Today, these memories act as preventative medicine for my mind as I am constantly bombarded with superficial images of anorexic models portrayed as sex symbols. When I see the skin and bones of models, I no longer feel the envy, because I actively focus on remembering the pain I felt to achieve this.
Not one of the many specialists that I visited wanted to recognize that I was clearly struggling with an eating disorder. Eventually, when all else failed, I was diagnosed with "runners' hematuria" -- blood in the urine -- from running too many miles. "It happens to marathoners all the time," one doctor said dismissively. "It makes perfect sense."