through the looking glass, part 1.

i stood, looking myself up and down in the full-length dorm mirror. while analyzing my frame, i held a spoon of fat-infested peanut butter in my right hand and slowly licked it. every taste brought a feeling of relief and pure hatred towards myself. go ahead, em. finish the whole jar, you fat fuck. you've already failed yourself so you might as well finish it off right. i wanted to cry, but i couldn't. i just sat there, eating spoonful after spoonful of oil and fat and glaring at my mocking reflection. i must be the fattest ninety-eight pound girl, ever.

i lifted my spaghetti-strap dance tank to reveal a stomach that could pass for my second trimester. my fingers played over my ribs like piano keys. i clasped my hand around the opposite wrist, wrapped both hands around my thighs, pinched at the grotesque skin around my hips and stomach. the urge to crawl out of my body was unbearable. it was awkward, paunchy, and overall intolerable to be in my skin. it tingled and itched, as if it wasn't a huge fan of being in contact with the rest of my body, either.
i turned and walked back to my desk, put up some emo lyrics for an away message, and sat down to review everything i had contaminated my body with for the day. after about four items (three bowls of cereal, eleven cookies, endless handfuls of crackers), i good as lost control over my hand and scrawled the words "FAT WHORE" across the page. failure, i scold myself. you disgusting, worthless piece of shit. i wrote everything i could think of to show myself what an awful, disgraceful thing it was that i had done. these were the beginnings of the most abusive relationship i would ever be in.

* * * * *

i spoke with a friend the other day that had moved across the country last year and is rather behind on what's been going on in my life. we found ourselves on the topic of thought distortion, one of the hardest concepts for those without eating disorders to understand. how can a person so fragile-looking honestly declare "i'm fat!"? it's just a plea for attention, right? we're just looking for validation; for someone to yell, "no you're not, you're beautiful! i wish i was that skinny," right?

it's nearly impossible to describe how these disappearing men and women do not see what we do. when they look at their reflection, they see obesity. they see a person who is unhealthily overweight, and they believe it with everything they've got. the thought distortion worsens with deprivation of nourishment, meaning there is no such thing as thin enough. and the more one can convince their mind that they are, in fact, "fat", the more the mind will believe it. it only knows what we tell it, and the disease takes it from there.
one of the hardest parts of recovery is being told that the reflection staring back from the mirror isn't real. how do you convince someone that what they're seeing isn't what is actually there? well, you feed them and counsel them until their brain is nourished and informed enough to see themselves for what they really are. they just have to be ready to see it on their own.