At age 12, I survived incest and a lot of bullying, which led to the development of an eating disorder. My body became my own personal battleground and all I wanted to do was disappear.
I am a recovering anorexic, and this is my story. I've thought about it every day since I was 16-years-old. I've analyzed it, dug deep for its root, and cried over its reality.
And yet, sometime between now and adulthood, they, too, will stop being delighted by cake and learn to fear it. Rather than taking a big piece and loving it, they'll ask for a tiny slice and beat themselves up about eating it.
My whole life, I was called a picky eater, but I was always assured that I would grow out of it. My parents had both been "picky" (according to my grandparents), but like most children, they had grown out of it. As a kid, I believed that eventually, that would happen for me too. Until it just didn't.
I worry for the girls out there who are like I was -- who are suffering from the same self-esteem issues that most teenagers do and are being told they are ugly not only by their teasing peers, but by adults around them who are crusading for change.
How does one go about an interdisciplinary project spanning art and science? How might this look? we set out to explore how mental health advocacy, video game design, and documentary filmmaking could come together to enhance understanding and fight stigma about mental illness.
"Who cares? It's our kitchen on a Monday night. I love you and I want to touch you and have you be excited about that. Is that so wrong?" He is starting to back away, the grooves on this path worn in a rut we fall into so easily.
There is so much misunderstanding of this complex disorder that I am going to bring you into the mind of a person in the depths of the disorder. You will never view the disorder in the same way after reading this.
Being part of a community that lifts up the message "God made me, and he doesn't make anything bad" appears to help moderate the impact of the "body loathing" promoted by popular culture, said sociologist Andrea Henderson of the University of South Carolina, lead researcher in the study.
Instead of worrying about being laughed at or worrying about disgusting others, I should have worried about loving my wife. Because it is not disgusting. It is not gross. Love is love.
An eating disorder is so terribly miserable, I would not even wish it on my worst enemy's cousin's tarantula. But over half of my life has been defined and ruled by this insidious illness, and as devastating as it has been, it has ultimately changed my life in a way for which I can only be thankful.
I have had issues with food all my life, dating back to when I was a little girl. For me, it always has been and unfortunately still is "the binge" part of binging and purging that I have perfected.
Sitting there, feeling my emotions spinning crazily out of my control, I was struck by the lightning bolt notion that I might have an eating disorder. The idea that I might not know my own mind well enough to detect denial formed a dark, scary rabbit hole, and my emotions were sucked into even more anxiety.
Today, altered images of girls and women (presumably men, too) depicting bodies shapes that are unattainable and unhealthy are used to sell everything from bikinis to lipgloss.
The body image, air-brushing, magazine-coverage stuff is inevitably hypocritical, boring and small. It's on a loop and it's going nowhere. Reading the mainstream "women's press," you'd think the biggest problem facing us today was the fact that "real" women appear airbrushed in glossies.
We need to teach young girls that self-worth is more important than face value and beauty starts from within. The first measure of being beautiful is not based on how you look to others, but on how you look at yourself