Growing up.

I remembered about this book I used to have when I was younger- 7 or 8 in fact. Instead of making me uncomfortable, my Mother decided to buy a ‘facts of life’ book, and put it in my room. I vividly remember the section about body shape and puberty, with a couple of sentences about eating disorders. 11 years later and I can still recall that i was located on the bottom left of a right hand page, and it showed a picture of a girl looking in the mirror: “some girls don’t want a woman’s body and restrict food. Anorexia is an eating disorder when young girls try to stop the physical effects of growing up.”

I was scared of my body changing, despite the fact it didn’t really change shape much until I was about 15/16.. I mean I was 16 before my first period! But in my head, my body was changing too fast. Age 12 came, I wasn’t ready to be a teenager. Did I look like one? Were my hips big? Photo evidence of that time tells me that I wasn’t, yet I was very fearful about getting bigger.

That being said, I suppose growing up in general always seemed a little bit daunting, and I’ve noticed that my eating disorder is very childlike. I have a different tone in my voice when I talk about it, the way I hear it in my head is very direct- no formed arguments or justified conclusions, just a “do this” or “you don’t need a reason to listen”, it makes me defiant and unable to see other people’s views about it, and it does make me more dependent on others. While I have my disorder, I still need my Mum (despite the fact it causes stress, worry and conflict for both of us, it does also unite us). That last point is ludicrous, because I would have a perfectly lovely relationship with her without it; in fact, it would be better than it is now. But the ed only sees what is there right now- like a child does.

In terms of my mentality, I guess I don’t want to grow up in some ways, but I have always hated having people do things for me, and enjoyed taking control and ownership of my work. Thing is, I don’t want to accept life as a normal “woman.” To me that means being curvy and average and having a mundane life. Again, that is black and white thinking, as I actually know adults myself that do jobs they love, are fit and look good, and have friends and a good social life, but still…. I don’t want to be an average woman’s size.

 

 

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Pear, hourglass, apple, rectangle… anything seems to fat for me.

I know a couple of people who are VERY pear shaped, and even with no fat on them they still look it. I worry constantly about being pear shaped.

I took some tests on the internet and mostly come out as hourglass or rectangle. But still… one of them said pear. PANIC!

While I am standing here, typing and walking on the spot (to use up more energy), I am beginning to wonder what is the point in all of this?! I never seem to see myself as others do, and lying under the covers crying with disgust about my body just sucks… Especially, as I have mentioned before, it always leaves me feeling I have no clue what I look like at all; instead, my brain is overloaded with thoughts about feelings of being skinnier yesterday, or how much fat there is on my body to grab today. 

I get so confused and anxious that I just want to stop everything, to press a pause button on the world, to stay in until I look and feel good enough to go out. Everything becomes an effort when you fear that you will never be perfect enough.

Over time, the ups and downs balance themselves out & I end up feeling… well… numb, fat and uncertain.