Mirror, Mirror

I don’t understand. I really don’t. How so many people can see so many things in me that I just can’t.

I am part of an all female group on Facebook. It’s lead by a photographer that idolizes all body types, and does boudoir photo shoots, among other things. So I decided that it might be a good idea to have a shoot with this photographer. She’s so sweet, and uplifting, and so very inspirational.

I got to set on the scheduled Saturday, after my boyfriend practically pushed my stalling ass out of the house. This was waaaay out of my comfort zone. But, this photographer and her group is what inspired me to finally seek help for my… eating habits. So I took a deep breath, and excitedly entered the studio. The photographer was having ‘a day’. The hair and makeup artist was warm and welcoming… but you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

The photographer was having a relapse, and the other woman there knew that. So she says, “So let’s talk about eating disorders for a moment.” The photographer hadn’t eaten in 6 days, was being forced to drink a protein shake by her friend doing my hair and makeup, and wanted me to just be the person who understood without really having to say anything. And oh, do I ever.

The rest of the hair and makeup time was spent talking about how hard it is for her to raise up all of these beautiful women, and be inspirational for all of them, while feeling so incredibly horrible about herself. She felt the hypocrisy I’ve so often babbled on about in this blog. And I selfishly hated being a part of that conversation. I had paid to be there, and be pampered, and feel good about myself… and here, the whole ugly eating disorder issue was rearing it’s ugly head right in front of me.

The shoot itself felt like it went extremely well. I was in my element. I had modeled for a bit about 13 years ago… but nothing like this. I felt great. She kept telling me that everything was great, I was doing so well, that I was nailing every shot. And I felt good about that! I was impressed with myself.

Today, I got the sneak peek. A collage by the photographer of 4 photos. And reality crashed around me. I don’t look sexy. I look like me. And it made me cry. Here, I had been anticipating these incredible photos of me outside of my element, being sexy, and all made up… but it was still just me. I immediately started tearing myself apart. And I still am. My boyfriend, obviously, loves the pictures. I had one of my group friends directly message me telling me how incredible I looked.

All I can see are all of the things makeup and cameras can’t hide. My mouth with the down-turned corners. My front teeth that are slightly bigger making me look like a rat. My back that doesn’t arch properly when I try to ‘arch’ it. My thighs looking like sausage links.

I just wish I could see what other people do. I want to be able to find myself attractive without feeling completely empty. At the very least, it would be great to just not hate myself.

Slippery Slope

This is a wonderful, glorious weekend where I have nothing to do except for spend time hanging out with the kids and relax. My boyfriend is at his home this weekend with his son, so it’s just me and the kiddos.

There’s only one problem. I was so excited to have an evening with just the kids last night, and they had eaten dinner before I picked them up. So aside from the three bites of my work snack before deciding the cheese had warmed up too much to be good and ditching it back in the refrigerator, I didn’t eat anything yesterday.

Now I’m at a point where I so easily find myself. I’m not hungry. Nothing sounds good. And I have no motivation to eat. Here I am, trying to get better, trying to become healthy, and I have one day where I don’t eat… and I feel like I’m right back at square one. If anything, this just makes me want to work out. I love the feeling of my muscles working off the excess weight I’ve been carrying around the last week on an empty stomach. Nothing else to weigh me down.

I’ve recognized this as dangerous territory. This is where, in the past, I would just go with it, and not really worry about the fact that my body had absolutely nothing to fuel it but caffeine and nicotine. I would just embrace it as starting my new cycle. But because I’m trying to break that cycle, I recognize that I need to eat something. I need to eat something before I become terrified to put anything into my body again…which happens at an alarming rate.

I also recognize that it would be so easy to just… not. That, I think is one of the hardest and scariest parts of all this. I know that I would be completely fine going another two days without eating, and everything would be hunky dory. But I’m not trying to get better because it’s easy. And I made a commitment to myself when I started being open about this and going to therapy. I am NOT a quitter. And I don’t take the easy way out. So damnit, I’m going to find something, anything, that I will eat for dinner tonight. Even if it’s something small. Before I slide all the way down that hill.

Everything Sucks

Today is a bitch day. Where I just NEED to get everything out of my system.

I. Feel. Disgusting. In every facet of the word. I feel sick to my stomach. I feel like my entire body looks like misshapen pizza dough. And now that I think of it, I’ve felt that way pretty much all weekend. I don’t remember what my weight was this morning… and THAT terrifies me. Last night I was up a bit, and it would have maybe calmed me at least knowing what my weight is.

My boyfriend pointed out a woman at the park during my lunch break. I told him she looks tiny, to which he replied, “That is what you look like.” I didn’t believe him. Today, I feel particularly large. I almost felt like he was trying to prank me… but I think even he knows better than that.

It has just been a particularly rough day. Work is going well. Life in general is pretty fantastic… I just don’t have the energy to deal with my brain at the moment. I can’t look at myself without being disgusted at what I’m seeing.

If I had one wish, and I truly mean this, I would wish that no one would ever have to feel the way I feel about myself, about themselves. I know that I’m not the only person out there that has to constantly battle the thoughts in their head – far from it – but I really wish no one would ever have to feel that way. It’s really not a great feeling. I want to crawl in a whole, lie in a ball, and go to sleep. Just hibernate.

Pizza Day

Today is Pizza day in the office. I love pizza. And here I sit, smelling everyone around me eating it. I don’t always avoid it. When I am in my ‘healthy’ phase of my cycle, I have no problem having some pizza and some salad. Now is not one of those phases. And it royally sucks.

I walked past it. I contemplated it. Maybe just half a slice. But I think back to last week when I put salad in my bowl… and I threw it away because the texture was off after one bite.

Sometimes I wonder why is it so fucking difficult for me to just enjoy food all the time? I have my weeks where I feel like I’m actually ‘normal’, and I listen to my body. When can I make that my life? Is that even a possibility at this point, or have I completely fucked myself over?

I can always hope that next pizza day, I will enjoy it.