Ana, darling

Man, this is a topic that I don't even want to write about. But I know that it's better to talk about than to hide from it.

I was just looking through some old family albums. Well, let's start with saying how extremely critical of a grandmother I have. Every time I see her, any time any of my cousins see her, she comments on how much we weigh, whether good or bad. She was a beauty queen in her day, and always wishes that she could still look like that. She used to do everything it took to be skinny, and thinks other people should do the same. She thinks people are failures and cannot be living an optimal life if they do not look like Jennifer Aniston. I say all this, but I do love her. But it's hard to believe someone who says they love you and missed you, when the second third they say is something ilke, "Ohhh your thighs are gettin' big!".

So I struggled with anorexia for a long, long time. Since I was seven years old, and started noticing that all of the older girls at camp were looking in the mirror and asking if they looked fat. I hadn't really known before then that weight was something that you worry about, but I immediately hopped on the train. It made me feel older to be concerned about my weight, to restrict my eating, to starve myself.

I was looking through some old albums where I was in a "skinny stage". What truly makes me sad about those times is that people in my family look back on those pictures and comment on how good I looked, and how I should want to get back to that size, and how they used to be proud of me because all of the boys were noticing me. In the pictures I just look like a normal, pretty skinny, lanky 8 year old. But I was 12 and 13. When my body was supposed to be sprouting hips and boobs and becoming womanly in shape, I looked like a little boy. But all I could hear were the people telling me how fantastic I looked, how I should keep doing what I was doing. They didn't know that what I was doing was sucking on ice cubes so that my stomach pains would become a bit more bearable. What I was doing was competing with myself to eat the least calories that I could. What I was doing was eating a handful of popcorn a day.

And now, despite everything my beautiful boyfriend tells me, despite what I have tried to tell myself, I can never quite get that voice out of my head, telling me that every second that I live outside of that lifestyle is disgusting, is unacceptable to my family. That I just grow uglier and fatter by the day. I have wide hips, I am a solid woman now, which I think on some good days is beautiful. But I cannot help but doubt myself when society tells me that this image is unacceptable. That it never landed anyone a job in the beauty industry. That normal women can never...have whatever it is that is worth having.


Though ana's voice is a little quieter now that I have Adam whispering wonderful things in my ear, I do remember the days where I desperately wanted her back. I wanted the comfort of waking up with a growling stomach, because that meant that I hadn't eaten the day before. I remember the complete happiness I felt when I had managed to beat my record of days without eating, without anyone noticing. Because to people like me, that was real success. The money you earned or the awards you won didn't have a thing on completely controlling your most primal urge. That is where I have lived the majority of my life, in that place. To be outside of it now...some days I'm convinced that it is only my own personal weakness that keeps me away from ana. That I just don't possess the willpower to deny myself food. That I am weak.

It changed the course of my life forever. There has not been a single meal where I have not thought about how many calories I was putting into my body. I'm not entirely convinced that there will ever be a meal where I do not.

But right now, and for the next few years I'll wager, I'm going to be fighting that battle every day. Diets inevitably turn into starvation. I am a competitive person, and I cannot keep myself from eating certain things without at least trying to keep myself from eating all together. Exercise is the same. If I start out trying to be "healthy", and going to the gym three days a week for 20 minutes of cardio and some weights, in three months I will be going the gym for an hour and a half of intense cardio every single day, plus weights. So for now, I am working on my exercise. I am going every other day, thirty minutes of cardio and an hour on weights. I hear this is a pretty normal routine. But every day I find myself trying to fit maybe 50 more pull ups in there, maybe I could add another machine...but I have to stick to it. I promised myself that I would not change the routine and make it harder until after Christmas.

But anyway, I'm tired. There is my battle. I don't really want your insights, not this time, I just wanted you to know.