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My Three Year Battle Of Weight Troubles

by Caroline
(Georgia)

When I was a small child, I was scary skinny. This was when I was about 6 to 9. around 10 to 12 i started gaining weight. My family started to notice. Of course, who would blame them? I was naturally skinny. Lots of fat was not common for me. My parents started asking about my weight. Even friends at school noticed. People would start calling my fat. Even my dad would call me chubby and fatty. Although he was joking, inside it tore me up. I disliked the fact of me being fat. Once I was about in the 6th grade, I started making myself throw up. I thought it would help me lose all my extra weight. I also never ate. I would drink lots of water to prevent my hunger to start kicking in. I would eat one thing a day. Like a small meal of pasta. I would then go in my room with a bag or bowl, lock my door, go in my closet, put depressing music on, slide my finger as far as it could go into my mouth, and throw up as much as I could. I played my music loud so my family would think I was just one of those teenagers who wanted to be apart and alone in their rooms with loud music booming from their walls. Most days, I wouldn't eat at all. My mom started noticing. She would watch me at diner. I didn't touch one single part of my food. Later the next day she asked why haven't I been eating. I told her I just wasn't hungry and having bad times at school. I would always walk away from her when she asked me and run upstairs to my room, and lock my door. It got to the point where she made me start eating. I rebelled from this. I did not like it. She started making threats to ground me and take away my things. So I started eating. I cleaned my plate every night. I made it that in her eyes, I was a hungry beast...

In reality, I would finish diner, then go up into my room, and made all my food come out. I would throw it all up until I couldn't do it again. Until my throat burst with pain, and my stomach was confused if my food was ever going to get to settle and digest. Never. I always said I would never allow myself to fully digest a meal. The only thing I would let go threw my body was liquids. My throat would tear up, my fingers were covered in scars from making myself throw up. It was awful. But this was for the first year of my bulimia. In the 7th grade, it was much worse. I started making myself throw up every day, like 5 times a day. Even if I didn't consume enough food to even throw up so many times. I started getting weak. I was satisfied. Even if I was harming my body. I thought that as long as I was skinny, I didn't care. Most days I got so hoarse, I could barely talk. And when I did talk, throw up was all in my breath. Even if i chewed gum or took a breath mint. My teachers noticed my weird appearance changes. I wouldn't even ask, but my teacher, (not saying his/her name) asked me to go to the nurse. I was confused. The nurse, after asking me a few questions and checking my throat and all, said she was going to call my mom. She asked me to wait in the front office with my things to go home. I was confused, but at the same time, I was happy. I was getting a free trip home. In my mind, but I was really going to have a serious talk with my mom...

What i didn't realize is that my mom went in my room, although I had locked it. She saw my secrets of vomiting and purging. So then she called my teacher, who then told the nurse, who then could check on me, find out that it was legit I was bulimic, and approved it to my mom I was more than possibly diagnosed with bulimia and to immediately be checked by a doctor. When my mom came to the school, she quickly checked me out and then drove home. She said I was to always be in her site until she made an appointment to the doctor and was checked. I didn't know at the time why she was doing this. She said I wasn't even going to go to school. I guess maybe she thought I was going to purge at school. Not at all. Too many witnesses. Just kidding. I did sometimes. She made me eat. And even when I went to the bathroom, she accompanied me. Yes, I found it awkward and uncomfortable. Mainly because at the time, I still had no idea what on the earth was wrong with her. She never told me. Later when I was going to bed, being watched by my mom all night. She would just sit and watch me, by the way. It was creepy. Anyways, it came to my senses that night that she knew! I woke up one day, like I think a week or two later, not sure. And she took me to the doctor. When we got there, she was whispering to the doctor. I guess she thought maybe I couldn't hear her, but I heard her loud and clear. She told him that she would leave him and me alone. That way I will confess it all. She knew that if she was there, I would not say a word about making myself throw up. She was right. But now that I knew what she was doing, I was considering not telling my doctor. I thought, and I thought it would be better if i told him. He knows what he was doing. So i told him everything. He told my mom. And I got help for it.

After a certain period of time, I was better. Or so I thought. 8th grade year. My mom got a job, and barely paid me any attention. And my dad? No job, but never paid me much attention anyways. This was my worst year. My older brother lived with me. But he was always on his computer. My other brother and sister moved out. So I was more alone and had more privacy. A rumor about me went at school. (i'm not saying what it was or anything about it for safety reasons) People started calling me names. I dropped out and became home schooled. I got depressed, started cutting myself, and worst of all...over eating.

But when I would eat, I would stare at myself in the mirror. Right when I finished eating, I made myself throw up. I purged about 10 to 15 time a day. Even when I wouldn't eat again, I threw up just as many times. Most times I would go a whole week without eating. I would still throw up on weeks like those. I got terribly skinny. I was in love with that. Like I said, I WAS. People started saying I looked troubled and off. Like I was mental. Why would any woman love to be THAT skinny? They would ask me. My response was always, models do it all the time. Considering the only chances to see my mom was on the weekends, and I would always go out with friends on purpose to avoid seeing her, my bulimia managed it's way to a bigger and badder condition

After two to three months, I realized this wasn't good for me. So, I would sit in my room and think. I finally came up with a plan to t try to be healthy. I would eat right and work out. What convinced me to stop most was throwing up blood and feeling week and dizzy. Sometimes I was so weak I could barely get out of bed. It took to me killing my body so mad to over come my obsession with making myself throw up. Sometimes in life though, you have to go through rough things to be much more successful. Now, I am in the 10th grade, and I am athletic, in sports, I eat healthy. I am more healthier I think, then I was before. So to this day, that is my motto. You have to fail, to succeed. It helps me live another day.

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Article by Shaye Boddington
Author of your-bulimia-recovery.com
and creator of The Bulimia Recovery Program and Community


The Bulimia Recovery Program