I have always been relatively skinny. I am also fatphobic, meaning (as per the definition), I am pathologically afraid of gaining weight. To the point that I will stare at the mirror anytime, I gain even just a couple of pounds of water weight and literally call my self the most disgusting names and insults, things I would never imagine saying to anyone else, out loud or ever. Anyone but me.
Have you ever experienced stress-eating also called emotional eating, if the answer is YES, then, the article is for you. Emotional eating can be fought when you know ‘how to stop stress eating’ and other things related to it.
Not many people know me online anymore. I have stayed well hidden for quite some time. I'm only now starting to become 'vocal' again. I'd like to start with something that I am very serious and passionate about. Something I don't want to joke about at all.
Journal Entry....my day one
Where do I start. I am so beyond pissed. You lied to me, you have always lied. Every single thing you have said has been untrue. You have stolen everything from me and I want it all back.
You may struggle silently. That battle may rage on for years without anyone knowing. That is the tricky thing about eating disorders, and why they are so hard to overcome. My wish for you is that you take these tips and make them your own. The recovery journey is beautiful, and also one of the most challenging things you will ever face. The end result will be rewarding, and I promise that every bit of effort pays off.
When I was little, I had a normal, awesome childhood. I was always running around, playing with my brother and just doing what kids do. When I got older, it was like overnight, that I noticed my thighs were thicker, my stomach had some extra weight on it and I thought to myself, "How did this happen." I wasn't upset about it, until everyone around me started talking about my weight. Telling me I was too pretty to weigh so much, that for a lady my thighs were too big and one summer I still remember the day I was told my legs were too big to be wearing shorts.
A few years ago I went on holiday to Spain with my boyfriend, Steve, and we were looking forward to a lovely relaxing few weeks in the sun.
I was the kid who got bullied, not lucky. Which explains why I am so greatly astonished when luck strikes me now.
By the age of twelve, I had been repeatedly told I was fat and unacceptably overweight by both my peers, relatives, and even my very own brother. I can recall the exact moment in time where I decided to count my first day in calories. One of many to come, my self love or loathing became fully dependent upon the exact amount of energy which I would consume throughout the day. My family was vacationing in Mexico for the second time that year, and I was contemplating what would come of me eating precisely one serving of Life brand cereal squares, rather than brainlessly downing however many pieces my body seemingly craved. Little did I know the birth of my complex relationship with food had begun right then and there. I slowly found myself tossing aside fatty options, and turning my nose up at any offer of snacks. I banished all the foods from my body that my parents had raised me to understand were “fattening” or “unhealthy”, and soon decided to turn away anything with an uncertain amount of calories, with the exception of fruits and veggies.
“Oh no, she’s home,” I think to myself as I hear the keys unlocking the apartment door.
Please do not knock on my door. Please do not…
Let me tell you what happens when you think you have found something good. You cherish it. You spend your days thinking about it. You rely on it. You crave it.
It’s 4pm, and I’ve only had a small breakfast. I fell asleep before I finished my morning coffee and woke up in the afternoon.
People say a picture is worth a thousand words... So, what does it say when that picture is a quote on your body that is worth your life?