One of the things you forget about when you blog is that everybody knows all of your business. I’m reminded of this often at work… I’ll mention something to a colleague, and they’ll already know what I’m saying (which, in all reality, is pretty cool that they’d even read my stuff. Believe me, this is not a complaint!).
This isn’t necessarily bad, because it brings a human face (or, in my case, a butt) to the things I’m sharing with you, especially when they’re as personal as this one is.
I’ve been waiting and wondering whether or not I was going to share this with you, but since it’s Eating Disorder Awareness month, I felt like there was no better time.
I have a problem with food.
It’s been around since I was about ten, and it will never go away. It never does.
Things were really tough when I was in high school (though, let’s be honest… who doesn’t have a tough time in high school?). Between theatre, a troubled home life and some inner demons, I needed to find something I could control… and food was that one thing. My weight dangerously low for my 5’4 1/2 frame.
Like a lot of women, it was fueled by a lot of positive comments from people who genuinely meant well. I cut out meat, then fish, then starches, and eventually managed to subsist on Diet Coke with Lime and diet pills. It was amiserable existence – I don’t think I could have cared about anythingeven if I wanted to.
After high school ended, I moved in with my father. He forced me to eat and I had no way of hiding it. I took diet pills after that for a while, and kept up with them when I went to Loyola.
My weight got back up to about 115 in college (I’m around 110 now,which at 5’4 is in the normal BMI range, though I’ve had concerneddoctors since about 8 lbs of that is in my chest), but I was stillusing drugs really heavily and I finally hit bottom. While that was probably one of the worst times of my life (and we won’t go into details here), it also saved me.
I took the second semester off of college and moved back in with my dad in Ann Arbor. I found a good psychotherapist, saw him a LOT, and worked through my problems.
Listen, I know this really has nothing to do with denim. It doesn’t, not really. But if one person reads this and wants to change, it’s worth being this vulnerable.
And those of you who have sent me hate mail telling me I’m too fat (or too thin… I’ve gotten them both), you don’t matter to me. If it did, I wouldn’t be here writing for the thousands of you who do read.
I think what I’m trying to say here is that no person should spend their lives like that. You are so much more than a number on a scale, or a size on a pair of jeans. There are so many more important things in live… and you deserve them all.
If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, or want to help someone you love, I’d recommend checking out the National Eating Disorders Association. And while I’m most certainly not a professional, I am here if you ever need anything… just email me.