Christina's Story Disordered Eating Sweden

A few years ago I was overweight. Luckily no one ever said a thing. Not my mum, not my dad, not my friends... no one. Although I heard a few nasty remarks about my body structure, I was happy. I had friends, and I was loved. Perhaps I wasn't the prettiest girl in school, but it didn't bother me all that much. Perhaps I wasn't as popular either. Didn't get invited to parties etc. Still, it wasn't my fault. They were the stupid ones. I always thought I was rather good looking and a funny person. I liked myself, and if they didn't... well I certainly couldn't understand. They simply didn't now what they missed.

As a small child I was beautiful. My dad has told me that he was so proud, golden hair, blue eyes... I said I grew bigger I've always had a craving for sweets. The taste of fat and sugar does something for me and there wasn't a dull moment if you had something to eat. So when I got home from school, perhaps felt a little sad and alone, I ate.

One day, I discovered that I was fat. I had thought about it occasionally, when we bought me clothes and so... (Buying jeans was a nightmare...) But now it was a fact, it was serious. It was right after Christmas and I was 12 years old. I started off real good I think. I mean there's nothing wrong with eating a little healthier. I stopped eating snacks, candy, fast food... of course, I lost weight. They were all so proud of me. Everyone said nice things to me, and I was a good girl. I was proud of myself to... For a while.

Actually I don't remember when it got serious. It could have been that summer when I got thirteen... It's all a blur. Somehow, It feels like I've been obsessed with it all my life. Well anyway, It wasn't until that summer camp I started to count calories. Those wonderful boys had gotten a very special place in my heart... Of course I wanted to look good! And soon it was summer, with bathing-suits, small shorts and everything that comes with it... I just wanted to look slender too, not like a big blob.

I didn't know much about dieting then. Now I know all there is to know, since you read everything about it that you get your hands on. Everything. It's your hobby, and you can spend hours and hours just reading about that fabulous bananas-diet. Well, I wanted to weigh 55 kilos. So I started of eating a 1000 kcal a day. I didn't understand how little that was, I simply knew that if I kept on doing it for seven weeks, I would loose those heavy pounds and be every boys wet summer-dream by June.

So I started. I got dizzy. I felt ugly and disgusting. I showered twice a day, just because I felt... dirty. I got tired and cranky, used to scream at my friends and family. Still, I didn't understand that I was eating way to little. And the faster the scale went down, the happier I got, so I started to eat even less...

I was never an anorexic. I'm one of those girls who you can see in the statistics, the one who ALWAYS diets, but never gets as successful as getting the diagnosis "Anorexia Nervosa". I'm just an ordinary girl, highly ordinary looking, with your everyday, ordinary eating disorder. You couldn't tell that there was anything wrong with me. And I have to say that it made me disappointed. I wanted to get noticed, to get attention. It wasn't my first intention to be like this, this selfish and self-absorbed. I just wanted to be thin.

You can put it this way, I DEFINITELY didn't try to hide it. People saw that I got thinner, and when they asked if I ate all right, God, I was so HAPPY... I was delighted. "Oh no... I said, "I eat." Then I looked at them with my sad eyes. I wanted them to pity me, to feel sorry for me. I figure it's my nature.

I guess I'm saved by my inability to barf. I can't, it is impossible. And I've tried several times, with my whole hand stuck in my throat. It comes with dieting, the eating I mean. The gorge. And you can't stop it, can you. You always think that you can, but no. You just totally loose it, and the shame afterwards... I've cried a lot of tears I can tell you that. I like to blame it all on my parents, even though I know it's wrong. They've always wanted my best. Somehow it's hard to ignore facts. My mum is really thin, and she eats very little. Grandmother is really fat, and mum has always been afraid to become like her. That's why she has dieted ever since the day my dad said that she had gotten a little too pudgy. She weighed 65 kilos then.

My father is 48, but has the body of a "30 something." He has the strongest character I've ever seen, and never takes two times of the dessert. He also had an eating disorders when young...a mix between way to much training and to little to eat. He used to orienteer [a cross-country type race] at a high level, a sport which is known for the many cases of anorexia among it's practitioners. Some family.

It was my dad that first said anything. He suggested that I should start to eat again, since I was lovely just the way I am. That helped me a lot. Just getting that attention. Just knowing that someone cared. Sorry to say I haven't stopped. I still need to loose some, to get into a nice bikini and all of that... but I guess I have some sort of balance in it now, and I don't throw myself at the floor and cry anymore when I've gained a pound...

Love from a Swedish girl named Christina.