Unhealthy Habits

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a stream of consciousness

Submitted: August 05, 2014

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Submitted: August 05, 2014

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How could I end up this way? Me and my sister, who was born prematurely, weighed seven pounds two. Not fat, actually underweight. Then I grow up and become fat. Why? I obviously don't have a glandular condition. I'd know. What with the amount of research I do into medical conditions. They fascinate me. They really do. Some people call me a hypochondriac but I'm not. I'm just somebody who does not like to be ignorant. I've written a comedy called The Hypochondriac Drama Queen. It's funny according to my friends. My friends have always been thinner than me. Thin as a pin and so they win. I lose. Loser! But I've always known I am. It's not fresh or exciting news. Most of the news in my life isn't exciting. It's dark and complex. At night it goes around and around in my head. And I can't sleep. At least that keeps the nightmares away. I have quite a lot of them. Like the many empty food wrappers in the binliner I conceal behind my cabinet. A secret I'm so ashamed of, and yet I can never hide it from myself. Like the lightbulb I have to look at so many times. As if it fulfills a higher purpose. Other than hurting me, my mind and my body. Mum used to hurt my body. She served huge portions of food for us to eat. We couldn't leave the table if it wasn't finished. She was a member of the clean plate club. And she was recruiting us. The food was sometimes burnt, or with coleslaw, which we didn't like, or with so much bread we felt bloated. Those were our family meals, where we were very full and quiet. No one wanted to upset Mum. The rage and the slaps and the throwing of items was enough to scare anyone. At that age I ate because I had to and through fear. Then it changed. I went from only enjoying Fish and Chips to loving food. Too much. I snacked. Snacked some more. Binged. It became my lifestyle. Age 13 I was nearly 9 stone and size 14. Then I got called chubby and told I needed to lose weight for my school trousers to fit. I cried that day. Then I pushed it out of my mind for a week. Then my sister mentioned the event. That was it. In the six week holidays I started trying to change. I swam a lot in the paddling pool, asking my Dad to tell me how many lengths I'd done. During one of the sessions I mistakenly said the content of fat in a certain packet of crips was 3kg. Although when I checked later it said 3g I decided I didn't want any fat in my diet. I wanted to be slim. To prove that I didn't have to be a chunky person. So I went cold turkey, completely cutting out snacks. Instead I ate satsumas. This made me feel I'd gained control over my diet. I felt good. But then I needed more control. I had to know the nutritional content of my food and I needed to eat less. I went down to eating two meals a day. Often this was a jacket potato and beans at school and a sandwich at home. Sometimes I dumped the sandwich because my Mum had made it and she added margarine. It was like she was my food enemy. She constantly looked at what I was eating and she would comment. I got some good comments at school, people noticing that I had lost weight. At that point I was 7 and a half stone. But still this one girl made comments. I'd be running and she would be like “That's right, burn that fat.” She once said: “When you get on the scales I bet they say nineteen stone.”My clothes were baggy, I was thinner, but it wasn't enough. I needed to lose more, eat even fewer calories. So I was looking forward to stopping at my Dad's during the summer holidays. Away from my Mum's hawk eyes and terrifying portions. I knew if I stopped at his I would get away with it. And so I did. The control felt great, eating, or should that be “not eating,” whatever I wanted. At 4pm I had my version of a ham sandwich, with Weightwatchers Danish Bread, no margarine and a slice of Ham, and at 8pm I would have the same. Only occasionally would I have anything varied, and it would always be very low calories, like this ready meal curry that had under 300 or a small portion of Chocolatey Squares, but mostly I consistently stuck with the ham sandwich twice a day. Once a day I'd go down to Mum's to play on the Wii for a compulsory 30 minute session. And I'd bake for them. Then go out because I didn't want to be pressured to eat some of what I'd made, or lectured about how thin I was. I had to shop in the children's section for clothes that fit, I fit in clothes for 8-9 year olds. But still when I looked in the mirror I was unhappy. I did not have body dysmorphia. I saw myself. I hated how my ribs stuck out and my non-existent breasts. But I liked my flat stomach. I wasn't me then. I had so little energy, I would just lie on the sofa. I wasn't interested in reading or doing anything really. I was Depressed. I thought if I was going to die I may as well die in my sleep. And soon to get it over with. Then one day I had enough. Looking in the mirror had horrified me, I thought I didn't look human. All of the trying so hard seemed pointless if I didn't like what the finished result was. 5 and a half stone and a wreck. And then I had a breakthrough moment and started my recovery. I shouted through to Dad: “Can you make me beans on toast please?” He always liked to cook. And he did. I tried to get better slowly. I was still obsessed with calories. Checking the content more than once of the food I was about to eat before I ate it. I had to have less than the suggested amount anyway, in case they had put too much of the product in because then I thought I'd get fat. But then... I just got overwhelmed. I was back at my Mum's, and her house had all of the food I'd deprived myself of. Looking back at some of the combinations I made for myself makes me feel sick. But it wasn't greed, not really, it was just savouring what I hadn't had for so long. I went back to school. I got loads of attention for being thin. I hated it. It was so shallow. People only seemed to care about me then. Suddenly the loner girl who hung out in the library and was practically ignored got the comments “You've lost loads of weight,” and the “How did you do it?” I even had an appointment arranged to see the school nurse about it. It was too much. And I ate too much. I just love food so much. I got back into the same habits. But when I gained weight people acted like it was a good thing, my family, my new friend and my teachers. So I let go. Now I'm here. FAT! FAT! FAT! And I hang around with really skinny, pretty girls. I didn't realise how big I was. Until I saw this picture of me on a night out. I looked pregnant (I don't normally look like that, I was bloated, but it showed that even before the bloated me I was still big) and I have decided I need to change. So I have bought this book about how to have a balanced lifestyle. I have decided it's not about unhealthy habits that make you fat or thin, it is about health and fitness. And being happy.


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