(no subject)
from xxlilyxx...
Body image is something that I know far too much about, being a "recovering" anorexic. I began anorexia in November 1997 and have struggled with body image since. I can't blame the media or my peers or my parents or any of the other regular scapegoats for my descent into anoreixa or the beginning of my poor body image. I am not entirely sure what started it all, to be honest. What I do know, though, is that I used to eat everything I wanted and didn't care. I used to like how I looked and in fact was a bit arrogant about how I looked. Until things began to change in 1997.
Originally when I began my descent into anorexia it was all about the control. I could control my portions, could control what I weighed eventually... It followed then from there that I began to notice imperfections in my body. The extra inches of flesh, the untoned arms and legs, et cetera, began to appear to me in the mirror where before I saw a perfectly fine body. It is only then that I began to notice the ads screaming at consumers "lose weight fast!", "get a fab body in just four weeks!", "be thinner in a month!".
It is when I noticed the imperfections in my body that I began to really pay attention to how thin the models in my magazines were and what a distinct difference in my body compared to the models' there was. This was about the time that the waif image was popular. Kate Moss became my image of the ideal body. I put her picture on the door, beside the full length mirror, carried her pictures around with me to remind myself of how much harder I needed to work to become 'perfect', et cetera.
I got to the point where I was exercising for hours at a time without a break, til I was in tears and then some. When the school fitness center was not open then I turned to walking miles or using laxatives, and trying to vomit. In the midst of all of this I had reduced my calorie intake to less then 150 calories some days. I had stopped drinking period, not even water. All for the goal of getting the perfect body. The problem was the more weight I lost, the tinier my arms and legs became, and the more bones that appeared, the more I hated how I looked and even worse hated myself.
By the time that anyone forced me to visit an eating disorders clinic I was 5'10" and 123 lbs. Granted, I now am 5'10" and less than that on average, I now eat and do not exercise at all. I have yet to find e.d. treatment that has really helped me, but have done much work on my own.
It has never been of help to me to have friends and family lecture me, force me to eat, or otherwise barrage me about my eating and exercise habits. It has, I admit, been difficult sometimes to look at other very thin individuals and not want to be them, not want to return to starvation and over-exercising. The ideal image of beauty in society's eyes now has gotten so ingrained in me that I notice a model, including Kate Moss, has gained even healthy weight and I think them to be getting fat, I find them disgusting, and hate the thought of them in the magazine sometimes even.
The ideal body image to me? Still Kate Moss at her waif stage. I cannot get that out of my head. It is with me all the time. I now think that the more bones I can see on my body the better and the less bones the more fat I have become. It is now in my head that to weigh anything over 120 is "fat" for me (and me alone). To weigh the so-called regular weight for my height would result in a suicidal Lily, I am afraid to admit. I am not sure I will ever get past that, to be honest, and am not sure I will care to anyway. The ideal body image is not something that I necessarily impose on others, having had crushes on girls that were other shapes and sizes entirely and being totally physically attracted to them, but it is something that I think about upon first impression to some small degree. Ultimately, though, it is simply the harsh measure by which I judge myself.
And all of the above is what I think about, feel regarding, and deal with where body image is concerned. Everyday, every moment, every second.
Body image is something that I know far too much about, being a "recovering" anorexic. I began anorexia in November 1997 and have struggled with body image since. I can't blame the media or my peers or my parents or any of the other regular scapegoats for my descent into anoreixa or the beginning of my poor body image. I am not entirely sure what started it all, to be honest. What I do know, though, is that I used to eat everything I wanted and didn't care. I used to like how I looked and in fact was a bit arrogant about how I looked. Until things began to change in 1997.
Originally when I began my descent into anorexia it was all about the control. I could control my portions, could control what I weighed eventually... It followed then from there that I began to notice imperfections in my body. The extra inches of flesh, the untoned arms and legs, et cetera, began to appear to me in the mirror where before I saw a perfectly fine body. It is only then that I began to notice the ads screaming at consumers "lose weight fast!", "get a fab body in just four weeks!", "be thinner in a month!".
It is when I noticed the imperfections in my body that I began to really pay attention to how thin the models in my magazines were and what a distinct difference in my body compared to the models' there was. This was about the time that the waif image was popular. Kate Moss became my image of the ideal body. I put her picture on the door, beside the full length mirror, carried her pictures around with me to remind myself of how much harder I needed to work to become 'perfect', et cetera.
I got to the point where I was exercising for hours at a time without a break, til I was in tears and then some. When the school fitness center was not open then I turned to walking miles or using laxatives, and trying to vomit. In the midst of all of this I had reduced my calorie intake to less then 150 calories some days. I had stopped drinking period, not even water. All for the goal of getting the perfect body. The problem was the more weight I lost, the tinier my arms and legs became, and the more bones that appeared, the more I hated how I looked and even worse hated myself.
By the time that anyone forced me to visit an eating disorders clinic I was 5'10" and 123 lbs. Granted, I now am 5'10" and less than that on average, I now eat and do not exercise at all. I have yet to find e.d. treatment that has really helped me, but have done much work on my own.
It has never been of help to me to have friends and family lecture me, force me to eat, or otherwise barrage me about my eating and exercise habits. It has, I admit, been difficult sometimes to look at other very thin individuals and not want to be them, not want to return to starvation and over-exercising. The ideal image of beauty in society's eyes now has gotten so ingrained in me that I notice a model, including Kate Moss, has gained even healthy weight and I think them to be getting fat, I find them disgusting, and hate the thought of them in the magazine sometimes even.
The ideal body image to me? Still Kate Moss at her waif stage. I cannot get that out of my head. It is with me all the time. I now think that the more bones I can see on my body the better and the less bones the more fat I have become. It is now in my head that to weigh anything over 120 is "fat" for me (and me alone). To weigh the so-called regular weight for my height would result in a suicidal Lily, I am afraid to admit. I am not sure I will ever get past that, to be honest, and am not sure I will care to anyway. The ideal body image is not something that I necessarily impose on others, having had crushes on girls that were other shapes and sizes entirely and being totally physically attracted to them, but it is something that I think about upon first impression to some small degree. Ultimately, though, it is simply the harsh measure by which I judge myself.
And all of the above is what I think about, feel regarding, and deal with where body image is concerned. Everyday, every moment, every second.