That was two summer ago. I was lying on the hardwood floor in the study, whimpering so hard that I couldn’t breath. I was crunched into a strange shape, my whole body was cramping. Tear wet my cheek, chin, hair, shirt and floor. One voice was haunting me, hovering over my brain over and over:
I am fat.
I gained more than 10kgs in the year before last summer. At first, it was normal. The stress from working in an investment firm, a lot of drinking and way too little exercise and irregular lifestyle put a few kilos on me. So as many girls, I started dieting. At first, it was even fun seeing my weight drop fast. Everyday I felt prettier, and I couldn’t wait till get on my scale to see the new achievements. But again, as many girls, it went wrong. I started the bad cycle: not eat at all for days, even weeks, then my brain and body cannot handle it anymore so I binge eat everything. Afterwards, I starve myself again out of guilt…
For one month, I didn’t consume anything solid. For the next month, I was eating bread and chocolate in the subway, walking, at office and in bed. Sometimes I ran to the supermarket nearby to buy a huge bag of bread out of burning urge, and started to stuff them into my mouth on the way home. Couldn’t wait that five minutes to get home. I remember the calories of most of food. I spend an hour wondering in a store, staring at food and labels, not being able to bring myself to buy anything.
I was becoming a monster. A slave of food.
After a couple cycles like this, before I realized, I reached the largest in my life. I couldn’t look into the mirror, yet I stepped on the scale every hour. I couldn’t see my friends because I was so ashamed. I couldn’t go shopping. I was angry at life. I was unhappy, and my weight, which was perfectly healthy according to medical standard, was crushing me, suffocating me.
The weight should be the lightest thing in our life, yet often becomes the heaviest burden.
Many things happened since then. New city, new school, new friends, new view from the window…My body as well as brain has slowly recovered, or so I hope. I still sleep with guys because my insecurity is eager for some validation. I still feel uncomfortable exposing my body. I still want to kill myself when looking into mirrors every now and then.
But, at least, now I am able to enjoy a decent dinner with my girls with a glass, oh well, glasses of wine.