So I just watched the move To The Bone, starring Lily Collins (oh my god, girl crush) on Netflix. It was brilliant. A little lighter than I would have liked (they didn’t portray the darkness of eating disorders well enough, IMO…I love that heavy shit), but nonetheless still brilliant.
It was super triggering. But then again, everything is for me – it’s my hypersensitivity, I can’t help it. So I’m sitting here now, writing this post, scrolling through my endless supply of thinspo on Tumblr. Ah Tumblr, where it all began. It’s crazy to think that 5-6 years ago, here I was doing the exact same thing. That’s how it happens, you know? You flood your mind with images of bones, of baggy clothes, and long flowing hair on tiny frail little bodies. You start obsessing about your fingers touching when you wrap your hands around your thigh. Or your arm, or your wrist. You start obsessing about the collar and hip bones that are slowly beginning to protrude. You sit there, and you take it in.
You start checking the scale every time you eat, every time you purge; every morning and every night. You check the scale when you’re sad. You check it when you’re happy. You check it when you’re bored and you check it just before you go out. You check it at the doctors, hoping they won’t say anything about how much you’ve dropped. You check it at a friend’s, who you hope doesn’t walk in on you while you’re butt naked in front of the mirror.
You check it before weigh-ins, then run upstairs to stuff weights in your underpants, put on two more pairs of pants, and run to the kitchen to drink 2 gallons of water. Check it again – phew! You’re good. No one will ever know. Those dirty little secrets, tips and tricks you keep to yourself and cherish so much. Rituals, almost. Mom walks in and checks your weight, “Good job, honey. I’m so proud of you for getting better!”
And then as she leaves for work, you brace yourself. Ready. Steady. GO! Run to the kitchen. Open every single cupboard there is – cereals, cookies, pastas, TV dinners, chips LOTS AND LOTS OF CHIPS – and peanut butter, everything tastes good with peanut butter. ICE CREAM! Super easy to come back up.
You inhale it all in a matter of 10 minutes. You can’t even taste anything at this point, barely breathing between bites. You just stuff and stuff, until the void is filled. Then fall to your knees, crawling slowly to the bathroom, because it hurts too much to walk. You’re so full. So fucking full your stomach is literally about to burst. You made it, you can feel the cold tile floors underneath your skin. Now its the cold white porcelain you rest your head on before -OH GOD HERE IT COMES, didn’t even need a finger this time. Pouring and pouring. It all comes out, the cookies, the cereal, the chips, oh god all the peanut butter, the ice cream, the pasta – all of it. And then some more. You even get a nice hint of pink in there – blood.
You’re finished. Panting now, trying to catch your breath, you wipe your face with your foul-smelling hands, go to the sink, rinse your mouth, wash your hands, wash your face. Breath check. Breath check again. Okay, you’re good.
Time for round 2.