Starting Now!
Name: Kristen
Age: 16
Height: 5’4”
Weight: 141.0lbs
Goal: 105.0lbs
My name is Kristen and I am a bit shy, temperamental at times, but friends with everyone. I have been told that I’m too nice to ever say anything mean to anyone. My friends call me the innocent, sweet one. But, I have a secret. I am an anorexic and ultimately striving for this little thing called perfection. I’ve only been doing this seriously for about 12 days, but I’ve been alone. I am a writer and I figured that blogging would b a good idea. Btw if u r recovering, don’t read this, I guarantee u it will trigger you. If you are trying to recover, then I fully support you. You are stronger than the rest of us r. Keep up the progress:]
The Journey
Day 12
(If this first part seems weird, don't worry about it. I was feeling poetic today. The rest aren’t this weird.)
I don't remember the first time that I looked in the mirror and saw a fat blob. I don't know when my body started spiraling out of control. I suppose the blame falls to me. I couldn't control my own body. I couldn't control my mouth. For years, I shoveled food in with little regard to how it might cling to my hips, stomach, thighs… Now, I can’t stop obsessing over the numbers.
NUMBERS.
141.0
140.8 1
138.7
137.4
136.6
140.0
Numbers are everything now. Control is my friend, my needs are my enemy. The scale is my friend when he shows me that the numbers are decreasing, but when the numbers go up, I hate him. He tells me it’s my fault. I say I know. Restrict. Restrict. Restrict. Start over. Control. You are the boss. You don't need it. You never needed it. Think. Hunger works. When the numbers go up when I think I’ve finally done something right, I want to give up, but I can’t. I can't see the numbers. I can’t bear the sight of the rolls of fat that are too stubborn to do what I tell them to do. They can only be removed by force…
My body is playing tricks on me again. This morning, I weighed 136.6 but now, the scale said I weigh 140.0. One hundred and forty pounds. I ate less today than I did yesterday. How did it happen? What did I do wrong? I’m gaining water weight, and I try to blame it on TOM, but every time I look in the mirror, I can’t bear the sight. What if it doesn't go away? How do I make it go away? How do I keep my mom from forcing me to shovel food down my throat?
I’m comfortable and strong and confident when my stomach is tight and hollow. When I’m full, I worry. Bread is my worst enemy. It sits out on the counter inviting me to take a bite, just one bite. If I take one bite, I’ll take a thousand bites, so I don't take any at all. My mom asks me if I ate. I say yes. She wants to know what I ate. I tell her I ate a salad and bread. She doesn't believe me. She tells me to eat more. I took one muffin. She watched me eat it all. She’s finally happy. I’m dying inside. I was doing so well… I run outside, behind the shed and shove a finger down my throat. Nothing comes out. I’m shaking because I absolutely hate puking. I can’t do it. WEAK, YOU’RE WEAK! JUST DO IT! WHY CAN’T YOU DO IT? I finally give up. I go back inside, ready to cry. Tomorrow I will do better. Tomorrow I will eat only a salad (15cals) for lunch and for dinner. (Total= 30cals) I drink water but it’s no use. The damage has been done. I munch on celery because it will burn calories, but I can’t chew it. I lay down to do sit ups, but I am too depressed to pull my body up. I have to stop being weak. It is day… 12. HELP.
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