I had always been overweight. It was the summer before ninth grade when I started to notice it. You see, my father had always criticized me and would constantly tell me how fat I was. Being 5'3" and weighing 115 pounds, I decided to go on a diet. However, this didn't give me fast enough results. I wanted to be thin NOW. I still remember the first time I ever tried throwing up my food. I was eating oatmeal for breakfast, and went back for seconds. My dad said that I was already fat enough and that I should stop eating so much. Angry, I scarfed down the food and stormed off to my room. I sat there on my bed thinking of ways to show dad that I could indeed loose weight without him telling me what to do. That's when the idea of throwing up my food came into mind. It was extremely hard to throw up, so I stopped, thinking, "this is stupid." Besides, I never liked throwing up in the first place. Whenever I did it, I would cry. It would be almost three weeks before I tried it again.
Although in those three weeks I didn't throw up, I became very interested in the whole bulimia deal. I checked out books about anorexia/bulimia at the library, comparing the two eating disorders with each other, deciding which I could actually carry out. I chose bulimia. That way, I could have everything I wanted and still stay thin. So that night I ate a bowl of soup and tried it out. But this time I used a spoon to purge. Success! I had used spoons instead of my hands, which gave me two advantages. One, it was easier for me, and two my hands never scarred.
From then on out it was wonderful. I went on a strict bagel and salad diet. I ran for thirty minutes a day steadily uphill, I constantly lifted weights and did exercises on tape, and I purged twice a day. I felt so... IN CONTROL! I went from being 5'3 and 115, to 5'3 and 100 pound within a matter of weeks. For the first time in my life, I was thin! My friends complimented me. My dad even said I was looking better. But my happiness soon fled as I wanted to lose just two more pounds. If I skipped a day of running, I would double up the next day. I would spend my nights either doing hundreds of crunches or lying in bed clutching the fat on my stomach and crying.
It was my mother who found out four months later. She heard me in the bathroom and when I came out, she started yelling at me, obviously enraged with me. She screamed at me asking me why I did it. I just shrugged. It was when she threatened to tell my dad that I responded. I begged her not to tell him; that I would stop...
It's been almost two years since that day and I still find myself struggling this hopeless battle. Oh, I had stopped for a month, but the urge was too strong to resist. I slid back into the binge purge mode again. Somewhere along the road I lost my will to diet and exercise though. Now I just eat and purge. I started to gain weight and now I'm 5'3 and 110. I remember how stupid I was, thinking I could stop anytime I wanted to. I now realize the power it has over you. It makes you think you're in control, until it has you, and it's only then that you realize it had you from the first purge session. It is all you have now, and without it, you are a helpless child, flailing your arms in the water. I know I need help right now, but I'm so afraid of what will happen to me if I do. I don't know, I'm pretty convinced that I will die from this because I am too weak to fight it off. I keep wondering what my life would be if I never intermingled with this, if I had only lost weight the right way, but then I think, Oh well, what's done is done. Right?