"Ever since I was five years old, I knew there was something different about me. Yeah I know, cliche, right-but it couldn't be helped. My mother, who was a big fan of America's Next Top Model as well as a variety of other reality tv shows that featured beautiful, skinny woman, would often sit down and watch the shows with me telling me that I would grow up to be pretty like them.At the time I believed it. My new dream was no longer to become an astronaut, but a model. Someone everyone thought was beautiful. When I was ten years old, my obsession with Disney movies made an appearance. I absolutely adored them-and still do. As expected of a ten year-old, I didn't focus on the plot of the movie much and instead, simply enjoyed seeing the prince do something daring for the princess. However, certain details managed to get stuck in my head despite my keen focus on the romance and fairy magic. The princess's were all beautiful and skinny (please note that while I cared more about them being skinny at the time, the princess's beauty was in-bedded in my mind because it was around this time I started realizing I loved girls in the way princes love their princess).At ten, I made a new goal-one to have a waist as tiny as a princess.
When I was 12, my relationship with Ana started (I know that this disorder doesn't deserve a cute pet-name, but at the time, this is what it was to me, and this is all from my memory so I want to write it the same way).
I had a friend, who for the sake of me wish to keep her anonymous, will be called Emily. Emily was beautiful, or at least, she was what I found beautiful at the time. She was skinny all while remaining athletic due to her being a cheerleader, her hair had natural highlights and never was out of place and her dad was right-she even got to travel everywhere! Perks of having a pilot in the family, I suppose.After a while though, my relationship with Emily changed and I soon grew tired of her complimenting me because I never believed a word she said-I didn't even like being in her presence anymore due to the jealousy I felt.Being naive, I decided to take a tip of something my health teacher advised against in class and I skipped a meal. For months I skipped meals every day, never allowing myself to eat more than breakfast until I grew tired with the lack in results. Deciding to try something else, I listened to the nagging in my head and stopped eating meals-now it was just a few bites when people questioned me and I had no way of escaping notice or to prevent my body from collapsing.In the end though, a few months later after I only recently turned 13, my mother found out due to her discovering the fact that I self-harmed and wasn't in a place where I planned on stopping. My mother helped me with not only my depression and self-abuse, but my eating disorder. It took me a year to reach a normal weight, which I was at before the entire thing started and I fell into a whole I didn't think I'd ever get out of-let alone want to.I'm not going to lie and say once you manage to get out of an eating disorders clutch on you, it doesn't affect you because frankly, that's not true. Some people, unlike me, have permanent damage, both physically and mentally, done to their body. Others leave the grasp the disorder held on them through death, me? I can't go a month at most without skipping meals or at least debating it.If I am being entirely honest, I've already skipped meals or thought about it more than I can count with all my fingers and toes in just this month- even though it's no longer a disorder, at least for me, once you have gone though anorexia, it never completely goes away.You know that it's wrong, you know it hurts you, but the thought is there and it will take a lot longer than a few years (15 now) to go away. I don't know if I will ever truly stop debating whether or not to eat forever, but I know that as of right now, I'm healthy and I won't let myself fall back into a whole again, because every time I do, someone will be there for me, even if they don't know it.Like my mother, for example.At one point, I wouldn't let her or anyone know a single thing about me, down to the last detail. No one even knew my favorite food or colour.I was distant and never let go of my cool-facade that let everyone believe I was a normal popular girl who never stopped laughing (I got kicked out of class once for this once I reunited with my health). But in the end, my mother found out a few of my darkest secrets (she doesn't know everything yet, no one does, but it's okay as long as you don't hold the weight of you entire existence on your shoulders), was able to help me get out of the mess I was in.You want to know the best part?She hasn't watched America's Top Model since then, even though she doesn't think I noticed, she claims she already knows one of the prettiest girls in the world.If anyone has any questions I can answer them and hopefully help them.
