I often find myself looking in the mirror, as most girls my age do. I look at my thighs that touch. I see how they wobble as I walk. I look at my round stomach, almost endearing in the most sickening way. I see the parts of me I hate, and wish someone would come along with a scissors and chop them off, sling them into a trash can over their shoulder and have that be that. At the same time, I feel my shoulder blades poking into the back of my shirt. I can stick my fingers under my ribs if I try hard enough. I feel my pelvis clinging to my skin. I don't understand how my body can work like this. I don't understand how I can fluctuate so intensely within one form.
I know I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I find myself binge eating repeatedly, simply to get the food out of the house. Once I know something is there, I can't stop thinking about it, picturing the flavours melting onto my tongue, my teeth sinking into the textures, washing it all down with enough water to bring it all back up again. But when I end the war against myself and try the food, I find it turns to dust in my mouth. I long for the flavours I used to taste. I almost get mad at the food for disappointing me so much. How could it let me down like this? All I wanted was to enjoy it, but instead I'm left disappointed, wondering how many calories I've just consumed, almost able to feel the fat building up along my waist line.
I've expressed my concerns before. I fear I'm developing an unhealthy relationship with food. I fear the girl I see in the mirror. I wonder if she lies to me, not fully letting on who she truly is. People always tell me in almost hushed tones when I've lost weight, as if it's scandalous. I wonder did they speak of my weight before. Talking about my thighs touching. My fondness of loose jumpers and long sleeves. Why do I feel so proud when people say this? But when people say it, I can't help but want more. I want to lose more weight. I want to look like the girls I see on social media. I want my legs to be long and slim. I want my arms to be little more than bones. I want to feel my skin sliding across my bones. I want my spine to stick out on my back. I long for the day someone puts their hand on me and feels shocked to feel my bones.
Why is this happening to me? Why can't I be happy with the body I have? How long will I be dieting for? Will I spend the rest of my life counting calories in food that has no taste? Will I keep exercising until I vomit? Will there ever be a day where I can sit with my family and eat dinner and not feel the need to push food around my plate, and offer my siblings their favourite parts?
All I want in life is to be healthy and happy, but it seems that these can't occur at the same time, not now any way
I know I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I find myself binge eating repeatedly, simply to get the food out of the house. Once I know something is there, I can't stop thinking about it, picturing the flavours melting onto my tongue, my teeth sinking into the textures, washing it all down with enough water to bring it all back up again. But when I end the war against myself and try the food, I find it turns to dust in my mouth. I long for the flavours I used to taste. I almost get mad at the food for disappointing me so much. How could it let me down like this? All I wanted was to enjoy it, but instead I'm left disappointed, wondering how many calories I've just consumed, almost able to feel the fat building up along my waist line.
I've expressed my concerns before. I fear I'm developing an unhealthy relationship with food. I fear the girl I see in the mirror. I wonder if she lies to me, not fully letting on who she truly is. People always tell me in almost hushed tones when I've lost weight, as if it's scandalous. I wonder did they speak of my weight before. Talking about my thighs touching. My fondness of loose jumpers and long sleeves. Why do I feel so proud when people say this? But when people say it, I can't help but want more. I want to lose more weight. I want to look like the girls I see on social media. I want my legs to be long and slim. I want my arms to be little more than bones. I want to feel my skin sliding across my bones. I want my spine to stick out on my back. I long for the day someone puts their hand on me and feels shocked to feel my bones.
Why is this happening to me? Why can't I be happy with the body I have? How long will I be dieting for? Will I spend the rest of my life counting calories in food that has no taste? Will I keep exercising until I vomit? Will there ever be a day where I can sit with my family and eat dinner and not feel the need to push food around my plate, and offer my siblings their favourite parts?
All I want in life is to be healthy and happy, but it seems that these can't occur at the same time, not now any way
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