|This morning's breakfast.|
Most people who know me in real life know that I am very skinny. And while I'm not about to disclose a massive eating disorder that has affected me since the age of twelve, I do have to admit, I have had problems with food in the past. (Just to clarify, I do not have an earning disorder.) I just have a bad habit.
This particular bad habit probably did begin when I was twelve. In sixth grade, I was placed into a more advanced math class which took place over my lunch break. My teacher allowed me to eat in class after math since I missed lunch, but I always felt bad about munching while my peers were reading silently. Many days, I just skipped eating lunch or I ate as little as possible. I believe that's how it started, but it's hard to be sure. I've had a history of disliking breakfast foods and when there were no leftovers, I rarely ate. This tendency further developed over summers and while homeschooling. My schoolwork often came above food; Skipping breakfast, I would start school as soon as I woke up. It wasn't that I hated myself or had bad self-esteem, I just had other, better things to do. I couldn't be bothered with making food for myself and then taking the time to eat it. Many times, I just didn't feel like eating.
It was over summer that I realized I was probably underweight. Over the course of several doctor visits for my back, my weight fluctuated and kept going down. I didn't really mind so much, until I couldn't do something because of it. I couldn't donate blood at Red Cross because I was twenty pounds under the minimum weight for blood donation. I wanted to donate blood, but I didn't put that much effort into it. I'm not sure if I really wanted to gain the weight back. A friend who recovered from an eating disorder gave me tips about what to eat to gain weight and how often, what things I should avoid. When I started looking into eating disorders and checking to see if I was underweight, I got scared. I scared myself into eating more, because I didn't want to endanger my body. My friend collapsed and was hospitalized for a week before her parents caught on; I didn't want that to me. I'd also read that you can lose your fertility when your body goes into "survival mode" if you aren't giving it the nourishment it needs. I started to count calories like an obsessive, but in reverse- I tried to see how many I could squeeze into one day, but that only lasted so long. Eventually, the fear died away or I stopped caring and I gave up.
When my mom started noticing it, she became very concerned amd she talked to me about it. Now she's forcing me to eat my three meals every day. I comply, for my own benefit. She gives me ideas for what I can eat and sometimes cooks for me so I won't give in to my own laziness. To be honest, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just trying to gain the weight back. I'm just trying to get by.
Don't get me wrong, I love my food. I could go on and on about all the foods I like and all the excellent dishes my parents can make. I just let my laziness and other priorities get in the way of taking care of myself. But I'm getting back on track now. My parents are helping me as well as a few close friends who know about it. I guess you can too now. Go ahead and ask me what I've eaten, sometime. And maybe, by next year, I'll be able to donate blood.