The mind of a teenage fuck up

Ana and Mia

I grew up in an environment that revolved around food, and healthy eating. By the age of six I already knew what a calorie was, not the scientific definition, "the amount of energy stored in food" but my mothers definition "little devils that make you fat". My mother was raised in the south, where there were fried and fatty foods galore. Almost every member of my extended family is over weight to some extent. She was determined for her family to not have the same fate. She raised me and my sisters on an organic, no red meat diet. We couldn't eat sweets or white bread or junk food of any sort. As soon as I could walk I was enrolled in every sport imaginable, t-ball, gymnastics, ballet, karate, cheerleading, and swimming. Anything that got me up, moving, and burning off my "belly". I never really thought I was over weight, and from what I can remember I wasn't, I was always tiny. I was born prematurely, a mere 4 pounds at birth, and never really caught up size wise with everyone else. I was always the smallest kid in my class, but always wanted to prove myself and keep up with everyone during sports. I had to be the fastest runner or swimmer, the highest jumper, strongest tumbler. I never really cared about my weight, I knew I was eating right and I wasn't fat so I didn't care. It wasn't until one day in 7th grade, I remember the moment as if it happened yesterday. I was out shopping with my mom, she grabbed me a pair of size eight pants ( we were in the kids department so sizes were different, they pair sizes with ages so a typical eight year old would wear a size eight, and a ten year old would wear a ten, and so on) she threw them to me and they were too small, so I asked her to get me the next size up, she threw me the pants and mumbled under her breath "someone's getting fat". It was kinda crazy when I look back on it now, because I was in no ways fat I was a 12 year old wearing pants made for a 10 year old, but it set me off. When I relayed the story to my therapist she said that due to my anxiety issues and the environment I grew up in I was "predisposed to get an eating disorder" so I guess she was right. From that moment on I was very self conscious about my weight, watching what I ate calories in vs calories out, that sort of thing, I was still pretty healthy at that point though eating a good amount of calories, not over exercising I was a t a good place. It wasn't until freshman year that I started spiraling out of control. Jealous girls making stupid comments about my weight, kinda broke me. I stopped eating, taking in maybe 100 calories a day, and exercised until I felt like I was gonna pass out. I was loosing weight and felt pretty good, Ana was whispering her sweet promises into my ear and all was well. Then my weight started to plateau, I stopped loosing and stayed at 95 lbs. No matter what I tried I couldn't loose any more weight. I got really depressed and started binging and purging, my weight fluctuated for a while after that, I reached a peak of 102, but then started being able to loose again. I got down into scary levels, like the 80s and 70 regions. I could barely walk and stopped having my period. I felt like I was going to pass out constantly. My boyfriend started to catch on and one day confronted me about it. I told him everything, the binging, the purging, the restrictions. He swore that he would help me get better and under his watchful eye I started gaining weight, once I got to around 97 he eased up a bit and stopped watching me so closely. He thought I was better, but he was so wrong. Every bite I took still felt like torture and the number on the scale had complete control over me. I couldn't let him know that though. He thought I was better and I didn't want him to worry. The worst part was he thought it was all his fault. Around that time he was arrested and thought that's what triggered me into the downward spiral I was in. So I lied to him, everyday I'd make up fake meals that I ate, and when we went on dates I'd smile and eat a good amount of food, all while puking it up after wards. A part of me felt terrible for lying to him, but the bigger part of me, the part controlled by Ana and the desire to be thin, overpowered it. I had become something not human, lies rolled so easily off my tongue that I had convinced even myself that I was fine and healthy. Every morning I'd slap on a fake smile and go through the day. All while slowly dying on the inside. I could give this chapter a happy ending. I could say that I over came Ana and got healthy, and now live a happy healthy life. I could, but that would be a huge lie. I'm still dealing with Ana, she controls my every thought and action. I restrict myself to 200 calories a day, and over exercise to burn everything off. I fast for long periods of time, and am steadily loosing weight still. I'm more careful about it though, no one knows a thing. Everyone is so blissfully ignorant to the situation, and all think that I'm perfect little Lindsay. The pretty, peppy, blonde cheerleader without a care in the world. And I'm fine with them believing that, it makes it easier for me. When everyone thinks you're perfect it's easier to get away with all the lies like "I already ate". As long as the movies good no one cares about what's going on behind the scenes.