It didn't start out as anything major, I was simply starting to not eat as much as I used to. "Counting calories," I would tell myself, "that's all this is." At the time, I was not denying myself food, in fact, I was continuing to eat everything I liked, from chicken tenders to burgers and beer. I was feeling great as if I could finally enjoy my meals without feeling guilty afterward, and only because I went from having three meals a day, to one meal in the middle of the day. To me, this seemed normal. My logic was simple, if I have one big meal in the middle of the day, I will have enough energy for the evening and rollover energy for the morning." Looking back, I don't understand how someone did not punch some sense into me, because it is obvious that I was simply making excuses to hide behind the fact that I have slowly stopped eating.

With weeks passing, I began noticing my pants fitting just a smidge loser, and my thighs getting smaller. This observation was what jumpstarted my going down the rabbit hole. Can you believe this? A pair of jeans and my obsession with the mirror were the starting points of my eating disorder, and that just shows how engraved into society being thin has become. Soon after, I wasn't just eating once a day anymore, but with every day I made an attempt to eat less than I did the day before. Eager to see a flatter stomach and thinner figure the following morning. What is 'hunger' to some, that quenching feeling at the bottom of your stomach, became a sense of comfort and accomplishment for me. I couldn't go to bed without wanting that feeling, I soon started craving the emptiness in my stomach as opposed to actual food.

Months have passed, the scale now reads about twenty pounds lighter, and as wonderful as it feels to look thin and feel thin, I cannot help but have a hatred of all foods. I have reached a point where I barely eat anything in a day, enough to have fainted and lost consciousness. The sight of food makes me nauseous, and an immediate feeling of guilt and remorse wash over me, even if I haven't even touched the said food. Almost as if on instinct, my body simply hates food. For someone who used to turn to food for comfort and enjoyment, not even being able to look at food without wanting to cry and walk away, is a low point. Without even knowing, I have let myself become enemies with food, and with my body. I am no longer able to go out to dinner with my friends, or lunch dates with my boyfriend, or even a late night ice cream run. I have broken myself from the inside out and it shows.

You do not have to be fifty pounds lighter and have every bone showing to have an eating disorder. I learned that the hard way.