I have never been diagnosed with body dysmorphia. That is because I have never been to a doctor for it. But you don’t need a doctor to tell you you hate your body. I’ve known it since I was about 7 or 8 years old. That was when I started my first diet. Barely going through puberty, and I am already dieting. I wanted to be thin. I didn’t want to be known as the chubby or fat girl. A lot of girls called me fat in elementary school, but in middle school there were all different sizes of girls and I was then considered “normal”. But what is “normal”. Is it my perception of normal or theirs? I always thought I wanted to lose weight for other people. Through my bulimic and anorexic experiences, however, I was proven wrong. I got to the point where everyone else says I am too thin and that I should gain weight. But for once in my life, I like my body, or at least better than I used to. After all of the accusations and concerns I have learned it was all for me. It was all for my fucked up perception of what I should be and what I want to be. I have changed that into what I NEED to be. I have been at both ends of the spectrums: being called fat and being accused of an eating disorder. Before I could never believe that the latter would be worse. Honestly, I feel like people liked me more when I was thicker. But I don’t care. Because I hated myself then. I lost the weight for me and no one else. This is why I refuse to listen to anybody else.

                However, something the other day in me snapped. I honestly have no idea where it came from. It was sparked by a photograph of an anorexic girl with organ failure I just randomly crossed on the internet. I started freaking out. Because at that point I wanted to lose even more weight. I loved being underweight. I loved not having a period every month. I loved fitting into things most girls have never fit into. When I went to a store and they didn’t make a size small enough for me; it actually made my day. In some stores, I even wear a size zero. AND I LOVED THAT! But that all changed. Seeing the picture of the anorexic girl made me remember that you don’t end up like that over night.

Looking back on what has happened over the last year and my current contemplations, I realized that this is only the beginning. That could be me in a year. I have become so addicted to weight loss, to diuretics, numbers, measurements, and sizes. I weigh myself twice a day. I constantly check out my figure and feel my waist throughout the day. Diuretics are the drugs that help me deal with everything. I drink coffee and green tea throughout the entire day to keep me debloated and to suppress my appetite. “Its full of rules,” Sexton wrote. My life is filled with rules as well. I don’t eat after five. I eat very small portions. I must workout at least 2 hours a day. I have to drink coffee, green tea, and water constantly. I don’t eat fried food. I don’t eat fast food. I don’t eat junk food. I don’t drink anything with calories. I eat mostly organic. I eat very small portions spread out throughout the day. I don’t think about it anymore. It’s natural. It flows. This is just who I am now.

Losing weight is so easy now. I struggled with it for years, and I never got anywhere. I don’t know what happened. Like I said, I never lost weight from purging, and the first bit of weightloss was truly just from eating healthy and exercising. The rest of the weight is debatable; I still haven’t decided for myself if it was “healthy”. I no longer have strong cravings or desires for food. I have trained myself like a dog. So many rules, but they don’t feel like rules anymore. It’s just my lifestyle. And I enjoy it. No fried food, no junk food, no fast food, no soda, no SO MANY FOODS! But I don’t crave them anymore. They say yoga and other physical activities (but mainly yoga) make you want healthier foods. But is eating too healthy unhealthy?

“It’s a kind of war where I plant bombs inside of myself.” Can I say that about me? Am I constantly at war with myself? I think I’m blinded from this internal war with my drug, my weight loss. As long as I get rewarded with being slim I don’t care what I eat. I am addicted to weight loss. It is the drug that numbs me from feeling hunger or distress.

One day I stepped on the scale from not weighing myself for a couple days. I went from 108 lbs to 103 lbs, in like 4 days. In my defense, I was sick and had a fever so I usually lose weight, but I have no clue how that happened. I ate a ton of halloween candy and some cake! Officially underweight. My arms and torso have gotten grossly thin, and yet my stomach still bothers me. I am never going to be what I want. I am built wide. I am built to be thick. But I am trying to force my body into a shape that is impossible. I cannot change my bone structure. I cannot make myself taller or narrower. There are many girls I know who are “smaller” than me, but I weigh way less and have way less body fat than them. I have like 16% body fat, and most of them have like 25% and yet I several inches bigger than them. And yet I will never fit into a size zero of most designers. And yet I will never have a 23” waist. And yet I will never by above 5’4. And yet I will never be what I want myself to be. So why don’t I let it go. Just let it be, Catherine.

It is the innocence of perception that I have lost. I will never see myself through a mirror the way I truly am, but rather comparing to an unrealistic nonexistant perception of perfection.

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