I wanted to scream at the image being portrayed before me, the way my hips curved out, the way one shoulder seemed to be too superior to lay evenly with its match, and how my belly seemed to be protruding out far passed its limits. The monstrosity I saw was my own body being shot back at me by a mirror. I slid my hands to their rightful position on my waist and winched, I wasn't small enough. Even though my size zero jeans and shorts slid off of me, what I continued to see in that mirror was nothing but an overweight, worthless girl. So began the new me, the one who wanted, no HAD, to be tiny.
My diet changed and what was my meal of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, pretzels, and pudding became nothing but a simple bottle of water. My best friend was my dependable companion, a single black hair tie. Every time I craved food, a swift pull and let go of it led to me no longer desiring what I so gravely needed. Soon enough, my body weakened and began giving out pleas for food with the tell-tale signs of unbearable cramps, even though that led me to an ER visit, I still refused to consume anything that made my body more grotesque than what it already was.
After a few months, I had fallen in love and with every snap of a hair tie, he was quick to collect them. My diet returned to what I suppose is "normal" and I gained a few pounds back. Upon return to my doctor, I got news that if I lost 2 more pounds I would be considered,which at this point was dangerous, malnourished. With those words, I was determined to get better. However, my life took a turn for the worst and I lost the boy I was striving to get better for, and just as quick as I had decided to get better, I changed my mind and became worse. I was informed that if I did reach this "malnourishment" that I would have to be hospitalized and be fed with an IV.
Changing isn't easy for me, and I won't get better until I've hit that critical moment. The one where I've passed out from not eating, that's when I'll know I have gone too far.
