At War With My Own Body

I am rapid-typing this post. That means no proofreading, no thinking, things are just flowing straight from my brain to my fingers and neurons are firing and all sorts of things are happening and it’s because I am in one of these moods where I cannot type nearly as fast as my thoughts are moving and I have so many things pent up inside of me that this happens, this happens every time. So I apologize now for typos and runons. As a journalist and pretty prolific writer, such things usually bother me, but today is not one of those days.

Today was weird in many ways. I feel like my body is out of control. I have the silly notion that my weight is the one thing that is stopping me from being the woman I truly want to be. I am intelligent, and attractive on almost all other aspects (not to sound conceited or anything, but my hair has gotten really healthy and with a good coat of makeup I look quite smashing, aside from the fat face). Being invited to the national college media convention in NYC is skyrocketing my school journalism career and will be introducing me to so many amazing things. These are good things, and I like good things. These are the good things that keep me sane and balanced when I’m on the breaking point, which I am right now.

I truly wish I could just stop eating, but I cannot. I am learning to control myself, but the battle to control my cravings and not overeat is so much harder than I ever thought it would be. And frankly, I cannot go back to bulimia again, purely for the sake of my teeth, which are one of my nice redeemable features after a little whitening and the three years of dental work they went through. The throwing up was destroying them, and of course, killing me. But I can’t help but feel jealous of two years ago me. She was so much lighter.

I feel like I am slowly falling apart. I am hungry for so many things: food, attention, acceptance, likability, money, and mostly definitely food. I am a hungry person. I seem so much more hungry than any of my friends. I want it all to stop. I want it under control. I want my body under control. I want my life under control.

Today I worked out for so long that I burned a few more calories than I ate. I know that it is wrong and while exercise is good for me, I overdid it and pushed it to the brink of being unhealthy. But I cannot help but feel satisfied with myself for pushing that hard. It is sickening how proud I feel. I don’t want that feeling to be there. I want to wake up tomorrow and be skinny without all the physical and mental torture I am suddenly putting myself through.

The weight I’ve gained in college upsets me greatly. I hate it so much and I want my high school body back, as lame as that sounds. I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but if I got back down to that weight again I would never take it for granted. I would never take fitting into my size 5 pants for granted again.

I want to escape.

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