I measured myself for the first time today.
The first time in two years. Since I lost all that weight and gained it this year.
I have looked at that measuring tape, watching it unravel. Like my life used to when I was 12.
You see, I was never big. Quite the opposite, ‘sweet and petite‘, my teacher once said.
But then we moved from Cape Town to PE and I entered the third Gate of Hell.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
My mother was coming out of a ten year relationship and when she could get out of bed, it was a good day. When she could talk to me without screaming, it was a rare day. Depression ft my single mom.
So I hated school and hated being home. I didn’t have the nicest friends.
So what was a girl to do but obsess?
One meal a day for me. Measuring tape to check my progress. I’d keep track via numbers on my thighs, my arms and my waist. Proportions are something I could control, I thought.
Alyx didn’t eat, and no one knew why.
I was a good student, had two friends, went to church but inside I felt like the emptiness made me strong. I could withstand hours. I was better than them.
It only occurred to me how unhealthy this all was when I was 22.
I knew it wasn’t right but my ED didn’t feel like the serious kind.
I was fine, right?
Until my best friend said, ‘I remember when you started eating again‘
Today I measured myself for the first time in two years and I did not cry.