This was taken ten years ago. I loved that shirt. I loved crimping my hair. I loved and still love summer skin that is olive-colored and natural. I love this picture now and I wish that my thirteen-year-old self loved it too, but I didn't.
This post is going to backtrack the previous post a few years. I wasn't going to share, but I feel that I need to.
I am not proud of some of the things that I did. The shame of it still haunts me, but I am hanging up my pride and sharing some very personal, sensitive experiences that I had.
I had heard that drinking LOTS of water helped loose weight, so I would try that every now and then.
I never starved myself. Food was too delicious, but I often tried purging.
In middle school, the videos of bulimic girls both haunted me and gave me the inspiration to try...
I don't think it is suppose to work that way...
Everyone was asleep but me. I couldn't sleep. The things that I had put in my mouth were going to make me fat and that thought occupied my mind. I was determined to throw it up and flush down the pain that I felt with it. I knelt next to the toilet with my finger down my throat in an attempt to gag myself. I had tried before with failed attempts. But I was determined, I felt that it was the only way.
I looked into the porcelain bowl, it smelled like bleach. I had been sitting there for a while and tears streaked my face. I pulled my knees to my chest, bowed my head and rocked back and forth trying to sooth my tears. I was ugly. Not only did I think I looked ugly, but I felt ugly for trying such a thing. I continued to cry.
"You are beautiful. You are beautiful because you are mine. My daughter."
These words were so clear it scared me. Some might call this my conscious, but I believe that the words were of God. That it was a sensation that I needed. I remember that my crying calmed down, and I felt instant peace. I was beautiful, even if I still needed convincing.
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