Tw: Mention of an ED and subsequent body image issues. As always, I've tried to approach this and any sensitive topics, with the utmost respect and care.
A request x 2. One of these was from a long time ago, but I feel it's super relevant because of recent events. 😔
Most days, it's not even on her radar. She can go through an entire 24 hours and be perfectly fine. There's no counting calories. Exercise is for strength and conditioning, not to fit into the sample size. She feels good about herself. Everything in moderation. Her body serves her well. An extra taco at lunch or an ice cream cone with a friend isn't something that frightens her. If she wants a glass of wine, she'll have one. Food is no longer the enemy. When she takes a glance in the mirror, she can appreciate the curves. It simply is not something that controls her life anymore. The freedom that comes with it, the freedom she found a few years ago, has been incredible.
Then there are those other days. The "scaries", she called them. Similar to the Sunday variety, but with no fear of an impending Monday. Those days were harder because she wanted to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers until the whispers let up...the ones that let her know that she was an ogre compared to other girls, all of whom had flatter stomachs than she did, whose thighs were thinner. Food suddenly wasn't safe and she would be hit with the desire to pretend she was full on an empty stomach and run on the treadmill until her lungs burned. A picture of her taken by a pap at a certain angle would send her into a cold sweat. She'd make excuses why she couldn't go to dinner and the truth would be because she was having a staring contest with a basic bowl of pasta, begging herself to stop being a fucking lunatic and take a bite.
The thing was, she steadfastly refused to give in. They never won and when they realized as much, saw her flipping them off and ignoring them and sitting at the table until that entire portion of noodles was gone, they'd understand that they weren't any match for her. Even when they tried to slip back in, through the cracks, she wouldn't allow it.
The times she'd had to go into battle were few and far between now. Thankfully, she managed to call someone, more often than not on the days she woke up with that terrible sinking feeling. Could be her mother or Blake. Could be Tree, who was incredibly skilled at talking her off any ledge imaginable. Sometimes, she was strong enough to face the ugly murmurs herself. To tell them to fuck right off like the bullies they were and they actually obeyed.
Her mother had blamed herself when she finally admitted she was sick. She'd insisted there was no one responsible, aside from society and its ridiculously unattainable beauty standards. But that was it...it wasn't her mom, as much as Andrea cried that she permitted Austin more junk food than she had Taylor because of her own food issues as a kid...it wasn't because she'd become acquainted with the modeling world where shoving a finger down one's throat or eating 800 calories a day was as common as taking in air. It wasn't even seeing herself in photos and thinking she had a gut or a double chin, when it retrospect, she looked like she was ill, which she had been.
It was something in her. The desire to be perfect, the desire to wield control and God knew, in the industry she had chosen for herself, control wasn't always an easy thing to come by. Her weight had been the one thing that was fairly easy to manipulate, to grab by the horns. She'd taken immense satisfaction in seeing the numbers on the scale go down, she'd shivered with joy when she fit into a size 2 and then eventually in a double zero.
Quietly undergoing treatment was the best thing that ever happened to her. Finding self-worth beyond her physical appearance was the best thing that ever happened to her. If it all ended tomorrow, she would still have that.
There came a sort of embarrassment with having an eating disorder. She hated being another cliché in the music industry...hated herself for being weak and falling into a trap. It wasn't like her; she'd always been so strong willed.
