My Story

Hello, and welcome to my blog!

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve enjoyed being around food. I loved to help my grandmother, an excellent chef, prepare homemade pies and breads. I liked to help my dad polish off donuts and pizza when my brother and I visited him on Wednesday nights (my parents are divorced). But, I had no concept of nutrition and was overweight. At age 14, I became sick and tired of being “fat” as some kids deemed me and lost a lot of weight. I don’t really recall how much, but I vaguely remember going from 175 pounds to about 115 pounds- in two months. Scary, right? Well, as you can guess, I didn’t drop this weight in a healthful fashion. I was anorexic and basically stopped eating. I might have an apple and a bowl of cereal in a day or maybe some graham crackers and milk if I was feeling adventurous. My mom and dad stepped in and got me help. I saw a nutritionist and recovered.

Turn the clock ahead a few years to my sophomore year of college, and my problem reemerged. I relapsed. It’s hard to say what exactly brought it on, but I distinctly remember one key factor. One of my best guy friends liked to rate girl’s bodies at dinner in the cafeteria. A lot of the girls he called “big” were my size, and this completely freaked me out. I began many of the behaviors I displayed when I was sick in the attempt to lose weight. And so it all began again…

Over a few years, I got down to a very, very scary and sickly 90 pounds. I’m 5’8” and let me just tell you, a 90 pound 5’ 8” is not pretty. Beyond my physical appearance, I could feel myself destroying my body. I had constant pain in my chest, arms, legs, and hips. I was always cold. I lost my period. After a particularly scary incident, I remember lying in bed, my chest throbbing, thinking I was going to die and, yet, I still couldn’t make myself eat. It was horrible and, for anyone who has never experienced an eating disorder, I know, it makes no sense. And that’s what makes it precisely so terrible. You feel so alone. You feel so misunderstood.

But let’s fast forward to now. I am very happy. I am of a healthy weight. I no longer skip meals. I no longer fear a slice of pizza. I can exercise for enjoyment. I have beautiful toned legs and strong arms. I no longer feel as if I am killing myself. So, yes, recovery is possible. Trust me, I’m not fully recovered. I still struggle everyday to make sure I eat enough and maintain my weight, but that’s okay. I’m determined to stay healthy and take care of myself because, quite frankly, I want to live a very long time.