the beginning of hell (part one)

See, the actual beginning is so far away and complex that I could never put it into words. But this new beginning, the most recent episode began around January. No surprise, the 'new year, new me' attitude creeped over my being. Of course, nothing really positive came out of it. Just binging, half a large pizza type. Multiple times a week. Including, but not limited to a good dose of everything in sight.

That's how the obsession began spiraling out of control...350 calories in one slice of pizza times 5 slices times guilt times 8 miles walked times 15 years of dieting times a slow churn of multiple medications...all calculated into the current time, also known as hell.

What's the point, there is a point. I am open about what I eat, for the most part. I've posted workout logs, I've posted progress pics...all this isn't new. I'm building suspense on another blog post about food and fitness. Yes, it's the familiar path. I would never have written about this until I discovered a couple of quotes. The first quote being, "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." by Anais Nin. The second quote, a little more literary by Ernest Hemingway: "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." I just need to write this down. Perhaps gain perspective over the situation, or fall deeper into the hole.

It started in early February. After years of dieting I had finally found the diet to end all diets! I was happy, scared, totally infatuated with the idea. It was simple, all could be solved in two words: don't eat. You can't burn the calories from a Snicker's bar as easily as you ate it, so don't eat it. You cannot undo the hangover the next day as easily as you drank the margaritas. You can't replace the money as easily as if you were to go out with friends for dinner. In theory, it's bullet proof. Don't eat snacks, don't eat sodas. I should have stopped there, but my thirst for knowledge led me deeper.

Led me to, Thinspo by Amy Ellis. Thinspo, follows the descent of an anorexic teenager into inpatient treatment through a blog style narrative. Like a child, I read each new page with amazement as day after day the narrator was steadfast in her 'diet'. 200 calories per day, 100, 0...a all amazed me. The ending chapter reeled me in.

"Maybe if I hadn’t fought so hard I wouldn’t have to go. But I’m still fighting. They can’t stop me. They can’t fix me. I am stronger than that. I’m going to be so perfect. I’m going to be so perfect it’s going to kill them. I’ll be so perfect it’ll kill me. I’ll be a martyr. I’ll be a goddess. I’ll be a thin, perfect goddess.

There are some things that cannot be fixed.

I am one of them.

This is my choice.

I don’t have to get better. They can send me away. They can force me to eat. They can make me gain it all back. They can make me talk about my “feelings” and how I feel about food and what drives me to purge and binge and starve and rinse and repeat. They can watch me in the bathroom and supervise me when I eat.

But they can’t fix me.

Because I'm not broken (emphasis by me)."

If you can imagine a soft voice echoing in the darkness: I'm broken. Over and over until your eyes closed and the next day you found yourself desperate for more knowledge on this perfect diet...then maybe you can understand how deep this gets.

How much deeper are pro anorexia literature? Is it not the same as Vogue or haute couture, idolizing a particular behavior? It's all at the gate of a hell consumed by obsessive dieting, body manipulation, and extreme control issues. The beginning of the end perhaps? Of course, there is more.


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