Even though I haven’t starved myself in a very long time, I am an anorexic at heart. I loved being thin. I loved being skinny. I loved, loved, loved the ridges of my abs, the distinction of my ribs, and the way my hip bones jutted out past my womb. I loved the way my body felt at the tail end of a five day fast. I loved the way reality got blurry and fuzzy, the empty, hollow feeling inside my body, the fist of hunger that pushed into my guts all the way through to my lower back, the soporific effect of calorie deficit and the lucid, crazy, more-real-than-real-life dreams it produced.
I know I’m probably not supposed to say any of that here. I’m POSITIVE there are people that will think less of me, call me a freak, say “you need mental help,” and stop reading my words.
Doesn’t matter. I have to own my truth, and this is it.
Right or wrong, good or bad, beautiful or horribly ugly, this is it.
This is ME.
Turns out, so this this.
Hi. My name is Erin. I am a recoverING anorexic bulimic body dysmorphic. I have three kids, stretch marks, a herniated belly button from three, full term pregnancies,
My name is Erin, and I have fat.Read More