I just want to feel good about myself again, is that too much to ask?
The last time I can remember not hating my body was two years ago, I wasn’t fat but I wasn’t skinny either. I vividly remembering going to the doctor for my annual checkup, my doctor weighed me and at this time I was 132 pounds, I’m 5‘6 so my weight range is 117-143. My doctor told me it “would be smart to cut the calories before I get chunkier”, I went home and cried. Up until that point I never had much of opinion on my body, I remember that day I just kept crying and wondering if all this time I had been oblivious to my large proportions and if everyone around me saw me as chunky too. That night I spent hours scrolling through Alexis Rens Instagram, jealous of her tiny waist and thigh gap. I vowed I would get skinny and look just like that, that was March of 2018 and by the end of summer I had gotten to 120. Losing weight was hard at first, my old eating habits were disgusting. Time progressed and my weight and self esteem dropped tremendously, towards the end of October I reached 114. It wasn’t enough, I was so disgusted with my appearance so I wore baggy clothes everyday and managed to hide my weight loss from my friends and family until December. December I reached 92 pounds, I felt amazing. I loved the way my formerly skin tight clothes fit loosely, the way my spin protruded from under my skin, how I could count my ribs with ease and my thigh gap. Most of all I loved the comments I got from people, I know how this sounds but the way people would comment on my tiny wrist or how small I was filled me with motivation. Nobody would ever think of me as the “chunky girl” again. I finally felt alright about myself and started wearing tighter clothing to show off my new figure, my mom noticed my figure and started cornering me on my excuses to skip dinner. I maintained this weight till February 2019 and then my mom put me in tons of therapy. I’ll admit from February to August I did feel better, I was back to 120 pounds but I tried not to think about it as much. August came around and some mutual friends made comments about how “healthy” I looked now, those comments upset me a little but I tried not to dwell on it. I think what pushed me over the edge was when I was cleaning my room and found a pair of old skinny jeans from last December, I couldn’t even get it above my thigh. All of a sudden every terrible thought about my body hit me again, the way my fat poured over itself when I sat down, how I didn’t look as good in bikinis as my naturally skinny friends, how my thighs touched when I walked. I was so disgusted that I let myself get to this weight and vowed to get skinny again. By October I was 110, I hit my lowest weight in December. I was 89 pounds, I felt so good. The familiar comments about my weight came back fueling me to keep going, my circle of friends noticed my relapse. One of my best friends talked to me about how he hadn’t seen me eat in a while and how he noticed I was returning to my former ways. I broke down to him and told him everything, eventually I told the rest of my tight friend group about my eating disorder. They supported me and it helped to have someone to tell but it wasn’t enough to get me to stop. January came around and I finally quit coke, I had formerly abused it for the appetite suppression, one of the withdrawal symptoms was excessive hunger. I couldn’t stop eating, I couldn’t find the motivation to workout like I had used to either. Two weeks ago I weighed myself and the scale read 120 pounds, I snapped and started falling back into my old habits. I’m back to running 3 miles every night, doing 20 mins of core workouts and consuming 250 calories. These past two weeks have been so difficult, I’ve pushed my body harder than ever before and now am 106 pounds. This feels like a never ending cycle I just want to feel better about myself.*
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