Still haunted by the past...
Not quite ten years ago I hated my body so much I basically starved myself.
I never once considered myself fat prior to then, and no one else did, either. The only thing that possibly told me I was living an unhealthy lifestyle was the fact that at age 11, I had my first blood work done and the results indicated I had high cholesterol. Yes, an 11-year-old with high cholesterol. My physician suggested that it was due to a lack of exercise. I can't remember when I next had blood work done, but I do know that in subsequent tests, everything - even the cholesterol - has tested normal.
As I look back during that time, I was certainly a little pudgy, but I don't believe I was obese. I don't have waist measurements of that time, so it's hard to say for sure, but I do remember gaining a good 20 pounds in the 4th grade alone, and had broken 100 pounds by the time I was in 5th (certainly pushing overweight for someone who was not even 5 feet tall yet). I was a little active during this time, as I participated in gymnastics, but my poor snacking habits (you know, Chee-tos and the like) certainly made the situation a whole lot worse. I grew bored of gymnastics and quit after 5th grade, so the only physical activity I had in 6th was gym class. I longed to be in cheerleading by the time I got to 7th grade, so I decided to participate in my school's JV soccer team to help me to get in better shape (and to bring down my cholesterol, of course).
Oh, yeah, I was the one who couldn't run from the bench to the other side (where the fans stood) without feeling like I was gonna die. What the heck provoked me into actually trying to be a better athlete, I have no idea. Honestly, I figured I would quit soccer after a year or two. Not once did I think I would be a - rather notorious, I must say - star on the soccer field. But that's a whole 'nother novel.
But anyway, during my second season of cheerleading, I decided I needed to change. I had a gut, and if one didn't know any better, they might have thought I was 20 weeks pregnant. I was typically eating a decent-sized breakfast, a normal lunch, a snack consisting of either deep-fried "goodness" or sugar-loaded and frozen, a normal dinner with a second (sometimes even third) helping, and it was not unheard of for me to have eaten three desserts in one night (seriously). The desserts was one of the first things for me to catch, so I quickly eliminated at least the 2nd and 3rd, maybe even skipping the first altogether except for occasionally. I also eliminated the 2nd helping at dinner as well as breakfast. Lunch was also reduced as I typically only had a drink and ate half a sandwich, maybe munching on chips and/or a couple cookies.
I noticed my cheerleading skirt became too big after a couple of weeks, but I honestly didn't grow alarmed. I wasn't seeing any results otherwise. Granted, when you look at yourself in the mirror on a daily basis you don't notice a change unless it was overnight. I also do not have a scale at home, so I wasn't checking my weight. I did, however, notice that I was getting dry heaves in the morning. I would drink a glass of milk before school just to satisfy my stomach, but I would end up throwing that up.
My mom knew something was wrong. It was obvious to her that my new eating habits were taking their toll on me negatively. She tried to get me to eat, and even my dad eventually realized I had an eating problem as well.
What made me go back to eating? When the school nurse did her regular yearly exam. I weighed 122 pounds. I had lost ten pounds since the previous exam. Ten. Freaking. Pounds.
Was I satisfied? Oh yeah. I was very satisfied. I started to slowly reintroduce myself to a "regular" diet, and I continued playing soccer, but I was lazy during the off-season (I ended up not going out for cheerleading again after 8th grade), so I gained a little more weight during that time. I was also still finishing up puberty during that time, so my body filled out to a more womanly figure.
Particularly during my college years, I'd find myself starting to hear the anorexic in my head voice her opinions again. Typically, they are, "No, you've already had two, you don't need a third." These episodes usually only last one or two, maybe three, days, and, thankfully, they haven't pushed me back on the path to anorexia.
I still worry, though, that I will relapse again. I want to be a healthier, more active me, and my boyfriend Nathan has certainly been one of my biggest supporters. He and I go to the gym together whenever our schedules work out accordingly, and, making healthier food choices combined with my knack for experimenting (what can I say? I'm a molecular genetics major!), I like to cook up healthy (and at times random) meals for him. I've found that I've lost roughly two pounds within just a few weeks (with nearly two inches shed from my midsection and more muscular arms to boot!). As that was with exercising combined with making healthier eating choices, you'd think that'd be an inspiration, but it has only led to more worry about a potential relapse, especially since the anorexic has started voicing her opinions once again.
Nathan tells me I'm beautiful, and I believe him, but I'm still not completely satisfied with myself. I look in the mirror and see a bulge on my stomach, even if I know I have an athletic build and that having a slight bulge in the midsection is normal for a woman. I have noticed that I've gotten a little flatter in the stomach, and it almost looks like my body is trying to form a six-pack (seriously, the area right where the rib cage starts is rather flat and then there's a stretch mark, followed by the bulge).
This is why I'm scared of pregnancy. I know the weight gain from that is for a life completely separate from my own, and I worry for my future child's sake that I'll end up harming him/her simply because I was selfish and tried to maintain my physique rather than focusing on nourishing him/her. I really hope and pray that my own body issues are tossed aside when that day comes and I have an anorexia-complication-free pregnancy.
I never once considered myself fat prior to then, and no one else did, either. The only thing that possibly told me I was living an unhealthy lifestyle was the fact that at age 11, I had my first blood work done and the results indicated I had high cholesterol. Yes, an 11-year-old with high cholesterol. My physician suggested that it was due to a lack of exercise. I can't remember when I next had blood work done, but I do know that in subsequent tests, everything - even the cholesterol - has tested normal.
As I look back during that time, I was certainly a little pudgy, but I don't believe I was obese. I don't have waist measurements of that time, so it's hard to say for sure, but I do remember gaining a good 20 pounds in the 4th grade alone, and had broken 100 pounds by the time I was in 5th (certainly pushing overweight for someone who was not even 5 feet tall yet). I was a little active during this time, as I participated in gymnastics, but my poor snacking habits (you know, Chee-tos and the like) certainly made the situation a whole lot worse. I grew bored of gymnastics and quit after 5th grade, so the only physical activity I had in 6th was gym class. I longed to be in cheerleading by the time I got to 7th grade, so I decided to participate in my school's JV soccer team to help me to get in better shape (and to bring down my cholesterol, of course).
Oh, yeah, I was the one who couldn't run from the bench to the other side (where the fans stood) without feeling like I was gonna die. What the heck provoked me into actually trying to be a better athlete, I have no idea. Honestly, I figured I would quit soccer after a year or two. Not once did I think I would be a - rather notorious, I must say - star on the soccer field. But that's a whole 'nother novel.
But anyway, during my second season of cheerleading, I decided I needed to change. I had a gut, and if one didn't know any better, they might have thought I was 20 weeks pregnant. I was typically eating a decent-sized breakfast, a normal lunch, a snack consisting of either deep-fried "goodness" or sugar-loaded and frozen, a normal dinner with a second (sometimes even third) helping, and it was not unheard of for me to have eaten three desserts in one night (seriously). The desserts was one of the first things for me to catch, so I quickly eliminated at least the 2nd and 3rd, maybe even skipping the first altogether except for occasionally. I also eliminated the 2nd helping at dinner as well as breakfast. Lunch was also reduced as I typically only had a drink and ate half a sandwich, maybe munching on chips and/or a couple cookies.
I noticed my cheerleading skirt became too big after a couple of weeks, but I honestly didn't grow alarmed. I wasn't seeing any results otherwise. Granted, when you look at yourself in the mirror on a daily basis you don't notice a change unless it was overnight. I also do not have a scale at home, so I wasn't checking my weight. I did, however, notice that I was getting dry heaves in the morning. I would drink a glass of milk before school just to satisfy my stomach, but I would end up throwing that up.
My mom knew something was wrong. It was obvious to her that my new eating habits were taking their toll on me negatively. She tried to get me to eat, and even my dad eventually realized I had an eating problem as well.
What made me go back to eating? When the school nurse did her regular yearly exam. I weighed 122 pounds. I had lost ten pounds since the previous exam. Ten. Freaking. Pounds.
Was I satisfied? Oh yeah. I was very satisfied. I started to slowly reintroduce myself to a "regular" diet, and I continued playing soccer, but I was lazy during the off-season (I ended up not going out for cheerleading again after 8th grade), so I gained a little more weight during that time. I was also still finishing up puberty during that time, so my body filled out to a more womanly figure.
Particularly during my college years, I'd find myself starting to hear the anorexic in my head voice her opinions again. Typically, they are, "No, you've already had two, you don't need a third." These episodes usually only last one or two, maybe three, days, and, thankfully, they haven't pushed me back on the path to anorexia.
I still worry, though, that I will relapse again. I want to be a healthier, more active me, and my boyfriend Nathan has certainly been one of my biggest supporters. He and I go to the gym together whenever our schedules work out accordingly, and, making healthier food choices combined with my knack for experimenting (what can I say? I'm a molecular genetics major!), I like to cook up healthy (and at times random) meals for him. I've found that I've lost roughly two pounds within just a few weeks (with nearly two inches shed from my midsection and more muscular arms to boot!). As that was with exercising combined with making healthier eating choices, you'd think that'd be an inspiration, but it has only led to more worry about a potential relapse, especially since the anorexic has started voicing her opinions once again.
Nathan tells me I'm beautiful, and I believe him, but I'm still not completely satisfied with myself. I look in the mirror and see a bulge on my stomach, even if I know I have an athletic build and that having a slight bulge in the midsection is normal for a woman. I have noticed that I've gotten a little flatter in the stomach, and it almost looks like my body is trying to form a six-pack (seriously, the area right where the rib cage starts is rather flat and then there's a stretch mark, followed by the bulge).
This is why I'm scared of pregnancy. I know the weight gain from that is for a life completely separate from my own, and I worry for my future child's sake that I'll end up harming him/her simply because I was selfish and tried to maintain my physique rather than focusing on nourishing him/her. I really hope and pray that my own body issues are tossed aside when that day comes and I have an anorexia-complication-free pregnancy.