I don’t know why in particular today, but I wish I was able to eat bread and ham, salty chips, pizza and pastries. I guess I’m tired, and calorie deprived… but still, the cravings have been pretty overwhelming today.
Part of me feels strong at denying them, but I also just want to cry.
“I’m hungry, I’m not thin enough to allow myself extra food, my body will always be horrible, my body shape is stupid, I should die if my body won’t become how I want it, I’m tired, I’m tearful, my head hurts my ears ache, I must do exercises, food, stress, meal planning, restriction, weight….” That is my head today.
Whenever I meet somebody in the street, watch tv, or basically see anybody at all, I always analyse their body and work out which shape they are (pear, hourglass, apple etc) Body shapes have become another obsession for me. Annoyingly though, my ed makes it tough for me to figure out which one I am myself! In physical measurements my shoulders and hips are virtually the same- making me hourglass or ruler, but some days my thighs or bum seem massive, or my stomach seems to stick out, or my arms big…. the list of inadequacies is endless and variable (depending on the day of the week!)
No amount of research can change the fact that I will probably never be able to view my body without the negative, emotional ed voice kicking in. Besides, the ideal in the modern world doesn’t really fall into any category unless the word “thin” is placed before it. Most models have smaller measurements than some of the average weight people who are under 5″ that I know!
I recently looked back at some photos from a while back that made me cry and have a panic attack at the time, but despite my ed still being absolutely present, they weren’t how I remembered them. I was smaller than I thought- not thin enough (but what is ever enough!?), but not at all the fat, gross person I saw when I looked at them when they were taken.
It is things like this which remind me just how damaging and taunting having an eating disorder can be, especially as in spite of this realisation about those photos, I would almost certainly react in the same emotional, disordered way if I was photographed right now. Why the hell do I hold on to this dumb voice in my head then?