**Names have been changed

In a survey conducted by the National Eating Disorders Association, eating disorders within college populations have risen to 32% among women and 25% among males since 2008. While that may not seem very drastic, allow me to put it into perspective.

According to a national census there were approximately 21.0 million college students enrolled in universities in fall of 2014, with a male-female ratio of about 51-49 across the board and 43.6–56.4 in public schools. Statistically, that means that there are about 3.29 million collegewomen and 2.67 million men suffering from an eating disorder.

While this may not be entirely reflective of the population, because exact numbers are darn near impossible, it is still an extremely high number. I want you to think of that friend you have who mysteriously runs to the bathroom after every meal because she "has to pee." I want you to think of that guy you know who is so obsessed with his body image that all he talks about is his reflection, and his meals are so regimented that something just feels wrong.

Eating disorders seem far-fetched and removed from the immediate social scene, but I guarantee you that they're far more prevalent than we realize. We must start paying attention.

When I began writing this piece, I really wanted an insider's perspective. I wanted to hear the emotional side of the issue, not just the numbers. When *Stacy shared her story with me, I got to see what it's like to live with an eating disorder. Below is her first-person account.

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I guess I'll start this off by saying that I'm not fat. I never really have been. I'm actually kinda average to be honest. Not in a bad way, just in a...normal way.

I can't really pinpoint when it all started. If I had to specify a time period in my life, I'd say late high school is when things started to go downhill. Cliche, right? Yeah, I know.

My best friends have always been gorgeous. In middle school they grew into their bodies and became beautiful women who hardly needed a smidge of makeup to look like a super model. At first I didn't care, I'd always been the chill one anyways. Eventually it began to take its toll and I started to notice how plain I was in comparison.

In my senior year of high school I started to notice that my hips were a lot wider than the mass majority of the women I surrounded myself with. I became incredibly self-conscious and eventually couldn't even wear shorts in public. That's when I started my intensive exercise regimen.

I would go to the gym everyday - sometimes more than once - and exercise until I could barely walk. I was intent on toning up and making my body smaller. Then the dieting started.

I noticed that the exercise alone wasn't bringing about a change in my body at the rate that I wanted, so I incorporated a ridiculously disciplined diet that made it virtually impossible for me to dine out at restaurants, eat dinner at my friends houses, or do anything within the realm of normalcy around food. I would bring my own meals everywhere and spend upwards of $175 a week to plan out my strict diet.

I lost 25 pounds in a month and a half. It was also incredibly unhealthy to lose that much in such a short amount of time. My friends became worried because I was so focused on my exercise and diet that I lost interest in virtually everything else, and I would lash out and scream at those who voiced their concern.

One day I was feeling particularly sad. I don't even think I had a reason, but I just felt awful. My mother had recently gone shopping and bought a ton of junk food for my older sibling, and it was sitting on the counter. I decided that one bag of chips wouldn't be the end of the world, so I ate one. Then another. Then another. Then an entire box of Safeway cookies. Then an entire box of pizza pockets. I ate and ate until I made myself sick. It was like my hands and mouth had control of my body, and my conscious clocked out for two hours. I lost control.

I hated myself. For the next few days I hardly ate anything and damn near starved my body. Then I got back on to the crazy diet and started the strict exercise routine once more. A week later, I lost control again. I ate so much that I got sick and thought I had food poisoning. I don't know why... it just happened. It was like I had no control.

This circle of events began to become a pattern in my life. I would diet and almost starve myself, then eat to the point of illness. Over and over and over.

It got to the point where I couldn't even look into a mirror without hating myself. Every morning I woul wake up and do "body scans," which is where you stand infront of your mirror and analyze, harshly critique and categorize parts of your body. I would create goals for myself that involved strict fasting and dieting rituals to make myself lose more weight. Then I'd lose control and eat to the point of sickness. Over and over and over. It consumed my life.

Then one day I started to notice that I was feeling super faint and weak. Working out became incredibly hard, and my eating habits were irregular and physically harmful. I fainted in class and ended up having to go to the hospital. They said that I was so weak and damaged from my self-destructive eating habits that I had almost shut down my system. I was low in almost every crucial vitamin and my body was having trouble sustaining my harmful lifestyle.

I ended up going to a psychiatrist who told me that I had what was known as "bulimia nervosa," categorized by recurring episodes of binging and purging. It had caused an electrolyte imbalance and severe dehydration, which pushed my body to the brink of disaster.

A lot of people would say that I brought the disorder on myself, but I don't necessarily agree with that mindset. I think that the pressure to fit the stereotypical "beauty" mold that profiles a thin, semi-curvy construct that is almost impossible to recreate for the average person caused me to harm myself this way.

It's the same for women who are naturally thin. They have this overwhelming pressure to somehow grow hips and big boobs, which makes them feel awful about themselves. It's a terrible environment to be in.

Eventually I got on anti-depressants and turned my behavior around. I workout in a healthy way and maintain a safe, loose and healthy diet. I feel good, and I've learned to love my hips. And damn if I can't rock a pair of booty shorts!

To all the women and men out there who have suffered from something similar, believe me when I say that it'll get better. If I can do it, so can you. You're beautiful, and don't let anyone let you believe anything different.