If only you understood the depth of my desire to be thin. I battled silently, trying to mask my obsession with perfection. The negative chatter in my mind was relentless, and some days, it still echoes. I spent countless hours fixating on photoshopped images in magazines, wishing to attain that unattainable ideal.
In 2006, at twenty-seven years old and living far from home, I reached my lowest weight. Ironically, I felt my happiest regarding my body during that time. If only he knew—my boyfriend, now husband, had only entered my life seven months earlier, and I was already at a concerning weight. He had no idea about the façade I was maintaining, nor was I ready to reveal the truth.
In reality, I wasn’t naturally this thin. I was an average size, with curves that I once appreciated, but I had lost that love. I viewed my body as flawed—a vessel that needed to be perfect. It didn’t conform to my rigid ideals. It needed to be smaller, skinnier, prettier. If only you could see the turmoil within.
Being thin had been my goal for as long as I could remember. It consumed my thoughts: “If only my ribcage didn’t protrude so much,” “If only my hips were narrower,” “If only my butt was smaller.” As I entered puberty, I held onto the hope that I could revert to my pre-teen body by sheer will and effort. If only you realized how deep that struggle ran.
My identity was tied to my weight; it defined my worth. I shrank myself, feeling a fleeting sense of pride every time I noticed my ribs. I was achieving my goal, but my spirit was starved. My body cried out for relief from this battle.
Over time, I gradually regained the weight I had lost and a bit more. I felt as if I were being punished for my past choices, undeserving of the body I desired. Eventually, with the support and love of my friends and family, I began to reclaim my body—the one I mistreated.
But this is not the end of my journey. The thoughts still linger; they often return, like an unwelcome visitor. Some days are better than others, but now I possess awareness. I am more resilient than my body dysmorphia and disordered eating. I have strength I never acknowledged before. I am beautiful just as I am.
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Summary:
This article discusses the author’s journey to overcoming disordered eating and body dysmorphia, revealing the struggles and realizations that led to self-acceptance and inner strength. Despite facing lingering thoughts, the author emphasizes the importance of awareness and resilience in embracing one’s body.