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[I start with warning of food and weight talk, though I'm writing so I don't forget.]
Something important happened Sunday.
As bad as I felt, I read my texts. "Miss you", "get better", the things that pull me up. So I showered and scrubbed my face, dead set on going out, on seeing these people, on walking. But I hit the same old walls, and the same mirror and my same face, and I thought, "How did it get this round?"
That same, worn out insecurity said, "Don't go out. Wait a week until you're thinner. It's just 6 or so pounds. You won't die, you're good at losing. It's all you're good at. People complain, but don't they always? You'll always be 'too this or that, not good enough', whether you're eating or not eating, all the same."
I believe it because it's loud. It's disgusting, and it's insistent, but that louder, harsher voice comes through: "You're barely standing, don't be stupid. 6 pounds. 7 pounds. Where does it stop? You can stop this."
So I went. No gloss, no BB; I missed my friends, and that was that. I never mentioned how their hugging hurt, as sore as I felt. But one of them stood still smiling at me, and I thought, "don't stare like that, don't look for things" before holding me out by the shoulders, and gushing, "I just love your eyes!" And being miles into my head, I stared. Offered the world's weakest thanks, because I couldn't imagine the reason. Just thought to myself, "don't cry".
I'm hard on my skin, appearance, weight, what I'm convinced must matter to someone, thinking she'd notice I'm so much worse, so much paler and swollen with water, and she's looking to say, "I love them". Some reminding me, "I love YOU". So I looked too, later, and I decided, they must be something special. Or that she is, to look at them. Past the outside I hate.
I don't know why. Thin, I thought, made the best defense against everything. The more I hear "small, cute, faerie", the more "insecure, anxious, afraid" seem to melt. But I'm tired at the same time. I'm tired of strangers looking, looking over, being labeled before I can speak. Of opinions I never asked for, of cold, rude nurses and people asking if I eat dinner. It's same with sick and anemia, and the celiac I can't change. So it's iron pills and more sleeping, though it's lighter--the sleep--because I'm loved, like my eyes, and I'm sure of that now.
I want to get better more than anything. I will.
Something important happened Sunday.
As bad as I felt, I read my texts. "Miss you", "get better", the things that pull me up. So I showered and scrubbed my face, dead set on going out, on seeing these people, on walking. But I hit the same old walls, and the same mirror and my same face, and I thought, "How did it get this round?"
That same, worn out insecurity said, "Don't go out. Wait a week until you're thinner. It's just 6 or so pounds. You won't die, you're good at losing. It's all you're good at. People complain, but don't they always? You'll always be 'too this or that, not good enough', whether you're eating or not eating, all the same."
I believe it because it's loud. It's disgusting, and it's insistent, but that louder, harsher voice comes through: "You're barely standing, don't be stupid. 6 pounds. 7 pounds. Where does it stop? You can stop this."
So I went. No gloss, no BB; I missed my friends, and that was that. I never mentioned how their hugging hurt, as sore as I felt. But one of them stood still smiling at me, and I thought, "don't stare like that, don't look for things" before holding me out by the shoulders, and gushing, "I just love your eyes!" And being miles into my head, I stared. Offered the world's weakest thanks, because I couldn't imagine the reason. Just thought to myself, "don't cry".
I'm hard on my skin, appearance, weight, what I'm convinced must matter to someone, thinking she'd notice I'm so much worse, so much paler and swollen with water, and she's looking to say, "I love them". Some reminding me, "I love YOU". So I looked too, later, and I decided, they must be something special. Or that she is, to look at them. Past the outside I hate.
I don't know why. Thin, I thought, made the best defense against everything. The more I hear "small, cute, faerie", the more "insecure, anxious, afraid" seem to melt. But I'm tired at the same time. I'm tired of strangers looking, looking over, being labeled before I can speak. Of opinions I never asked for, of cold, rude nurses and people asking if I eat dinner. It's same with sick and anemia, and the celiac I can't change. So it's iron pills and more sleeping, though it's lighter--the sleep--because I'm loved, like my eyes, and I'm sure of that now.
I want to get better more than anything. I will.
