My darkest years

When I was around fourteen or fifteen years old, I began to wonder what it would be like if I was skinnier and could look like one of those models you see on the cover of Vogue, so I began to cut down on my meals, but food quickly became my enemy and it got out of control.


Though I was a healthy weight and height for my age at seven and a half stone, (Doctors words) I still felt fat. Not fat FAT but more fuller than I wanted to be. I began to skip meals, especially breakfast but only because I was always getting up late for school, I didn't have time to eat breakfast.

Dinner was not so good either as the queue in the school canteen to eat felt like miles so I would just pick at my friends food instead. The bad thing about skipping my dinners was that the school could record what I was eating due to a finger scanner when you are paying for your food; my Mum found I wasn't eating and lectured me – I wouldn't listen. My Step-Dad then started making me lunches but I wouldn't eat it and would throw it away.

It didn't help that I had braces – not the normal type of braces, but blocks in my mouth to help with my over-bite. These braces made it very hard to eat with and so I wouldn't eat solids properly and I felt like everyone was staring at me whilst I was eating – anxiety took over then and there.

My parents noticed that I was losing a lot of weight, and I did, I lost a stone. Then being six stone, I thought I looked great. There was no fat on me, you could see my six pack, surprisingly my boobs grew to a size 30DD/F (varied during my menstrual cycle), my butt was firmer, and I just felt amazing. Feeling amazing in my body made me ignore the fact I was extremely unhealthy. People say 'love is blind' and it is bang on. I loved my body but the ghost of real life saw that I was unhealthy and should start to diet. A healthy diet no doubt.

A year went by and my parent's were getting extremely cautious with me around food. I remember telling my mum that I wanted to eat but my stomach wouldn't let me. Her facial expression was crossed with shock and confusion, so she sat me down later on and asked if I was anorexic. I was in denial, I didn't want to think it was a possibility – my iron levels were also extremely low and I was put on vitamins. Turns out I was not anorexic, but close to it and close to anaemia. I was lucky.

In my last year of high school I finally realised I was not healthy, I began to try and eat properly but it just was not working, it was as if I was petrified of food putting even an ounce of fat on me and I would turn fat quick. Fat was my worst nightmare – maybe this is why I am a little Fattist.

I met someone just after my sixteenth birthday and felt too busy with the boyfriend - who shall not be named - to have proper meals. I would have simple super noodles or pot noodles every now and then, but I would also have a small portion of pasta thinking I would be able to substitute proper meals. Then, the only food I would eat was noodles and pasta. It is great food for everyone's body but living on it was not good for me – I wasn't putting on the weight I needed too.

My size 4 clothes began to get lose around my waste and my pants needed adjusting tighter as my hip bones didn't have any fat on them. The only thing that I was happy with on my body were my breasts, thigh gap, collar bones and firm ass. I felt like a million pounds being this skinny but I knew it was wrong. I tried eating and was encouraged by all my friends and boyfriend to eat better, I was starting to gain the weight back on.

A year and two months later, I broke up with the boyfriend who shall not be named, my so-called friends abandoned me and everything spiraled out of control. I then wouldn't eat and would live off a big bag of sour skittles everyday. Normal food made me feel sick again and I would only eat skittles. Drinking a Litre of Boost everyday didn't help either because then I suffered excruciating water and kidney infections. I would cry all day scrunched up in a ball, sweating, in agony and needing my mum to comfort me. I couldn't cope.

My life felt like it was ending - I am not exaggerating. I lost the weight I gained, I lost the boyfriend that I thought I loved (who was an arse hole by the way (Love is blind and all that,)) my kidney infections were agonisingly painful, and I felt useless. Anxiety was really taking it's toll on me.

Though I was in College at this time, I also bagged myself a Saturday job at a Tattoo Studio, but it still didn't take my mind off the break up. In the Tattoo shop, I also skipped every meal and lived off cups of tea, again, I lost more weight. I was going insane, I couldn't cope with all the illnesses that were coming with the weight loss.

Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) was my next illness. From not eating and having so much stress, it took a toll on my internals. Every time I was stressed, I would get horrible stomach cramps and my bowel movements were irregular (TMI, sorry.) I felt like everything was getting worse by the day and I began to think this was it. This was me. I was too skinny, getting ill, single and I couldn't do anything about it. I was failing – I felt empowered.

A breakdown started, I was turning into a brat for attention. I needed attention. I started dating guys, some good some bad, some I should never had gone near. It had gotten so bad I slept with my ex's best friend to get back at him for treating me the way he did. (See Archives.) One guy mislead me, he was so friendly and would make me feel better about myself and we ended up seeing each other. The thing was, he had a girlfriend and I knew who she was – we used to be friends back in primary school. He didn't tell me until a few weeks later.

Though I felt bad, I felt a rush of excitement of being with someone else's bloke even though I knew it was the worst thing I could do. Everyone knew it was wrong and eventually I ended the dating, luckily we never did anything (you know what I mean) and his girlfriend understood. I never saw him again.

Depression hit along side the anxiety after this. I started to feel I was worthless, like no one liked me not even my friends, that I wouldn't ever be able to put weight back on, that I was unlovable, like I wasn't ever going to be appealing to the opposite sex. Hurting myself was the only way out. Pain felt good. I never cut myself with a knife but I would find other sharp objects, especially nail scissors, to score my skin on the back of my hand. Everything felt dark around me.

Luckily, that depression faze passed after my parents and friends talked to me about everything, and I began to get myself together and concentrate on my life, Diploma course work and my lifestyle.

I started eating a little better and gaining some weight but not enough. Feeling stronger, I felt better about myself and more healthier – I was beginning to be happier about myself and figure. Though the bones were still showing, I still felt like the food was doing me good.

A few months later I started talking to a friend of my twin's who she was trying to get to know and one day hope to date. Thing is, after talking to him and flirting, he went off Hayley and started to flirt with me – one thing lead to another. I know, it was cruel, vicious and utterly disgusting, but I liked him.

I ended the dating with him a short while later.

In January 2013, I met Daniel at a girl's football match. We dated for a few months and we did everything together, my parents liked Daniel and his parents liked me. He made me feel safe, loved and good about myself – he did notice that I was too skinny and unhealthy, but he always told me I was beautiful even if when I didn't believe him; he helped me get back to a healthy weight.

Daniel forced me to eat by sitting near me, not letting me move until I had eaten everything on my plate no matter how long it took and I felt like I was being punished. At that moment I didn't realise he was saving my life. I couldn't be more thankful to Daniel and he knows how much I appreciate his constant nagging for me to eat.

This past year and a half, I have put on the right amount of weight and I am now healthy. Though it took a long time to gain the weight I desperately needed, I have finally hit my goal. I am back to my seven and a half stone weight.

Some days I do look at myself and think I am fat or a little podgy here and there, but I know that I only need to tone up - not diet. Some days I miss my skinny bony body but I remind myself that my body now is healthy, and if I went back to the six stone I was, I would struggle all over again.

I still skip breakfast and dinner when Daniel is at work, but that will always be a habit for me. If I don't feel hungry, I won't eat.

Food is still a struggle for me, but I am getting there. I will one day be happy to eat three meals a day and feel good about my body once again. Some days I still feel like hurting myself but I have gotten stronger and can control those bad feelings from empowering me; I brush them away and write down my thoughts in a little book. I feel like it makes me feel more relaxed once I have gotten all my thoughts and feelings down on paper. This book is hidden in my flat and has never been read by anyone except Daniel.


My darkest years still haunt me.

Much love,



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