I was never a heavy person, but at 14, I was 5’8’’ and 160 lbs. Sounds big, I know, but I was a competitive swimmer and full of muscle. I used to eat whatever I wanted; I swam seven days a week so I had a good balance…I wasn’t heavy, but not stick thin, and I was happy with the way I looked. But when I abruptly quit swimming as a rebellion against my father, I realized that my eating of whatever I wanted had to come to a hault. I couldn’t snack on McDonalds Chicken Nuggets if I wasn’t spending two hours a day in a pool.

It started gradually…not sitting with my parents at the dinner table because I was upset, throwing lunches out that my mom made me at school, and making subtle attempts at lessening my food intake. Eventually, I narrowed it down to eating one single Pop-Tart or small sandwich a day…any single item with enough nutrients to get me through.

I also started stationary biking every day as a way to add exercise to my already starved body. I biked around 8 miles a day and did 400 crunches, so any food intake I did have was quickly wasted away by burning these calories. If I needed a boost to keep myself going, I’d pop a few sugar candies.

In three months, I dropped from 160 lbs, a healthy size 10, to 120 lbs, and a very unhealthy looking size 2. Still, at a size 2, I thought I was fat; I would constantly study my body in the mirror, picking out all the imperfections, seeing all the flaws and not paying attention to my good parts. No matter how many times people would tell me to eat, that I was too thin, that I was underweight, that I didn’t look normal, I kept pushing myself harder, eating less and less. This continued for about a year.

The epiphany came when I saw a picture of myself and noticed how horrendous I looked. My head was ginormous, my face was sunken, pale and gaunt and my body looked like I was a flat, underdeveloped 10 year-old. It hit me in a way that I can’t describe (plus, seeing a therapist for my parents’ divorce helped me put the pieces back together) and I knew I had to make a change.

I started to eat on a healthier, more regular basis. I’ve never been a compulsive snacker, but I had to get used to eating normal, balanced meals again. My metabolism was all messed up; I gained weight back twice as fast and twice as much.

Now, in my mid-20’s, I have a healthy relationship with food. I still work out; I’m a runner who works out 4-6 times a week, but I eat whatever I want, within reason. My metabolism is back to normal, and so am I. At a healthy size 6, I know how to treat my body, respect its right to be hungry and allow myself to indulge.

Eating disorders are much more prevalent than a lot of people think. Have you ever been through something like this?

[image from jupiterimages]

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