Untitled.

whew it’s my first entry, but I’d like to get real with you. I’m an American girl, living in a materialistic world.  My school is in one of the highest ranked counties in the country.  My family is putting pressure on me to be this perfect version of myself.  Me? I have an eating disorder.  I never wanted to recognize it.  I always thought your had to be skinny or bony to have an eating disorder.  Now I’m not skinny, but I’m not fat either. I’m somewhere in between.  Not thin, but not thick.  Ever since I put on some weight last year, I’ve been anxious to get it off. The final straw came when my homecoming dress came today.  It was a medium. It didn’t fit. Now I’m transfixed. I have to lose the weight. It’s like there’s a second voice in my head, telling me I’m not pretty when I weight more, boys and girls will never like me, I’m not worth anything.  And it occupies my thoughts. At school, when I’m copying down my physics notes, I think to myself “I wonder if the girl next to me thinks my legs look fat.”  When I’m talking to my friends I tug my shirt over me more, covering up anything remotely visible.  I stare at myself in the mirror some days, wishing my roll away, but some days I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.  Some days I avoid mirrors all together.  I work out. A lot.  I make myself do at least 300 crunches before I sleep.  Sometimes I do planks too. I binge eat.  One day I’ll be good, and eat little and healthy, and some days I’ll get too hungry and lightheaded and give in.  And then feel guilty and do it all over again.  Sometimes I wonder if anyone will ever love me when I look like this, if I can even get a guy while looking like this, behaving like this.  And even though I recognize there’s a problem, I can’t reach out.  I’m stuck in a constant rollercoaster without being able to undo my buckle and get off.  I’m not in danger of anything, I’m technically a healthy weight. But a healthy weight doesn’t look the same through the lenses I wear.