Allow me to introduce myself. My name, or as I am called by so called doctors, is Anorexia. Anorexia Nervosa is my full name, but you may call me Ana. Hopefully we can become great partners. In the coming time, I will invest a lot of time in you, and I expect the same from you. In the past you have heard all of your teachers and your parents talk about you. You are "so mature", "intelligent", "wise beyond your years", and you possess "so much potential". Where has that gotten you, may I ask? Absolutely nowhere! You are not perfect; you do not try hard enough. You waste your time eating, binging out on disgusting food. Such acts of self indulgence will not be allowed from now on.  

Your friends do not understand you. They are not truthful. In the past, when the insecurity has quietly gnawed away at your mind, and you asked them, "Am I fat” and they answered "Oh no, of course not" you knew they were lying! Only I tell you the truth. Your parents, let's not even go there! You know that they love you, and care for you, but part of that is just that they are your parents and are obligated to do so. I shall tell you a secret now: deep down inside themselves, they are disappointed with you. Their daughter, the one with so much potential, has turned into a fat, lazy, and undeserving girl.

But I am about to change all that.

I expect a lot from you. You are not allowed to eat much. It will start slowly: decreasing of fat intake, reading the nutrition labels, cutting out junk food, fried food, etc. For a while, the exercise will be simple: some running, perhaps some crunches and some sit-ups. Nothing too serious. Perhaps drop a few pounds, take a little off of that fat tub of a stomach. But it won't be long before I tell you that it isn't good enough.

I will expect you to drop your calorie intake and up your exercise. I will push you to the limit. You must take it because you cannot defy me! I am beginning to imbed myself into you. Pretty soon, I am with you always. I am there when you wake up in the morning and run to the scale. The numbers become both friend and enemy, and the frenzied thoughts pray for them to be lower than yesterday, last night, etc. You look into the mirror with dismay. You prod and poke at the fat that is there, and smile when you come across bone. I am there when you figure out the plan for the day: 400 calories, 2 hours exercise. I am the one figuring this out, because by now my thoughts and your thoughts are blurring together as one.

I follow you throughout the day. At uni, when your mind wanders I give you something to think about. Recount your calories for the day. It's too much. I fill your mind with thoughts of food, weight, calories, and things that are safe to think about. Because now, I am already inside of you. I am in your head, your heart, and your soul. The hunger pains you pretend not to feel is me, inside of you.

Pretty soon I am telling you not only what to do with food, but what to do ALL of the time. Smile and nod. Present yourself well. Suck in that fat stomach, damnit! Geeze, you are such a fat ass cow!!! When mealtimes come around I tell you what to do. I make a plate of lettuce seem like a feast fit for a king. Push the food around. Make it look like you've eaten something. No piece of anything... if you eat, all the control will be broken...do you WANT that?? To revert back to the fat WHALE you once were?? I force you to stare at magazine models. Those perfect skinned, white teethed, waifish models of perfection staring out at you from those glossy pages. I make you realize that you could never be them. You will always be fat and never will you be as beautiful as they are. When you look in the mirror, I will distort the image. I will show you obesity and hideousness. I will show you a sumo wrestler where in reality there is a starving child. But you must know this, because if you knew the truth, you might start to eat again and our relationship would come crashing down.

Sometimes you will rebel. Hopefully not often though. You will recognize the small rebellious fibre left in your body and will venture down to the dark kitchen. The cupboard door will open slowly open, creaking softly. Your eyes will move over the food that I have kept at a safe distance from you. You will find your hands reaching out lethargically, like a nightmare, through the darkness to the box of crackers. You shove them in, mechanically, not really tasting but simply relishing in the fact that you are going against me. You reach for another box, then another, then another. Your stomach will become bloated and grotesque, but you will not stop yet. And all the time I am screaming at you to stop, you fat cow, you really have no self-control, and you are going to get fat.

When it is over, you will cling to me again; ask me for advice because you really do not want to get fat. You broke a cardinal rule and ate, and now you want me back. I'll force you into the bathroom, onto your knees, staring into the void of the toilet bowl. Your fingers will be inserted into your throat, and, not without a great deal of pain, your food binge will come up. Over and over this is to be repeated, until you spit up blood and water and you know it is all gone. When you stand up, you will feel dizzy. Don't pass out. Stand up right now. You fat cow you deserve to be in pain!

Maybe the choice of getting rid of the guilt is different. Maybe I chose to make you take laxatives, where you sit on the toilet until the wee hours of the morning, feeling your insides cringe. Or perhaps I just make you hurt yourself, slicing a razor across your soft skin until you see your dripping blood and feel the pain of our skin tearing apart.

You are depressed, obsessed, in pain, hurting, reaching out but no one will listen! Who cares?! You are  deserving; you brought this upon yourself.

Oh, is this harsh? Do you not want this to happen to you? Am I unfair? I do things that will help you. I will turn you into the daughter your parents have always wanted. I will turn you into the girl you’ve always wanted to be. I make it possible for you to stop thinking of emotions that cause you stress. Thoughts of anger, sadness, desperation, and loneliness can cease because I take them away and fill your head with the methodical calorie counting. I take away your struggle to fit in with people your age, the struggle of trying to please everyone as well. Because now, I am your only friend, and I am the only one you need to please.

No one must find out about me, no one can crack this shell that I have covered you with. I have created you, this thin, perfect, achieving girl. You are mine and mine alone. Without me, you are nothing. So do not fight back. When others comment, ignore them. Take it into stride, forget about them, and forget about everyone that tries to take me away. I am your greatest asset, and I intend to keep it that way.

Sincerely,

Ana

Från
    Kom ihåg mig
URL

Säkerhetskod
     

Kommentar

börjar min nya svältdiet med att äta en hel portion havregrynsgröt och två knäckemackor med massa philladelphia. lyckat.... väntar på att det ska sluta regna så att jag kan gå ut och promenera. ska träna ikväll också. usch för mig... ...

jag är alldeles för tjock. jag lurade mig själv att tro på att jag kunde vara lycklig, smal och äta på samma gång. det funkar inte så. imorgon börjar jag om igen, jag ska svälta som jag gjorde innan. nu ska jag bli smal, på riktigt. för det är ju d...

vet inte vad jag skrev när jag skrev sist. needless to say så var det nog ett tag sedan. jag vet inte riktigt om jag tappat stinget, motivationen eller bara ord. eller alla alternativ. jag har iallafall gått ner 9kg hittills, alltså väger jag 64kg nu...

jag orkar inte uppdatera denna frikkin bloggen. jag äter, spyr. svälter, äter, spyr. tränar, äter, svälter. mitt liv kretsar kring mat, om att inte äta den. om att inte vräka i mig hela kylskåpet när tillfället finns. jag fick frågan av en instrukt...

jag har ävat för att logga in här. jag vill inte skria vad jag har ätit, men jag vill ändå. jag vill skämma ut mig, men jag vill inte stå naken med skammen. trots att jag hamnade på - kcal igår så har detta varit en riktigt dålig helg. alldeles för m...