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…
