Today I read an article about a trend in young diabetic women who skip their insulin in order to lose weight. How could anyone blatantly destroy their body like that? Just reading the story made me sick. Then I thought of how I used to compromise my own health for the sake of being thin. This is my personal battle with anorexia, the disease I loved to have.

January
A friend invites me to her shore house. In the dead of winter I can imagine myself frolicking along the beach in August, capturing the eyes of young male suitors as I emerge from the ocean with salty water careening down my svelte abs. This fantasy is shot to hell when I realize the only way I can get my favorite pair of jeans to fit is by undoing the first button. My diet consists of skipping breakfast and eating chicken fingers and fries for lunch, maybe a hamburger or some macaroni and cheese for dinner. I avoid looking in mirrors at all costs and cringe when I try on a bikini. Red stretch marks plague my legs and I take it very, very personally when my own grandmother observes that I am gaining weight, even though she does it with a playful grin on her face. I tell myself that there is no way I am going to the beach in my present state. I vow to change.

March-June
I have changed my eating habits. I now eat a small breakfast and pack a healthy lunch. I begin to cut sugary foods out of my diet as well as most pasta. By the time my sister graduates from fifth grade in June I notice that my waist is a little smaller and my stomach a little flatter. My confidence and determination are rock solid.

July
Overdrive. I eat a container of yogurt for breakfast and a banana for lunch. I have cut out dinner completely because I find it useless. Besides, the weight is literally melting off. I find a bathing suit that I do not hate. I get used to the feeling of being hungry all the time. Being full evokes guilt. I have a relapse involving two slices of pizza. I get so sick afterward I swear I'll never do it again, and I never do. I don't eat bread, sugar (except for fruit and yogurt) or anything fried. I avoid going out to eat at all costs, and when I do I only order a water. Friends are beginning to notice my drastic weight loss but try not to bring it up. Several times I go to bed so hungry that I dream about eating. I have waged total war on food.

August
The vacation comes. I about thirty pounds thinner and I feel so free, though I'm still a little self conscious about the way my thighs jiggle. My friend's brother is one of the first people to comment on my weight loss. At this point I am so proud of myself. I went from hiding underneath an oversized sweatshirt and jeans that wouldn't button to taking pictures without having to suck anything in. However, my strange eating habits are beginning to clash with the rest of the world. Everyone else eats more than a yogurt and a banana each day, and most people enjoy going to a restaurant once in awhile. My diet is becoming some sort of handicap preventing me from socializing with the world and being normal. I just pass it off as strong will power. Everyone else is weak and victim to cheesecake but I am not. I am beginning to feel tired more often but I attribute it to being more active during the summer. Right before school starts I go clothes shopping. A once dreaded activity, I am delightfully surprised to find that every pair of pants I try on is either too big or fits perfectly. I have dropped about five sizes. I purchase a pair of tight jeans and something else I'd never owned: a belt. Shirts flatter my curves instead of grimacing over my rolls, and gone is that spare tire which spilled over the top of my pants when I sat down. I am hungry every second of the day, sometimes to the point where it feels as though I can't move. Yet the discomfort I endure is worth it because being thin is my top priority. I also notice that I feel lightheaded when I stand up. Oh well.

September
School starts. I spend all night picking out what to wear for the first day and settle on a skirt and short sleeved shirt. No one has seen me in almost three months. When I walk down the hallway I feel as though I'm making my way down the red carpet. Guys are looking. One attractive boy whispers to another about how thin I got, and their eyes both run down my body. I feel so beautiful. I have never felt so beautiful in all my life. When I think of happy memories I think of how undeniably elated I was on the first day of sophomore year. The world could have ended and I would still be glowing. As people tell me I look good, I write their names down in my diary so I can keep count. The tennis season starts and with the physical activity it proves a struggle to maintain my strict diet. People start wondering if I am anorexic. I brush this all aside. They're just jealous because they don't have the willpower to do what I did. No one ever gave me a second though before, but now that I look good someone has to bring me down. I don't let them. I wear my tight jeans everyday and invest in a super short tennis skirt. I wear it as I run by the football team during practice. The hunger is worse than it has ever been. I'm starting to wonder how I can put myself through this for much longer, but then I look at my size 3 jeans and I am motivated. One girl on my tennis team calls me anorexic to my face. I am not anorexic. I am healthy. In fact, she could spare a pound or too. Boys are talking to me. My confidence is through the roof. I can never let myself be fat again. I could never throw this all away. However, I am beginning to feel the physical ramifications of my diet. I do not get my period. While running in gym class my vision goes black for a few seconds. I am lightheaded and tired all the time. Plus I am sick of yogurt and bananas. I despise them. I'd do anything for a cheeseburger and ice cream sundae, but that would be the equivalent of murdering a nun.

October
I enter therapy. My mother has grown increasingly worried about me. The therapist says I have anorexia nervosa but I don't care. She gives me a new diet, one where I eat five small meals a day. She has to be nuts. Telling me to eat five times a day sounds like telling me to perform an amputation on myself with no anesthetic. Yet I want food so badly. I don't want to be hungry anymore but I don't want to return to my old weight. I don't see any options. Starving is not a permanent solution, but I know that if I allow myself to eat normally again I will not be able to stop. I remember the first forbidden food I ate which signaled the beginning of the end. It was a homemade chocolate chunk brownie with mint ice cream and hot fudge, and it was the best tasting substance God ever created. I was in love. I just couldn't do it anymore. I had to eat. What began as an innocent quest to slim down was spiraling into self destructive behavior. I wouldn't say I was dying but I was well on my way. Everything tasted wonderful. Food held no grudges. It welcomed me back with open and delicious arms and I was glad to be a member of planet Earth again. Now I was encased in guilt after each meal. My fruit salad was shaking its head in disgust after I scarfed down sesame noodles and donuts. I started to hate myself again but I could no longer keep myself from eating. I had fought against the very thing I needed to keep myself alive and I had lost.

This was five years ago. Since then I have wisened up a bit in regards to food. Now it's exercise, smaller portions and anything soy. I think about the irreparable damage I could have done to my body by starving but I am glad I went through it. I loved being that thin and it took starving myself to realize that there is indeed another way to look good as well as be healthy. I hope this helps at least one person.