I was always a naturally thin child. But I remember becoming aware of people’s weight at a very young age, and then turning it inward and seeing my own weight. The problem was, I saw my own weight as much heavier than it really was. I saw my body as something hideous and disgusting. A few well-intended, but thoughtless comments made by my relatives- around the age I hit puberty, and I ended up with a full-blown eating disorder.
I remember thinking of myself as “fat” about the time I began developing a more womanly shape, when I started developing “curves” and around the time I started really noticing boys. I was ten or eleven. I didn’t completely come to this way of thinking by myself. I remember relatives and friends of my parents making comments about me getting “chubby”; about how if I were to ever “get fat” that my bottom would be the size of a “caboose”. Mind you, at the time, I was still very thin and was naturally that way! I hadn’t gained any “extra” weight and didn’t look overweight at all! Those thoughtless comments and overly critical “observations” threw me into a tailspin. So, at the very young age of eleven, I started my first “diet”. I truly don’t know which is worse- the fact that I began that diet at such a young age, or the fact that my parents didn’t notice that I had started obsessing about food and what I ate.
My mother always had a weight problem whenever I was growing up, and so I found a plethora of dieting books in our home book-cases, and found plenty more to cause me to worry and obsess about my weight! It didn’t help that if my weight *did* fluctuate a few pounds or so (especially during “that” time of the month!), my parents noticed and would say something. It would be many years before I would finally admit to them that I had struggled with an eating disorder!
By the time I was thirteen- I was skipping meals, getting out of bed in the middle of the night to weigh myself or obsessively exercise, checking out dieting books from the library, and also constantly worrying about my weight. I would refuse to eat cake at someone’s birthday party, because I didn’t know how long it would take to burn the calories back off. I drank nothing but water and tea with artificial sweetner, refusing to drink anything that might add any calories to my diet!
By the time I was fifteen- a junior in high-school- I was skipping all meals except dinner, and picking at dinner, telling my parents I had eaten at school earlier in the day. I would save the lunch money my parents would give me for diet pills. I started taking diet pills, exercising for three hours out of the day, refusing to eat anything that I hadn’t prepared myself, and would make myself throw up after eating something that I felt had been “un-necessary” calories.
Still, my parents didn’t notice. They were proud of their “thin, active” daughter, and never noticed- due to their own issues in their relationship and themselves- that I was dangerously underweight and that I was slowly wasting away. I was hospitalized at the age of sixteen for depression and alcohol abuse, and it was then that I was diagnosed with Anorexic and Bulimic “Tendencies. My parents refused to believe there was anything “that” wrong with anything I had been doing, so my eating disorder continued to go un-noticed and un-treated.
It wasn’t until I was seventeen, married for the first time- after graduating highschool at sixteen- and wanting a baby, that I realized that I would have to change my eating habits and “get better” or I would never be able to successfully have a child. Over the course of six months, I slowly increased my caloric intake and my food intake. I gained a little weight, and got back up to 86 lbs, and then got pregnant with my oldest child.
I sucessfully carried my pregnancy, and have had five more children since then. With my two divorces, I relapsed briefly- Making myself throw-up, skipping meals, exercising compulsively, etc. I have made huge steps in my recovery since then. Since my husband and I met five years ago, I have not made myself throw-up, I haven’t exercised compulsively, and if I find myself a few pounds over-weight, I don’t “diet”- I change my eating habits and eat a nutritionally and calorically balanced diet.
I no longer “punish” myself for drinking a soda- if anything, I drink *too much* soda these days. I don’t obsess about how long it will take me to burn off the calories if I take a bite of cake or eat a bag of chips. I exercise daily, but not to the point of obsession or “over-doing” it, and I only step on my bath scales three times a week, rather than three times a day!
I have made great progress over the last eight or nine years, and yet, I know that deep within, my eating disorders will never be gone. I am always one step ahead of relapsing into madness and obsession about my weight. I have to go shopping without looking at sizes, and just go by looking at something as to whether it will fit or not. I no longer discuss dieting or weight loss with my mother or other female relatives, and I don’t discuss my eating or exercise habits with anyone unless they are aware of my eating disorder- this helps keep me “sane.
My family still refuses to see that I ever had an eating disorder at all, they still call my eating disorder “the time you played anorexic”, and they are still overly critical of my weight and how I look. I just have to make an effort to ignore them and try to remember that they truly just don’t “get it.”
Each day is a constant struggle within- a struggle with myself, my weight, how I look- I struggle daily when trying to decide what, when or how much to eat. I can’t look at a box of cookies without feeling the urge to “binge and purge”, even though I know that my eating disorder is dangerous, and that the next relapse could very well be my last.
I am very blessed to have a wonderful husband who accepts me at whatever weight I am at, children who say “Mommy, you’re beautiful” even when I think I look awful, and my husband- who is also aware of my eating disorders- has been a wonderful help with keeping me from relapsing, he is aware of what behaviors and habits to watch for, he helps me by letting me talk through my feelings… Sometimes, he even reminds me to eat.
I know I will never be truly “well”, and that I will struggle with Anorexia and Bulimia for the rest of my life- knowing that I can survive and knowing that I can beat it, is what keeps me safe from the darkness which I could so easily find myself within. It’s a daily struggle, and, one day at a time, I’m winning.
