The Skull and Crossbone Warning

Appearance. One way to look at it is as the outward view people have of you that is manifested upon our exteriors. Curiously, it can also be a way that we can falsely portray ourselves to be visibly regarded one way, such as the pretence of an air of confidence hiding the inner turmoil of one’s mind. I find myself acting like a tediously broken record in saying that the society we live in is extremely judgemental; a dilemma likely to persist. Why is it that we will now find it acceptable to deem someone to be too tall or too small, beautiful or ugly… too fat or too skinny? By masquerading opinions as facts it creates a semblance of there being boundaries and limits whereby we can allow others to perceive people in such a way; this inevitably creates prejudice. I am not trying to pose as a prophet by preaching about our ‘inner beauty’- we are all shallow to some degree- but what may seem superficially pleasing to one, has the potential to appear in a contradictory fashion to another. We are not all set to employ conformity on what we find attractive- as attempted (and thankfully failed) by the Nazi’s Aryan race- and we should therefore embrace diversity. The discretion our culture once held over what would have been considered to be inappropriate to be spoken aloud has somewhat dissolved in the past few decades. The polite tactful comments we once would have made to one another upon the summoning of an unavoidably awkward conversation, have lost all their former subtlety. We will now verbally express every thought that crosses our mind, regardless of their impact or consequence. Diplomacy has all but disappeared to be replaced by a harsh bluntness, wreaking havoc on an individual’s self-esteem. It is little wonder that we therefore focus a lot of our attention on our self-image, especially in the meticulous depicting of what are actually our unique assets as flaws and blemishes.

We are all victims of self-objectification, which is the way we believe we are perceived through the eyes of an external observer. Alongside the evolution of a lack of sensitivity in our culture, it is easy to see how we can be tempted to follow down a detrimental path to the way we actually want to be identified; one of the many reasons which can lead to disordered eating. My substantial skills of restriction were not only vital for my Anorexia in making me emaciated, but in kerbing my true personality in a bid to want everyone to like me. My intense dissatisfaction due to what I saw were my failures led to intense anxieties when I was to perform a task that could hinder the way people viewed me- magnified by my depression. I dispensed a vast amount of energy in attempting to socialise and be amicable during this period, as I was obsessively vigilant and alert of every look I received from the public; this being especially challenging when I was working in retail 5 days a week. Paranoia was one of my biggest enemies, transforming almost any comment directed at me or any look thrown my way as one that was judgemental against my weight I would let it get to me and saw it as a personal insult, though I believed it was deserved. I was recently congratulated on how I ‘coped’ when I was at my worse, due to the acquisition of a dark humour. I would laugh off my disorder and make a joke of my skinniness in the hope that in making fun of myself, people would not find it necessary to make derogatory remarks- a habit I have not quite let go of. The false confidence I enveloped myself in however, did not serve to delude me in how miserable I really was but only pushed me to fight harder to hide it; I saw it as a further vulnerability. In this way, I appeared to be handling my disorder and even managed to fool many of those around me that I was in recovery or at least wanting to recover- it is almost laughable now at how far from the truth this was at the time.

 After losing what surmounted at my very worst to be a grand total of 13Kg from what was previously an athletically slender frame, I was distraught at the way I had destroyed my body. The only fitting description being I looked like a corpse. What accentuated the change in my appearance was the revolted stares and double takes people would make when I passed them in public- with someone even going as far as placing their fingers around my frail wrist to emphasise their puniness. The lack of discretion people held for me served as an excuse in my depressed state to remain inside, making no effort in the way I looked by abandoning my make-up regime (a dire transformation after having been previously unable to even answer the door without mascara) and even finding it gruelling to summon the motivation to have a shower and wash my hair. I believed there was no point in attempting to primp and prime myself when any beautification would be utterly ignored; the sole out-shiningly prominent feature under scrutiny was my horrifically bony body. I resolved to completely neglect myself due to a notion that I should be brutally punished for my failures and I was adamant in rejecting any form of personal indulgence. It typically became a vicious cycle; the worse I looked and the thinner I became, the more I would seek comfort from the Anorexia’s false sense of control. For a long time the thought of a UK size 6 (not a healthy dress-size for someone of 1.73m/5ft7.5) hanging off my hideously mutilated carcass, would send an overwhelming wave of anguish. The only way to rectify the damage would be weight restoration. During the bleakness I would question my desire to get better, I knew I was bitterly distressed by the way my body had been maimed by starvation, yet the sheer knowledge that eating density rich foods was the ‘simple’ solution, was an aspect I was not quite ready to accept. Any coaxing from other parties telling me it was my medicine went completely ignored. The tremendous relief achieved from being liberated of depression and finally successfully beginning to conquer my Anorexia, means I no longer dread the ever increasing numbers on my weighing-scales. In prevailing over the disorder I can will myself to see each gram that has been restored to its rightful place as an achievement.

My weight restoration has inevitably been responsible in making me look more wholesome, which has been accompanied by the gratifying compliments that have recently incessantly been made on how much healthier I appear. What makes the praise so much more fulfilling lies in the knowledge that my renewed glow is not just a façade; I am genuinely feeling a lot more triumphant and infused with a revitalised energy. It is shocking to think that though I still bear the evidence of having been malnourished, I have put on 3.5Kg since January when I started writing with the genuine desire for recovery. This slight but significant incline in weight has layered itself over my body to form a fuller face and the embarrassingly joyous reappearance of curvature to my bum. After the further weight loss following my relapse, I have managed to restore (and more) the precious pounds I lost to attain the weight I was last summer. I decided therefore to revisit the pictures that were taken of me on my summer holidays to see how I now compare to them. A picture is worth a thousand words. I find it needless to further add a commentary upon my reaction to the discovery of the pictures. I will let it speak for itself…

I am not proud of this picture. In fact I am on the verge of tears. What scared me to no end was that when I looked in the mirror, though I could clearly see my protruding bones, I was not aware of just how skeletal I looked. I can only once again put this down to a sense of denial about how viciously I had succumbed to Anorexia. When you observe a change day by day, it is virtually impossible to distinguish any alteration in appearance, especially due to the slow nature of recovery. It is only now that I can appreciate the value of each gram I have put on and I can therefore be proud in the knowledge that all my hard work against the plaguing voice in my head that I should revert back to my Anorexic habits, has had a positive outcome. These pictures are available on social networking sites where I have been discernibly ‘tagged’ and some could say that in posing for pictures when I looked so horrendous could be regarded as parading my body with pride. I will discount any such claims by saying that I was genuinely not aware of how hollowed out I had become, even my parents admitted they had become worryingly used to seeing me this way. I would be distraught to find out that people would use this picture as their own thinspiration, as it would go against every target I am trying to achieve by writing this blog. I therefore urge everyone to see the picture for what it truly is- a warning of how savage Anorexia is and how merciless it is in taking your life.

Enlarging the way I viewed myself in the mirror was not as some may feel it fit to describe as body-dysmorphia. Admittedly, I did see myself to some degree as larger than I was, but this was due to my denial as opposed to exaggerating my appearance to the extent where I was seeing myself as fat.  The irrational enlargements were not reserved to my body image, but also to portion sizes. Everything in my plate appeared to me to be magnified considerably, seeing an ever increasing amount of food in my plate with each treacherous mouthful I was forced to take. For me it has only been by writing it down that I have a physical proof of having truly been ill- I still get an overwhelming shock when I remember the extent of my disorder. I am fully appreciating what recovery has enabled me to achieve. There had been a point where I couldn’t even sit in front of the TV for 5 minutes and give it my full attention before fanatically focusing on food. I believe that this is where my need to eat slowly really took hold; the longer I took to eat, the less time I had to fantasise about food and crave it between meals. I would find any substantial period without food tortuous by being so famished that the thought of food would engulf me. I developed a way to satiate this hunger by chewing gum immediately after I would finish a meal, though this only served to bloat me up (not bad in my Anorexia’s eyes). I am moving forward in life and I am starting to allow myself to enjoy treating myself to the occasional indulgence. You only live once so why should I deny myself of all joys in life? I have found solace in the slow return of my former figure, letting my mind be at peace for the first time in a very long time.