You know...Pudgy. Or something like that.
So I continue the vicious cycle, and even as I type this I chew my sugarless gum with a side of water.
For those who are confident with their bodies, I commend you greatly!
For those who aren't, I feel your pain.
It sucks to be this way, but I can't break the cycle. I don't write this to get any sympathy, but to just get it off of my chest, mind you. So I don't need to feel like its consuming my life...Is that a pun I detect?
