~blackmilksleep

"here's my heart, don't fuck it up.

i am the patron saint of bad ideas. everything that flows through my head is a horrible thing to do, but for some reason i never realize this until after-the-fact. i never know what i truly want. i'm horribly indecisive. when you ask me what i request i'll mutter my answer of "do what you want." and i always give in, even when what you want me to do is the last thing i want to do. eating disorders, relationships, jobs, i've had an assortment of each that i did not ask for or even want. but i'm not smart. i don't pull myself out of them. i float around life like the weightlessness you feel when you're halfway to the bottom of a pool. i grab the pain from said events and attach it to my side and decide that i'll have it removed along with my tonsils one day. but of course that's not what life had in store for me. there are days where everything you know comes crashing down around you. you know the day, the one where you find out your grandfather may have cancer, the day you find out your friend accidentally hung herself with a hammok with 4 days until graduation, the day you realize there is more to fear than fear itself. this is the evolution of my eating myself:

it started when i was roughly 16, i had never been fat, i was always skinny. at 5'10 i was a size 5, a 34 A and tipping the scales at a mean 135 pounds of year-round-aquatics muscle. i never saw myself as fat. i still to this day do not. but i did notice everything else wrong with me. one of my breasts is larger than the other, one of my hips sits higher than the other, my collarbone is visible through my skin, one of my legs is too long, my feet and hands are too small and my eyes look like the devil had a hand in creating them. awesome. so around this lovely time of self doubt i became much more involved in modeling. i signed with my first agency, my friends did the same and i was forced to look at people who were 5'10 and a 0. every fucking day. so i did what every responsible girl would do, busted out the rice cakes at ate them all day. my grand total of Caloric intake was somewhere around 1600 Calories/day. i didn't really lose any weight so i changed my diet; i would eat oatmeal and applesauce- and that was it. i got down to roughly 130 pounds before i decided to put it all to a dead stop. i was living off diet sodas and apples. it took me two months but i got down to 115 pounds. and fuck you if you thought i was too skinny, you were just jealous that your clavicle didn't jut out at such an obscene angle.

last year i spent thanksgiving at my then-boyfriends house. after refusing every meal that i was offered his mother pulled me into the kitchen and damn near carried me up to her bathroom so she could put me onto the scale. the numbers read 89 and she told me i was going to rehab unless i pulled my shit together. i promised i would and ate three peas that night. as we were retiring to the room we were sharing that evening i passed out in my boyfriends arms. he took me to the hospital and they realized why i had been so sick lately- i was under 13.1 BMI, and you guessed it- my body was eating itself from the inside. you have no idea how thrilled i was. i spent most of december in between hospitals and pretending that i was fine. and of course, i was fine- fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional. i spent christmas with my boyfriend and his family, then with my family, and all was sickeningly well. everyone was happy, except me. i remember the day after christmas i discovered 100 Calorie packs. that was all i needed. i would eat five of those and be happy and clean and- thin. i remember thinking that everyone but me was sick. that my only friends were the ana girls at pinkberry and my only confidants were at house of thin online."

I wrote that a foot of hair, and two months ago describing my perceived sanity.
I was sick. I'm so glad I'm not sick any more.