Let's just bear in mind the fact that I've never really lost that much weight. My BMI has never been under 15, and I cut no skeletal waif-like figure even then.
I just can't stand this weight gain business. I'm almost back to my previous normal weight, and it sucks. It's shit. I hate it.
Oh, yes, it has it's advantages. I'm capable of working, I can study, I can get out of bed in the morning, and I haven't had a black eye from fainting and smacking my face on the toilet bowl in recent months. I haven't cut since November, and I haven't purged since before Christmas. I have more energy, I am not suicidal and I have breasts again.
I'm not special. Before I had something, something I cherished and nurtured like the life-sucking little parasite it was, but still it was mine. My special thing. It defined a lot of what I did. Now, I'm lost without it.
I know that my disordered eating only really comes into play when I am unwell, so the recent weeks have reflected me being much better than I have been in a long time. I also know that messing around with my eating greatly increases my chances of a relapse into depression, as the two tend to strike together. I know all of these things are good signs, that I am getting more and more stable, and yet I WANT HIPBONES. I want bones. I want jutting bones and paper thin flesh and I want purity and all that is good and the effort of day to day living to show. I want to be special again.
If I put half the effort I have expended on disordered eating into something productive, I would be special by now, and yet that just makes me want to lose 25lbs even more?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment