#it never stuck me as disordered eating because I’m fat and don’t think I need to be skinny. maybe that’s why I have vitamin deficiencies.

[icterid-rubus]

I left a huge rant in my drafts about what a horrible go of it I had lately and how terrible my mental health is, but it’s made me realize something kind of startling that’s freaked me out. I’ve stopped eating unless it’s something I’ve contributed to financially or with labor because I’m so stressed about cash.

When I went east to stay with family and help them move, I would only eat peanut butter and bread unless we had dinner together, and then I would only have one serving. My uncle felt disappointed I didn’t ever drink with them, and I explained I wanted to be a sober driver, which was true, but more than that I simply didn’t want to run up anyones tab or drink their expensive beverages, so I only had water.

And I’ve been doing that at home ever since I lost my job. Normally, I don’t eat anything except the dinner I cook for everyone. Now during quarantine I turn down offers of food and have been eating airplane snacks I stashed in my bag.

Which is all so stupid to do when I’m lucky to have a safety net such as this that is offering to feed and house me. A lot of people don’t have that. But I can’t do it. I feel sick to do it.

[beazt]

I got an ad on YouTube the other day, and maybe if my circumstances were different I would’ve watched the whole ad so I could pinpoint more harmful parts about it. I skipped most of it.

but the part I did see said almost verbatim “constipation can make skinny women feel plus size.” but I think it may have used the phrase “stuck poop” instead of constipation. I can’t find any accessible version of the ad, so I’m hoping they fucking rethought it and pulled it.

some of my general thoughts, admittedly without poring over my wording for perfection and tone:

1) I generally do not give a fuck if a skinny person “feels fat” from constipation. 2) softening the blow using the word “plus size” isn’t the progressive look you think it is. 3) can we please for the love of everything fucking holy stop centering the skinniest women in conversations and experiences of fatness. 4) this may get my head blown off but constipation making you look a bit bloated =/= you look fat. if you think mild bloating is the same as looking fat I’m inclined to suspect you don’t look at fat people very much.

(these next 2 points get no further discussion in this iteration of the post because I am fucking tired, others can add discussion of these as well as any other points I’ve left out)

5) why is “looking fat” the most important factor making you want to relieve the constipation. 6) the marketing of this is definitely going to fuel disordered laxative abuse

more in depth discussion below

1) if you ever go into intensive eating disorder treatment like I have been, you will get exhausted of hearing the phrase “fat isn’t a feeling.” it’s often either A) a fear of fatness or B) disgust and/or shame about perceived fatness. both of these need to be worked on on an individual and cultural scale. I’m not saying there’s never a reason to fear it— but I rarely ever see anyone skinny’s fears align with the most harmful results of fatphobia— medical negligence, inaccessibility, “fat tax” where necessary items don’t exist or are much more expensive, etc. And i’m not going to put the qualifier of “maybe they just don’t talk about that part” because when I was in my 7 months of intensive ED treatment, none of the providers in the facilities knew how to handle those fears and trauma that caused my ED as a way to escape them— some of them hadn’t even realized those were widespread issues.

and yes, the more prominent fears and shame surrounding fatness are often based in reality of how fat people are treated, and indicate major societal and internalized fatphobia. but the internalized parts can be worked on, and the societal parts can be worked on at an individual scale, and way too many people will fight tooth and nail to be able to further demonize fat people rather than address those biases or get involved with fat liberation. and that makes fat liberation a lot more difficult and directly contributed to the harm towards those of us who are already fat. thus, I do not have much sympathy on a population-scale for skinny folks who express they “feel fat.”

2) I despise the phrase “plus size” because no one ever advertises “straight size” clothing by that name or calls themselves “straight size” outside of specific clothing contexts where “plus size” is already involved. using that phrase here absolutely reinforces the idea that skinny=normal/default and fat=abnormal/anomaly while simultaneously reducing us to an ambiguous, impersonal, mass-marketable clothing size range. not to mention that “plus size” can mean anything including “you aren’t wafer thin and 5’0.” it’s performative and pretty antithetical to reducing fatphobia in this usage if you ask me, I highly highly doubt they were including any sort of reclamation of the term “plus size” here since they’re painting it as an undesirable trait

3) this is slowly changing I think but nearly every conversation about fatphobia that isn’t started by fat folks either starts as “but it’s so harmful when skinny people get seen as fat even if it’s just body dysmorphia :(“ or frequently the rest get derailed into “it’s hard to be skinny too!!” and/or the above sentiment. I’m tired of that. there are conversations you can be included in but why don’t you amplify voices of folks well above your size and those with intersecting marginalizations ever, instead of making every single conversation about you?

4) just clarifying here but if you’re constipated enough to change your size significantly enough for you to be considered fat and this is frequent/consistent enough to affect your daily life… you probably want to get that checked out if you can. your intestines will thank you. if there’s no easy solution to help your gut, really think about how you can join in with us who are already fighting for fat liberation. reflect on why you think this is a unique experience that others you from the “actual fat people” that you are assuming are fat for the “wrong reasons” and why you are desperate to consider yourself not fat. everyone else who is complaining about some moderate temporary bloating making them feel fat idk what else to say to you.

and of course a lot of this ties into ableism and racism and misogyny, like much of fatphobia does, I want to acknowledge and emphasize that none of this is in a vacuum, but I’m just too tired to make this post any longer at the moment to dissect the interplay of those topics… you see where I’m going. it’d take me a chapter of a book to analyze everything I want to about this commercial and I simply am not in good enough physical or mental shape to do that right now. so im just throwing out what I can spout off the top of my head. it’s just a blog post from some rando, set your expectations.

[needtobeskinnyxx]

I’m back again. This worthless state of which I am consumed of the thought of how obese I am. Every bite I take or don’t take suffocates me and sends me into the so annoyingly inevitable spiral of over thinking every calorie I ate that week. I don’t need help because it’s not even an eating disorder, but am I just made to think that because society has normalised 16 year old girls crying every night in the mirror to the point we can’t even fully enjoy a dinner with their family anymore is normal. why I’m so fucking mad at myself at everything because why the fuck could I not have just been born like those other girls. I look at my self in the mirror and I internally feel disgusted but the voices in my head are telling to purge. Why me? Why am I the fat friend, why am I the ugly friend? It is just so fucking exhausting. I don’t want help because if I quite I’m never going to achieve my goal but what if that goal keeps getting higher and more unattainable as my mind glorifies and romantizise the idea of a dead looking 20 year old addicted to heroin. I know I need to get out before it’s too late but I have quite everything else in my life but until the validation I need is fulfilled, I’m stuck clinging to the cold bars inside a cell with 90s anorexic models and photoshopped girls I can’t help myself but to compare to. it’s grown into an obsession, it’s not depressing but I finally have something to be truely happy about again; my old friends took that away from me and now I have nothing to be excited about in life anymore apart from that Sunday morning when I finally see that scale go down; genuine happiness infests my body.

[h0ll0w3d0ut]

in hindsight, my ed was bound to happen from birth.

i was born a sick kid, nothing serious but it meant i was extremely underweight from birth to around 14 years old. even after that i was still technically underweight.

it was like a character trait for me. i was the “small” kid, the “skinny” kid. people would tell me to eat, comment on how light i was, and i didn’t even have to try. basically i was living the ed dream but at an age too young to comprehend it.

avoiding food was literally the last thing on my mind. i had a lot of dietary requirements and as a result grew up on very low cal/diet food since i couldn’t have stuff like gluten, eggs or dairy. i literally hated it, i remember being so jealous of other kids at school who could eat something as simple as white bread.

then came puberty. i obviously gained weight and grew, as everyone does. i didn’t think much of it because again, body image/food issues were the last thing on my mind throughout my childhood, so why should i care now? well with puberty also came the discovery that i had outgrown a lot of my food allergies. i saw this as a massive win, i could finally eat like other kids.

i started going to the corner store, buying pints of ice cream, boxes of chips, lollies and chocolate. my diet slowly became absolute trash because i grew up on bland diet foods. then came more weight.

i do want to mention here that i never became overweight. i have always been either underweight or on the low end of “normal”. however because of my low birth weight and health issues, the way my weight gain was distributed was extremely unflattering to me. as you can imagine, so much sugar went straight to my stomach and thigh area, however my arms and legs were still extremely skinny. i was definitely self conscious of it, but i don’t think i became truly aware of just how much it affected me until people started commenting on it.

“you look kind of fat from this angle”. that one stuck. i think the tipping point was when i got weighed by my gp when i was around 16. i never weighed myself as i’d never been concerned about my weight, i only ever got told by the doctor. as far as i was concerned, i was still going with the numbers i was given at age 12. i remember when she weighed me that day i was shattered. i realised i wasn’t the “skinny” kid anymore, just because i was at a healthy weight.

i had never had an unhealthy relationship with food or weight until then. i loved being the skinny girl, i loved the attention, and the second i started gaining completely healthy and normal amounts of weight, i flipped. being skinny was my identity.

i don’t think i need to explain the rest, as many of you have probably been there. i discovered calories, bmi, energy drinks, fasting and now here we are.

of course i’m not saying all people who are born in my condition will be disordered, as i have many other mental issues and self-destructive addictions that no doubt contributed to that fact. but when i look back at my childhood, i can’t help but wish i could have that again.

[lucysweatslove]

Weight update.

TW/CW: weight, eating disorders, measurements, body checking, etc. (under a read more to reduce unintentional triggering)

Because of the Brazil trip coming up next year in which I’ll be in a wedding, not just attending, I’ve been feeling a little insecure about my body and thinking about attempting to change my body’s aesthetics (you know… size). I gained legit 15-20lbs or so after I recovered from COVID, and part of that is that it’s hard to accept my “new body” because of internalized fat phobia, but also my old clothes don’t fit well and I am worried about what people think or say behind my back and the struggles that I may have with access to appropriate medical care in this body. It’s really tricky to navigate any attempt at weight loss/fat loss with my ED history, since I can slip back into disordered patterns super easily. I shared some of my concerns with Husband who said he would support me in my goals “so long as I do them in a healthy manner.” So I think he’ll be looking out for me too.

My current plan is to just focus on doing some basic light home exercises trying to avoid triggering a back spasm + some gentle cycling during the week + hiking as weather allows on the weekend. Really just some simple/not too intense movement that I enjoy about 5 times a week, maybe 6 if I want to take a walk. I have set Wednesdays to be a full rest day, no just a “not lifting” day or “active recovery” day but a day to focus on a) work, b) home care, and c) other aspects of self-care. My back spasms limit me from going really hard which is a bit of a built-in check to reduce risk of exercise purging or over-training.

Nutrition wise, I’m a little stuck on the best approach. I’m trying to shift mindset from “where can I cut calories to facilitate energy deficit and weight loss” to “where can I incorporate more produce and nutrient-dense foods?” But, I’m also trying to focus on getting enough of each macronutrient too, and ensuring a more balanced approach throughout each meal and throughout the day. Basically, all of my past “go to” behaviors I’m actively trying to challenge- calorie saving until the evening, avoiding added sources of fats (like nuts, full fat salad dressings), avoiding all full-carb “carby” foods (like only using Carb Balance tortillas or diet bread), meal skipping, relying on protein bars for meals, stuff like that. I’m also making the conscious effort to still eat meals that Husband prepares for us. Admittedly at the moment I AM food tracking. I’m not sure if this will need to be stopped, but if I have a detailed log, I can easily show it to healthcare professionals if they have any doubt about how I’m eating. I am using it as a bit of a crutch for nutrition too. I’m very actively trying to make sure I’m meeting macronutrient AND micronutrient goals throughout the day (as in, not getting too little), and tracking helps put my mind at ease. That said, I am trying to be flexible and estimate when I don’t know for sure (eg, local coffee shop orders, food Husband prepared, stuff like that). Im also trying to be flexible about not eating every food item if I’m full and not worrying too much about how I will track that. Example: Saturday’s scrambled eggs were loaded with spinach and mushrooms and I just made a little too much. I never finished it. I saved it for later, but later I just wanted toast, so I threw away the eggs and ate the toast. In days past, I would’ve forced myself to finish what I had already tracked or like, obsessively separated out the spinach, eggs, mushrooms, and sausage from the scramble and weighed them all separately to determine how much I had “actually” consumed which is… yeah super disordered. Not doing that now. And I’m trying to not care so much if Husband takes something off of my plate, or if I shared something with Oreo, etc. Basically right now I’m tracking but trying to be less rigid about it and I’m using it as a guide to make sure I’m getting enough, not as a guide to see how little I eat.

I started focusing in on my nutrition more and exercising again last week (4 days of light spinning + 30 min at home strength training, plus a hike over the weekend). This week it mostly more of the same with maybe an actual gym day on Friday if I have the day off work (Husband has said he would go with me Friday afternoons). Nutrition has been fine with my half a multi a day (the multi I have is 2 caps/serv so I just take one cap). I’m a little low in iron and think I may need to find foods I enjoy that are higher in iron- might be a reason to add in some breakfast cereals lol.

Anyway, I’m not pretending like I’m not actively trying to lose weight or change my body size, and I AM tracking my weight and just took measurements this morning, but I’m not sure I want to fully document it because I’m not sure if it’s what I want on my blog? Like on one hand I want to be transparent, but on the other I don’t want to like, promote the idea that fat people actively need to try to reduce their body size/fat/weight? I’m a big proponent of healthy behaviors at every weight/size, and it feels a bit inconsistent to encourage focus on holistic health when I myself and also focused on aesthetics.

The whole thing is confusing to me because I fully recognize that my motivations for monitoring my body IS related specifically to changing how I look at not at all related to actual health. Because I’m honest about it, I don’t actually feel like I’m going against my own values, but I worry about how other people will take it if they see somebody who says just focus on health and NOT weight or body size or fat, but then here I am also focusing on my body size/fat.

There is another component now too: I don’t want comments on what I should or shouldn’t be doing. If I put my body out there how I am now, it invites people to tell me their opinions about how I look and how I should exist. It invites the “Ew” comments. It invites the “I’m just worried about your health” comments. It invites the “good for you for getting healthy” comments etc etc. It also invites the ignorant ED comments… the “you don’t have to worry about anorexia since you’re fat” or the comments of people assuming my ED is BED or the “why so many nuts?” “You don’t need that big of a meal” “lol not eating a piece of bread is good for you, not disordered behavior” types of comments. I. Don’t. Want. Them. Hard stop. I don’t want any discussion about my body’s shape or size as that discussion is horribly triggering, no matter what it is.

Also, regardless of how my body responds, I don’t want anybody comparing themselves to me. I don’t want people who are fat to think they “have to” work to change their aesthetics the way I am- because my aesthetics are mine and what I like on me has nothing to do with what I want other people to look like. I don’t want people to think if they eat and move like me, their bodies will respond like mine. If I lose weight, I don’t want it to be moralized with the “good job” “so proud” “you worked so hard for this” commentary. If I don’t lose weight, I don’t want people to assume they have to eat less and move more to avoid being as big as I am.

What I will say is this: im actively working on body acceptance at every size and measurement. This morning when I measured my waist, hips, and thighs I started to freak out a tiny bit. My waist is larger than my hips were prior to my 2019 weight gain. My thighs are almost as large as my waist was at their smallest. The discrepancy between my waist and hips in terms of clothing sizes reminds me of how my body shape is not the celebrated shape. Measurements are needed for lots of things, not just body checking. If I want to buy clothes online, measurements help me find the right fit- and my body deserves clothes that fit it. But the discrepancies mean clothes just… don’t fit. Im trying to look at changes in body size/measurements as data, not goal-driven, and to remind myself it’s just a measurement. My body is as it is no matter what. It’s the same if I measured and if I don’t. It’s like having a lab like cortisol drawn- just a snapshot of how I am right now. Clothes will fit just as well before and after I take measurements. But even still. I didn’t take measurements last week before I decided to start focusing on movement more because I was scared of how I would internalize the numbers. I thought this week, well, maybe I wouldn’t be as “fat” (larger numbers) and I wouldn’t feel as bad about it. But knowing that these measurements might not even be the largest is still somewhat hard because of my own personal aesthetic desires and it’s like… I worry about my clothes and what I might have to do for them to fit my body again.

[otptings]

Countless Moons

-Idol; Niki

-Word Count; 3k+

-Genre; 13+, angst , two endings (one horror, one ambiguous fluff)

-Warnings; detailed death, blood, cussing, aged up Niki, mentions of eating disorder, descriptions of grief multiple breakdowns, mentions of vomiting, self harm, insanity

-Synopsis; 2 years ago you witnessed your boyfriends death firsthand. Now after his 2 year death anniversary weird occurrences have started happening.

-A/n - here is my warning, this has a really detailed death scene that caused me to become choked up while writing this. if you do not think you can handle that please do not read this. requests are open for Enhypen (super small print is a dream, italics are flashbacks)

"I'm sorry."

Tears dripped down your cheeks. Fat and warm as they landed on your hands that you were wringing. Staring at the gravestone in front of you.

Riki Nishimura.

December 9th 2005- November 30th 2020.

Gone too soon.

It was the second anniversary. That means two years. Two years since you've witnessed him get hit by a car. When you thought too long about it you could remember that day perfectly.

That dreaded day.

Seeing his purple hair and the pout on his face after he had gotten lectured by the soccer coach because of it. The sun beating down on you, warming you despite the cold breeze that threatened to force you to put on a jacket. Niki's jacket that he always left for you just in case. Watching as he dribbled the ball, confidence displayed on his face as he kicked it toward the goal. Tossing his arm over K's shoulder as he cheered, turning to face you. Raising his fist, a smile on your face as you happily cheered for him.

Tugging said jacket closer around your body as another cold breeze brushed by. The clouded sky only made the day more dismal. Knowing that not even the sun would shine on you, as if it knew what this day meant.

"I should've listened to you," You wiped away your tears releasing a shaky laugh, "If I was more careful you would never had have to run after me."

The gravel digging into your knees and palm. Hearing your jeans rip as you hit the ground. Turning around in time to see the car hitting Niki. You could hear crunches, and a thud as he hit the ground. A blood curling scream was heard, but you don't know if it was from you or Niki. The driver of the car veered into a tree, who you later found out was drunk, passing out against the wheel.

The horn blared as you ran over to Niki, placing his head in your lap. His purple hair appearing red faintly, his eyes fluttering shut. Begging him to stay awake, tears blurring your vision as you cupped his cheek . Eyes widening you say blood dripping from his forehead.

So much blood.

The crimson liquid spilling around his body, seeping into your clothes as you held him closely. Looking around you saw bystanders staring on in disbelief, watching as you cried over his body in the middle of the street.

By the time the ambulance showed up Niki had stopped breathing. More screams and tears leaving you as the paramedics pulled you off of his body. One of them wrapped a silver blanket around you, another called your parents. You watched as they attempted to revive Niki.

They weren't successful.

His time of death was 5:37 pm.

"I wish you were here with me. I still sleep with the teddy bear your mom gave me, the one that used to be yours." A bitter sweet memory, his mom coming to your house with tears in her eyes. Handing you a box of his belongs. She hugged you tightly, muttering a sorry, before giving you her number. That was 2 years ago, before they moved to Osaka.

You couldn't blame her.

The box was precious to you. Filled with various teddy bears that he had around his room, various assortment of clothes, and letters that he had written you.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as you felt eyes on you. Was someone watching you? Raking your eyes over the tree line, you thought you saw a glimpse of purple. Chills ran through you. It was time to leave anyway, it was past 7 pm.

Placing the narcissus flower on his grave, you stood up not bothered by the grass stains on your jeans. Pulling the jacket closer to your body, you headed to the gateway of the graveyard.

As you approached the archway you felt an urge to turn around. It was strong, like someone whispering it directly in your ear. Glancing over your shoulder you saw someone crouching over his grave, exactly where you were mere moments ago. The flower you placed in the figures hand as they stood up. An involuntary gasp left your mouth, and then the figure was gone. Vanishing into thin air.

"Niki?"

-

The sun beamed down on him reflecting his silver hair as he stepped into the river. Niki turned to you with a giant smile on his face, his hand up covering his eyes from the son. Strangely you couldn't make out his eyes. You let out a laugh watching as the bottom of his jeans got soaked by the water where he hadn't pulled them high enough. He looked down at the flowing water, a pout on his lips.

The water seemed to continue rising, as fear shown in his eyes. Just like the day the car hit him. You tried to scream at him, tell him to get out of the water, but no words left your mouth. A wave rose out of the water and hit Niki. A gurgled noise filled the air as you ran to the river. You ran into the river, desperately looking for him when you something grab your leg and yank you under the water. You were met by dark red eyes, and a fanged smile.

He let out a laugh as the water filled your lungs. When your vision started to get blurry he whispered in your ear.

"Be back soon love."

-

No fucking way. Your stomach dropped as you read the text.

Niki Niki 💞

Hi baby

Your hand shook as you quickly blocked the number. This was a sick fucking joke. Nausea flooded your stomach, and you felt bile rise in your throat. Dropping to your knees you started to get choked up. Covering your mouth you tried to quiet the sobs leaving your mouth.

Who the fuck would hack a dead persons phone? Why would you think that was okay?

Seeing Niki's contact appear made your heart drop. Memories flashed through your mind.

His face lighting up after the goal, when he looked at you in the bleachers and knew that he wanted to make you proud. His smile shining brighter than the sun. Whining when he pulled you into his arms after, laughing as he rubbed his sweaty cheek against yours. His hair stuck to his forehead when he leaned down to you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

Hearing the sound of his body hitting the ground. Holding him tightly to your body, begging anybody to help you. Feeling his blood soaking through your jeans, sticking them to your skin like paper mache. Watching him open his mouth as he tried to talk to you. The panic in his eyes as his breathing got more ragged. A gurgling noise presenting itself as his lungs filled with blood. Seeing his eyes becoming glazed over as you held him to your chest, begging him to stay awake.

You should've held him tighter that day. Kissed him a little harder. Not bothered worrying about his sweaty jersey. Just cherished the time that you spent with him.

Unknown

this looks weird I know but please listen to me

meet me in the place where we first met

I need to see you love

-

Tears streamed down your face as you held your legs close to your chest. Your skirt was covered in mud and grass stains. The bottom of it was torn where it had snagged when you tried to run away from them. Quiet cries left your mouth as you hid under the bleachers, praying that the bullies would leave you alone. You covered your mouth as you heard them getting closer, chants of your names.

"Come out piglet."

"Yea piglet. You love to play in the mud right?"

"Come out come out piglet." Their laughter got quieter as they walked further away. You slowly relaxed. You just had to wait out here til the bell rung. Only flaw in your plan was that you had no clue what time it was.

"Are you okay?" You jumped pulling your legs closer as you heard someone. Turning to your right you saw a boy with dark brown hair, hanging shaggily over his eyes. He held out his hand, attempting to help you stand up. When he realized you weren't gonna grab it he sat down beside you, not caring about the mud getting on his clean uniform. "My names Niki. What's yours?"

Niki didn't seem bothered at your silence. Taking off his jacket he handed it to you.

"I see your uniforms dirty. You can wear my jacket for the day if you like." Reluctantly you took his jacket, slipping it over your arms as he watched you with a smile. You stared at him weirdly as the bell finally run. Recess was over and you had successfully escaped your bullies.

Standing up Niki held his hand out to you again. This time you took it.

"Thank you." His smile only grew larger.

"Of course. I think we're gonna be friends."

-

"This is fucking stupid." Your words got sucked into the quiet of the night. You knew the Niki was dead. You witnessed his death. Held him in your arms as he died and choked on his own blood. Even spoke a eulogy for his funeral. He was dead as doorknob.

Here you were though. Pacing back and forth underneath of the bleachers. Sneakers crunching the dry grass. It was the middle of December. Instead of studying I was waiting to see who hacked my dead boyfriend's phone.

And what specifically was I waiting for? To have them appear then force them to apologize? They have no morals if they could hack a dead teen's number. What makes me think that any useful would happen from this.

"Fuck!" You growled as you crouched down, tears burning at our eyes. "He's not fucking coming back." You tried to convince yourself. "Everyday was supposed to get easier without you, but they're only getting worst and worst." An uncontrollable wail left your lips. You grabbed your hair, pulling it as you tried to ground yourself.

Nothing made sense anymore. Niki died at 15. It's been 2 years and you're still holding on to him.

"He isn't coming back." You wiped your tears with the sleeve of the hoodie, sniffling as you stood up.

"Who's not coming back?" Whirling around your mouth went dry. A gasp left your mouth as dizziness overcame you. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Him screaming your name was the last thing that you heard before you fainted.

-

"How could you bring her here? She has no fucking clue?"

"And leave her there?"

"He's right this is the best choice."

"Bringing her here is dangerous for all of us. Especially here."

"If you guys even touch her I'll kill you."

"We would never."

"What if she finds out what you are?"

-

Your eyes flickered open at the sound of harsh whisperings. Sitting up slowly you looked around the room. It was a stereotypical boys room, posters on the wall and clothes scattered across the floor. Turning to the nightstand something caught your eye. Picking up the picture frame you saw it was a picture of you and Niki.

Freshman year homecoming. First dance since you started dating, almost 5 years after you met for the first time. Our parents forced us to take pictures, changing up our poses every couple of photos. This was ironically the most hated one from that day.

The sun was blazing, beaming down as your parents snapped photo after photo. His arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. He whispered jokes into your ears, causing laughs to flow freely. Every picture was almost the same. Niki's lips close to your ear, a wide smile on your face as you laughed.

Tears started to blur your vision as you set the picture frame down, albeit with a little bit of a thunk. The whispers went quiet outside, obviously they all had heard it. Someone turned the doorknob with a click before pushing it open, peeking their head in. Light in the hallway shone behind them, obscuring their face. They closed the door quickly, the whispers starting back up.

What the fuck was happening? You pulled your knees to your chest, pulling the blanket tighter around your body. This had to be another nightmare. Yea. Just a silly little dream. Where my dead boyfriend rose from the dead, texted me, and then took me to some strange house. Of course totally normal dream behavior.

Suddenly someone quickly stepped into the room, closing the door behind them with a resolute thud. You threw your hand over your eyes, covering them from the harsh light that abruptly turned on. Blinking a few items, you looked at the person as your vision cleared.

"This is a sick dream." Tilting his head to the side Niki started to walk over to you. Throwing your hands up you stopped him in his tracks. "Stay the fuck away. You are not Niki. I saw him die." His face softened as he stood in the middle of the room, brown eyes showing sadness.

"I am Niki."

"You're fucking not! I saw him die! I held him as he fucking died!" He jumped at your screams, looking taken aback as tears streamed down your face.

"Love. Please let me explain."

"Don't fucking call me that! Only Niki can call me that!" With a sob you curled yourself into a ball. Praying for this nightmare to end. There is no way Niki is alive.

Thud. Warm blood. Gurgle.

Thud. Warm blood. Gurgle.

He was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Another guttural sob left your mouth, holding yourself tighter in hopes that you could just disappear. You flinched as you felt at the feeling of getting touched, a hand placing itself on back. He rubbed soothing circles as he whispered into your ear, words reassuring you that it was truly him.

"I'm sorry love." At the sound of that, overwhelming thoughts to go to sleep flooded your mind. You opened your eyes, confused at what was happening as you gripped onto Niki's shirt. An apologetic look on his face before everything went black for the second time that night.

-

"I know that you pity me. Some of you feel bad because of what I witnessed. The death of my best-friend, and boyfriend. But you shouldn't. I've known him 5 years but he has made the greatest impact on me. I look at everything in a positive light because of him. I work my hardest because he constantly encouraged me to. Niki was the best person that I know and I feel as if we should all live in his honor. I'm happy that he isn't suffering. I know that Niki is happy wherever he is. And if there is a Heaven he is definitely there. Niki if you can hear me I love you. I'm so grateful that I got to know you. I'll be with you again someday. The sun will shine on us again."

-

Niki Niki💞

I took the liberty of unblocking my number

when you wake up please text me

if you give me the chance I will explain everything

Love🦦

hurry

-

Here we were. Niki sitting on the opposite side of the bed from, just looking at you. Apart of you wished that this was real. That Niki was really in front of you. Drinking in his appearance you let a sigh leave your mouth.

Niki was in front of you.

His hair hung messily in his face, now grey instead of his signature purple at the time of his 'death'. Every other part of him looked normal. A hoodie hanging off of his skin frame, the same one that he wore for soccer practice with his jersey number on the back. He hasn't aged a day.

"I know you're confused," His voice broke the silence, seemingly the only thing that has changed. Having heard it multiple times you hadn't realized that it had gotten deeper, "please just let me explain. If you want nothing to do with me afterwards I'll let you go. I just missed you."

He ran his fingers through hair, before pulling the hoodie over his head. A nervous trait of his. It's nice to see that some things never change.

"I died. I remember the fear that I had that day, how you held me tightly in your arms, choking on my own blood. I remember all of it, and I truly did die." You stared at him, more confusion after part of his explanation than you had before.

"I was scared when I woke up here. I had all of the memories of my death, but woke up with no scars. No physical sign of the accident. Heeseung was the one that comforted me. He told me that I was chosen. Talked about fate's arrows and connecting two worlds. My memory of the speech is hazy after two years." Scooting closer to you he grabbed one of your hands, intertwining your fingers.

"You've been here this whole time?" Regret shone in his eyes as he nodded, "Why didn't you tell me?" His face dropped at your voice. Desperation was clear in the way that your voice cracked.

"I couldn't. They told me I would put in danger. That you would reject what I am now."

Niki cupped your cheek wiping your stray tears. Sighing you nuzzled your face into his palm. His hand was cold. The same coldness that filled you for years after his death.

"I missed you so much. I fought myself day and night. I needed you too. I'm sorry love."

All the nights filled with tears, sobbing until your throat was sore and your head felt like it would explode from the pressure. School days filled with people staring, whispering to each other about the poor girl that witnessed her boyfriends death. Bile rising in your throat every time you ate, thoughts of Niki bleeding out in your arms, remembering scrubbing the blood off of you in the shower. You never could keep food down, rushing to the bathroom after every meal. Tears flooding your eyes as you gagged, constant flashbacks.

But Niki is here. In front of you. His hand cupping your cheek, whispering apologies into the air between you. Maybe everything would be okay.

-

It's been two years. Two years since you've found out that Niki was still alive. As a vampire, but 'alive' nonetheless.

Leaving town was always your plan. After Niki's death what was left for you in Okayama? You always thought about going to South Korea, or maybe even to America. Somewhere to get a full fresh start. Not being known as the dead boy's girlfriend. Who wasted away due to grief. Who died 3 years after his death, a brutal suicide that raked the town.

You were the real Romeo and Juliet. Two young lovers separated at 15, death forcing them to part. You never recovered from his death, so at 18 you followed him. After your funeral your family left town, not being able to bare the pain.

It was a fresh start for you. And Niki.

Your love Niki. Who laid now on your chest as you watched a movie, a cult classic funnily enough. The other members spread out on various couches. Looking down at Niki you ran your fingers through his hair, a sigh leaving his mouth as he relaxed. Grabbing your other hand Niki placed a kiss on it, a smile blossoming across your lips.

In the dead of winter, under countless moons you were together again.

-

thank you for reading this, I really hoped that you enjoyed it. I tried to make it the ending as fluffy as possible without ruining the vibe I had going for the whole oneshot. underneath of this is the alternate ending if you want to go insane read it. it does contain mentions of insanity, and self harm. you have been warned

-

It's been two years. Two years since you've found out that Niki was still alive. As a vampire, but 'alive' nonetheless.

Leaving town was always your plan. After Niki's death what was left for you in Okayama? You always thought about going to South Korea, or maybe even to America. Somewhere to get a full fresh start. Not being known as the dead boy's girlfriend. Who wasted away due to grief. Who died 3 years after his death, a brutal suicide that raked the town.

You were the real Romeo and Juliet. Two young lovers separated at 15, death forcing them to part. You never recovered from his death, so at 18 you followed him. After your funeral your family left town, not being able to bear the pain.

That’s what your parents told everyone at least.

The truth is police found you under the bleachers, writhing on the ground as you nonsensically spouted about vampires and curses. Telling everyone who listened how Niki was still alive. They would tut, turning around while mentioning how the accident affected you. Ruining you mentally. Your parents' concerns only grew when you would speak to the thin air. Claiming it was Niki. That he missed them, and wished they would allow him in the house.

You would claw at yourself to ‘feed’ Niki, blood dripping from your arms. It came to a halt when your parents walked into the house, crimson surrounding your mouth as you happily told them you had turned. You were now a vampire. You could now be with Niki forever.

They shipped you to the farthest asylum. One in Virginia, hidden away in the mountains. Far are from them. Far away from Niki.

Maybe after countless moons you’ll meet again one day. When the insanity no longer claimed your mind, and shrouded your reality.

[tempestsreach-blog]

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long.  It’s going to be rambly.  It’s going to be sad.  It’s going to be angry.  There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though. 

Fuck diet culture.  Let me say that again.  Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life.  I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.  The only way to heal is to go through.  I can’t go back.  I have to move forward.  But I can’t do it quietly.  I can’t hide.  I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in.  Literally.  40 years of my life wasted to this.  I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way.  What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me.  That’s okay.  Truly.  This is about ME.  This is to help ME heal.  You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot.  I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore.  Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain.  One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad.  I should go to the doctor.  I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it.  Want to know why I didn’t?  My weight.  I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me.  I don’t feel this way irrationally.  This shit happens.  I am in pain.  I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work.  Not long term.  I am excellent at losing weight!  I’ve done it over and over and over.  Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself.  Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not.  I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much.  Did you count those calories?  How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that?  Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time.  Every meal.  Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder.  Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun.  Cabbage soup.  Phen Fen.  Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting,  and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results.  I’ve purchased fancy scales.  I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app.  Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death.  I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself.  I am the failure.  So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids.  My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard.  Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings.  It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable?  We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat.  Or skinny if we’re really being honest.  How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny.  Feed her a damn cheeseburger!  She looks anorexic.”  I know I have.  I know I’ve said those words.  I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.  

Every body is different.  We are supposed to be.  Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing.  Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended.  My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man.  He’s just a big man.  He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man.  My mother was not tall, but was always large.  I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way.  Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large.  That was the way her body was.  I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated.  How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work”  I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.”  NO.  

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing.  Suffering in silence.  Hiding food. Restricting.  Binging.  Over exercising to compensate.  Spending money on one last diet.  Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly.  I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time.  One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty.  My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me.  It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin”  Pretty on other people.  Other people are pretty.  Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming.  In big ways and little ways.  I’m 5 ft 9.  I’m not a tiny person at any weight.  I’ve always been told I’m too big.  Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive.  This is subconscious.  I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets.  “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.”  or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then.  Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure.  Why bother?  Fuck it.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”  That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality.  If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life.  The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet.  So much life wasted.  The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies.  I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment.  I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been.  I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies.  The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures.  True story.  This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me.  IT’s what my brain said to me.  It’s how I de-valued myself.  There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food.  I daydream about food.  Food I “shouldn’t” eat.  Food I “should” eat.  When to eat.  When not to eat.  Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food.  I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food.  If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it.  This is going to take me a long time to break free from.  Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body.  Food is not good or bad.  Food is food.  I have to say these things.  I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again.  None of this is work anyone can do for me.  I have to live it.  I have to work through it.  I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands.  If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it.  This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind.  I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment.  I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them.  Airing this out is one of those things for me.  It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion.  I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this.  I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives.  Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are.  I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject.  They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

[foreverunfound]

What happens when you restrict too low - horror stories that may haunt you under the microscope 4.0

Hello! This is part of series that recently has been appearing on my blog named “Horror stories that may haunt you under the microscope”. These posts are about things that involve weightloss, training and similar stuff. If you’re intrested and don’t wanna miss out follow me (yikes I know). Today’s post is about dangers of low restrictions - not the great ones that comes more later than sooner - cause everyone knows them. It’s about this smaller dangers that can really affect you bad after a short while of restricting too low. Today’s topis is:

  “What happens when you restrict too low”

Firstly it is important to explain what hides behind phrase “restrict too low”. We all got some nutritional needs that need to be fullfiled in order to allow our bodies’ proper function. It’s obvious. When we try to lose weight we usually eat less and that’s okay. The thing is you need to know how much to restrict in order to benefit from it instead cause suffer. You should never go below your BMR which is amount of calories your body uses only to keep you alive. Nothing more. But eating your exact BMR isn’t too good either. The best way to tell how much you should be eating to lose weight is to check your TDEE (total daily energy expenditure) which is amount of calories you use throught all day on everything you do including basic body functions, spontanical movement, work outs and other stuff - there are a lot of good free calculators online which will help you in that - when you know how much it is you should eat around 200-500 kcals less.

But what happens if you not enough, when you restrict too low?

There are a lot of risks and I will divide them into categories - you can choose only the ones that are somehow intresting for you cause I know not everyone really cares that much for health here (but you should!).

1. VANITY - If you care about your looks here’s what can happen:

*skin - at first it will get clearer. Less pimples yay. You will  probably get more pale. Then your skin gets dry. Not like “less oily nice matt dry” - it gets really freaking dry. It’s yikes.

*hair - no one likes excess hairloss right? Well you might wanna get used to that. You will loose a bunch of hair - the longer you diet like this the thinner and less shiny your hair will appear.

*figure - will you get thinner? Yes. But you will be dehydrated and will lose a lot of muscle in proccess. It means you probably will have flabby skin - of course if you don’t start binging like most of people and gain all (or even more) of the weight you lost back. Lack of muscles might seem great to some of you but I’m not talking little dainty cindirella, I’m talking about flabby small legs without shape. It’s yikes. You will likely get skinny-fat even if you work out cause you will keep loosing muscles.

*brittle nails

2. EMOTIONS - when you’re hungry your emotions at first will escalate. You will get irritated easily. Weary mentaly and physicaly. Then comes more downsides as when you don’t really give your brain energy you can start to feel “depressed” - I’m not telling you that you will get real depression because of that but you can feel sad. Feel not enough of emotions daily. You can get kinda anhedonic.

3. SEX DRIVE - Sex what? You will probably lose your sexdrive (or most of it) because you will be too damn tired and angry/sad/numb.

4. G-I TRACT ISSUES - If you eat not enough after some times your body gets unused to some products. You will bloat more often when you eat a decent meal. You will find it hard to take a d*mp cause you just don’t have enough food in your belly. Did I mention belly aches? God they’re awful. Not even hunger pains, but pain and nausea after eating literally anything.

5. HEADACHES - it’s self explainatory. Low glucose levels tend to trigger the worst kind of headaches possible.

6. BINGES - If you’re restricting too low you will likely binge from time to time. It will lead to weight fluctuations that can make you uncomfy (even though it’s mainly water weight if binges are not repeated a lot or huge), nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, bloating and eventual real weight-gain if you get stuck on binging. It’s common among people who restrict low to end up in binge-restriction cycles and not really lose a lot. It can afterall lead to full-on eating disorder which is living hell.

This post is a little bit different from the others but I know there are a lot of teenagers here (I was one of them back in time) that are easily influenced. I added some tags I never use on purpose so it would reach more people in need. If you’re reading this while thinking about starving yourself/restricting really low I promise you you can lose weight healthily. You can have just the body you want. No matter your age, gender. This is all in your head. Starving yourself is never the solution - it’s just coping mechanism and it will never solve your problems. If you really need to lose weight do it healthy way. The things I wrote about - they’re the smalles risks really that appear rather soon. Later it just gets worse. My DMS are always open to people who need advice, support or just simple talk.

Please stay safe guys xox

[mreugenekrabs]

im pretty sure all my followers are porn bots but this is for whoever sees it and needs it

i have no idea what the fuck im talking about virtually ever; in this case, however, listen the fuck up. if you or someone you care about is/has been struggling with an ED due to diet culture / family comments etc etc. please stop using a scale. please reassess your relationships with food. please. i’m going to start w my story and end with what i can say that might help. TW talk of bulimia anorexia and binge ED.

growing up, i had overweight parents. they were always dieting. i ate weightwatchers food growing up. and jenny craig. did juice cleanses. did tummy teas. did adkins. followed along the whole time because my parents made it very clear my metabolism would be shot very soon and i’d “look like them.” when i was 12 was the first time i ever really fell into a physical eating disorder beyond binging on the weekends. i was puking my meals as a fucking 12 year old child. i would only net about 900 calories a day max but usually would do 500/400/300 alternating. the thinspo movement was full fuckin force in 2011 so i followed nothing but extreme calorie drop diets all throughout said movement. one day, a friend and i stole diet pills from kmart around age 13. i would take one only on eating days. these worked for awhile until i no longer knew what hunger was. i still don’t have a healthy relationship with food 10 years later and have no concept of what hunger in my body feels like. rumbling can be anything. digestion, thirst. beats me. as i got out of middle school and a bit further away from thinspo and wanting a thigh gap; i started to only desire to be pretty for those around me. thin was becoming less important in terms of thighs and ass, so my only issue was my belly and my “gma arms” and of course eventually my large tits. (against my will i grew honkers that hang. and trust me my whole life small boobed girls make sure u know how lucky they are to not deal w this.) in high school, especially early on i started to completely restrict food. i think this is because it’s a time period where comparing yourself gets way too easy. i justified starving myself by eating a cookie a day. im eating whatever i want so of course 500-900 calories is just fine paired with a 1000 calorie volleyball workout. i had senior girls (who i later found out also were dealing with EDs) tell me i looked so skinny and they would ask how. the praise is always never ending when you look thin through an ED. now imagine my surprise when i drop out of volleyball and go through a depressive episode and develop a heavy binge ED (the one im still struggling and stuck with) and can do nothing but put on weight even if not eating most of your day. adult bodies work a lot differently. learning this has been really hard. hell, stretch marks and thoughts of loose skin are even harder. unfortunately though there’s only one true and sure way to lose and keep off unwanted weight and it’s to be mindful of your calories. end of the day, log them all. if that triggers you, just stick to three meals a day, no leftovers. snack on fruits, veggies. 2000 cals a day is pretty standard but check online to see what deficit is right for you. you have to have a HEALTHY CALORIE DEFECIT to see progress in your body. your body needs carbs and fats for energy. keto is not sustainable and neither are any diets restricting an entire macro. even intermittent fasting is just fancy talk for starving yourself. fasting everyday literally means starve yourself. except for 6 hours a day does not mean your body isn’t being starved. of course i am no where close to being a doctor, but as an ED veteran, please forget about the scale during your journey. whether you want to maintain your weight or lose weight; do what is healthy for your mindset. i personally only weigh myself once a month in the morning only. i don’t restrict any food but buy any food that may trigger a binge in small portions. sucks to have tiny packages of something you could buy in bulk, but if it helps it helps. lastly, please be gentle on yourself. your body will NEVER be what it was in high school and even if you can reach that place, it will be hard to stay there and any deviation from that “goal weight” is gonna hurt like a kick in the face. as afore mentioned i am still in recovery and am working away from this 10 year old burden. just don’t be like me and put it off until your body hurts. your skin is all you really have.

[poptod]

Hey, I have an ask for Elliot struggling with disordered eating. Love you for keeping up with the gender neutral fics, not too many of those around.

notes: this was a little harder for me because i currently struggle with a disorder like that and at first i didnt want to do it, but i think itll be good for me WC: 1.3k

Warning: Obviously, this has eating disorders and general bad stuff going on. Read at your own risk, you know the deal.

+

Every now and then, just every now and then, the signs start to pop up. They worry you incessantly for about a week, but they go away fast. Things return to normal. He shows no remembrance of his strange behavior, or at least he denies his behavior was strange in the first place. It keeps coming up though––he'll stop eating, stops dead and claims he's too busy to remember. He stretches his hands towards the ceiling and his sweatshirt rides up, and you can't help but to notice the visibility of his ribcage. The accent of his collar bones. Usually the sight of them has you yearning to kiss him––now though, sickness wells in your stomach, and it feels as though you're taking on his hunger so he won't have to experience it. A buffer between Elliot and the real world.

You can't really take him to a doctor though. It's not a diagnosable problem, it's just––it worries you. Elliot maintains a pretty standard form of body throughout these waves of eating habits, so there shouldn't be an issue. He has it under control, according to him, but sometimes it gets bad, and you have no idea why. Does he have body issues? Is he legitimately just forgetting to eat?

The knife in your hands––freshly sharpened that morning––easily peels away the skin of the round pear, large in your outstretched palm. Generally you try to stay away from knives, as you have a nasty habit of frequently slipping up and cutting yourself, but your strokes are slow and methodical. A long line of yellow peel falls from the pear in one, curly stroke that you maintain for the whole of the fruit. When you cut it into slices juice runs down your fingers. You lick it away and clean everything up, only then taking the plate to Elliot, who is typing furiously on the computer.

Not once have you ever known what the hell it is he does on his computer all day. He even talks about it, but you just don't understand all the tech jargon, and he's surprisingly alright with that. To him, it means he can talk and talk about everything and you'll never leave for the horrid things he's done.

"Not hungry," he says, and his unused voice is barely audible above the clicking keyboard.

"You also haven't eaten in two days," you say softly, pushing the plate ever so slightly closer to him.

Two days––you counted, watched him carefully, but he didn't notice. He never does.

He says nothing and doesn't take any of the fruit. They're special, too––you had to go down to the Asian market to get them, and that's an hour drive in the city traffic. More than anything you feel useless––useless to help him, to understand him, useless to him. You could cry, but you don't. Not in front of him. He's never seen you cry and you're not about to let him see.

Instead you leave him there with the plate, lock yourself in the bathroom for about five minutes, and come back out.

Still hasn't taken one, you think to yourself, counting the number of slices on the plate.

Fourty-two minute TV episode later, there's still twelve slices. Sneaking out of his apartment to return to your own, still twelve slices, beginning to yellow. Your teeth grind yet you do nothing, which is what you usually do, which is what you hate yourself for.

Next time you bake chocolate chip cookies. He has a single bite of one but you nearly cry (again) with the amount of relief you feel. So the next time you make sugar cookies, cut them into fun shapes and decorate them with colored, homemade icing. You give him the heart colored red and blue––he eats the whole thing. Granted, it is one of the smallest cookies, but he ate the whole thing.

You grin like a maniac while mixing up a batch of banana bread, the mildly sour-yet-sweet scent reaching you as you hum. If you can find the right baking pan in your bag, you can make it into a cake, with sweet frosting you're sure he'll love.

"What are you doing," he asks in a monotone voice. You whirl around, finding him on the other side of the small kitchen.

"Banana cake, or bread, depending on if I can make the icing," you say.

"... why."

He doesn't even say it as a question. He says it as a statement.

"I don't have anything better to do," you lie. Actually, you're skipping out on a lot of work, all of which you will have to make up on your vacation days. Telling him straight out why you're baking all these things will only make him stop eating, you know that. 

After that he returns to his computer. Later that night you serve up the banana cake––which you manage to make a great frosting for––and the two of you watch an old 50's movie on sex education. He doesn't eat the whole slice, but he eats about half and that satisfies you.

"My cupboard is getting full," he notices one day, talking to you from across the kitchen. His head is stuck in the cupboard while you continue to stir the mix in your metal bowl.

Since the bowl is in your hands, you scooch over to him, looking over his shoulder. The four levels are mostly empty except the presence of plastic containers, all of which containing your various creations. You hadn't checked, but none of them are smaller, an indicator that he still hasn't eaten without you watching him.

"You should take your stuff home," he suggests.

"I think you need it more than I do," you say, and he has no rebuttal. He straightens his back and scans the cupboard once more before looking to you.

"You're a good baker," he says, "but I don't like cookies."

"Good thing I'm making pie then."

He eats half of the slice you give him, and none of the Chinese food you order for takeout, much like all the previous nights. You kiss his cheek before you leave and he lets you––stands still as you lean forward, doesn't flinch when you touch.

"At least keep drinking water," you say, desperate to reach him in some way.

"I know," he says, and shuts the door.

Your spine is pressed tight against the outer wall of his apartment, knees beginning to ache as they're held fierce to your chest. The stinging sensation in your nose reaches your eyes, forming tears that you despise, ones that come in big, fat rolls that mess up the fabric of your sweatshirt. He won't ever listen, will he? He won't ever take care of himself. Why doesn't he care about himself?

Probably because he's too worried about the world. There are things he does that you will never understand––both on computer and within the mind, and despite how many times he's talked about it, you don't get just how much effort he puts into helping the world. All that strength, all that fierceness, it pours into his work and leaves nothing left for himself but sickness in his stomach.

So why doesn't he care about himself?

He doesn't have the energy. It's spent, used on the world, on the poor, on the needy, on the desperate, on those clawing their way through a world that hates them, and on you.

You're so busy trying to take care of him you don't notice the little things he does––buying new ingredients for your creations, cleaning up the spots you miss, paying your parking tickets when you forget, washing the clothes you accidentally leave at his apartment. You don't need someone looking after you, but it's so nice you hardly notice it. Those little weights are off your mind, and the clarity shows just how thin Elliot is spread across everything he can't bear to leave to fend for itself.

There's not enough time in the world for him to help everyone, so he excludes himself. That's alright to him. That's logical to him, it's normal, it's all he can think of being right.

You just wish he'd let himself be taken care of.

[marvel-holland-love]

Never enough

Type:

angst / fluff

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warning: Eating disorder, self hate, body dysmorphia 

Summary: You’ve been dealing with an eating disorder for some time now but haven’t told anyone until Tom starts to notice something in your behavior that leads him to worry and so he keeps an eye on you and sees something that exposes your secret.

Word count: 2,362

A/N: Hi everyone, hope you enjoy this imagine, as I said in the warnings, this imagine includes detailed eating disorder talk, this is my first imagine so I hope you like it, i also speak spanish so sorry if there is something wrong with my grammar. I’m already writing another imagine which Ill post soon, at the bottom is my masterlist and there I’ll have the imagines I make. Hope you enjoy and have a great day!

y/n: your name

y/n/n: your nickname

y/l/s: your last name

If you have an eating disorder and need help, you can find it here https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-help-support

- 

-  

You and Tom have been together for about 1 year and 5 months, you love each other dearly and tell each other everything, but there is one secret you decide its best to stay secret, which is that you've dealt with an eating disorder since you were 17 years old, and now you were 22 years old. You found ways to hide it from him, to hide the meal skipping, the purging, the excessive exercise, everything that came with your disorder. 

Tom had noticed since the beginning that you had a bit of a small frame, but he thought you had a fast metabolism or that that was the way you were, but he never thought you had an eating disorder until he started to notice somethings on your behaviour that started to worry him.

- Today   -

3rd person POV:

You were coming through the door of the Holland household after your 2 hour run, it was 9:00 a.m at the moment. You were walking through the door when a sudden hit of dizziness struck you and you stumbled a little while you started to get your vision blurred with black spots. Harry was walking by to go to the kitchen when you came in and he noticed your pale face and stumbling, so he went over to you to check on you. That's when you felt someone grab your arm and say something to you, that you couldn't quite put together. You turned around to look at the person and noticed through blurred images that it was Harry, that's when you spoke.

y/n POV:

“Harry?” you said still feeling like you were going to faint, “y/n/n, what happened, are you okay?” he said with a worried tone. You didn't know quite what to say, you could barely make out the words that came out of his mouth, but you understood it enough to give him somewhat of an answer, “Yeah, im fine,” you said not even convincing yourself on that answer “I guess I just got a little dizzy, didn’t drink water before going on my run, better go do that” you said knowing how unconvincing that answer was, but still going to the kitchen in order to avoid the conversation you didn’t want to have. I heard him say something to me, but I didn’t quite catch it so I just ignored it and kept walking.

Harry’s POV: 

I watched y/n/n come in the door, but she was really pale and I noticed that she started to tumble. When I got near her, I asked what was wrong, but I guess she didn't hear me because she didn't answer, so I got near her and held her up so she wouldn’t fall and that's when she spoke; “Harry?” she said, but I could sense something wrong in her tone so I asked her again what happened and she just answered that she didn’t drink water before her run which didn’t convince me at all, because I’ve known her long enough to know when something in her tone hints that something is wrong. After I saw her start to walk towards the kitchen, I decided to ask her if she had eaten anything before her run but before I could finish my sentence she was already out of my reach. So I decided to tell Tom, there was something I really didn’t like about this so I knew the one person who could get to her should know.

3rd person POV:

Y/n was in the kitchen drinking water when Tom came in, already on board of what had happened, so he wanted to have some proof that his theory wasn’t true, because he already had an idea of what might be going on. 

y/n POV:

I saw Tom come in the kitchen, but he had an expression on his face that gave me a reason to believe Harry may have told him what had happened. I tried to put on the best face I could with a somewhat believable smile, so he wouldn't come with conclusions, even though he had already formed conclusions since he started to notice your weird behavior. “Hey darling, how was your run?” He asked, but he wanted to see if you would deny what had happened previously, “It was great,” you said which caused him to give you a questionable look “I just forgot to drink water so I got a little dizzy when I came into the house, but now i'm perfectly fine” you said hoping to change the course this conversation was turning, “Oh, and did you eat before you when on your run?” he asked already knowing your answer, “No, I wasn't hungry” you said with a more defensive tone. “Oh great, then we can have breakfast together, because after that run, you bet you are eating something babe ” you wanted to say you weren't hungry or make any excuse to not eat because, how could you eat, after all the effort the run took do to your lack of energy, just to throw it all over the border, just like that for some stupid calories you didn't want to have in your body, but you knew he was already worried and suspicious of you, so rejecting his offer would just bring more attention to the topic, so you agreed “Sure! What do you want?” you said hoping to sound convincing, but failing miserably.  

Toms POV:

When I came in the kitchen, I looked at y/n/n and actually took notice of the weight she had lost and her pale face. I realized that what I'd been pushing to the bottom of my mind, might actually be a problem. I had started to notice how y/n/n skipped meals but she always gave a convincing excuse, so I convinced myself to not look through it, I also notice how when we had a meal together, she would cut her food in tiny pieces and play around with it, and only eat a portion of it, also that when she was “done” she would drink a lot of water and go to the bathroom immediately. And her intense workouts as well, after what Harry told me, I started to put the pieces together and realized that what I feared might be the situation here, no matter how much I want it to be a piece of my imagination, I fear that y/n might have and eating disorder, but I won’t make any serious accusations until I’m 100% sure. That's why after a little bit of talking with her, I managed to make her get breakfast with me, “Sure! What do you want?” she told me in what I guess was a miserable try of sounding excited, “Ummm, we should make pancakes! Yeah, pancakes will be.” I said trying to lighten the tension that was in the room “Su-sure” she answered but the stutter on her voice, I could tell she was nervous about something. “I'm gonna go tell the others we are making pancakes for breakfast” I said before leaving to tell the others.

3rd persons POV:

After a while of cooking, you and Tom placed the pancakes on the table and called everyone to eat.

Everyone was sitting down and eating but you couldn't get the voice in your mind to shut up and at least let you enjoy one meal with your boyfriend and his family. That's when you noticed Tom and Harry were looking at you at times with worry in their eyes, so you started to eat to get any suspicion away from you, but it was too late for that.

y/n POV:

Every time you took a bite of your food your mind was going crazy and your intrusive thoughts were kicking your ass.

Why are you eating You are SO fat how can you be eating You don't deserve food If you get fat, Tom is gonna leave you If you get fat, no one is going to love you Correction, no one loves you You are a piece of crap You look like a fucking whale, WHY ARE YOU EATING?!?!!

You don’t know how much time passed but Nikkie and Dom had already gotten up from the table and you could feel tears welling up my eyes and one or two down my cheeks I quickly cleaned them from my cheeks in hopes no one saw them but Tom noticed them just that he decided to not say anything until we were alone. So after finishing my pancakes to not bring up suspicion I decided it was time to go to the bathroom and get rid of my guilt. Before going I drank water and excused myself “Be right back” but what I wasn’t expecting was for Tom to start making questions, “Where are you going y/n/n” “Oh, I’m going to the bathroom” “Why do you always go to the bathroom after eating?” I started to get really nervous and think, why was he asking so many questions, I knew I needed to get out of here ASAP,  “Dunno, guess you just gotta go when you gotta go.” 

After telling him that, I sprinted as fast as I could to the bathroom, but I was in such a rush that I forgot to lock the door. I got on my knees in front of the toilet and stuck my fingers in my throat until I started to feel everything coming out. My mind was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear Tom walk in the hallway or get into the bathroom, but the next thing I felt was a pair of arms embracing me in a hug and stroking my hair in a comforting way.

Toms POV:

After y/n/n got up from the table I had a gut feeling I had to follow her, I don't know what it was, I don’t know if it was the way she said it or the look on her eyes, but I knew something was going on. After maybe 2 minutes, I got up and followed her to the bathroom but when I got to the hallway I heard it. I started to hear muffled sobs and gagging and I instantly knew what was going on. I got to the door to open and noticed it was unlocked, which surprised me because I thought it would be locked. When I got in, I froze, seeing y/n/n so vulnerable and in this situation, it just made me want to hold her near me and never let her go and tell her how much I love her and how beautiful she is, also to tell her that everything is alright and that I’ll never leave her, I just wanted to hold her and stay like that forever. 

I ran to her and kneeled next to her and held her in my arms, by the shock in her face, I could guess she didn’t hear me come in so I started to struck her hair to try and comfort her and the instant I did that, she started to sob.

y/n POV:

I started to sob into Toms arms and couldn't help but think that he was going to hate me or leave me so I started to apologize, “I-I-I-m so so-sorry T-T-Tom, I didn’t mean for it to get to this,” “Im s-s-sorry”

After that I left a muffled cry out since now my face was facing his chest. He said something but in between my cries I didn't understand it. 

How could you forget the lock of the door!

You are so stupid, his gonna leave you

You are so disgusting

He probably thinks you are a waste of time or a lost cause

How could you expose yourself like this

I HATE YOU

I HATE YOU

I HATE YOU

I couldn’t stop the voices in my head. I just wanted to turn them off, I just wanted to scream. This only made me cry harder into Tom and he continued comforting me without saying a word until I calmed down a little, when I was able to slow my cries I decided to speak, “Tommy, please help me, turn the voices off, j-j-just please h-h-he-help me please”

Toms POV:

After y/n/n cried in my chest for some time while I tried to comfort her, she said something that broke my heart,  “I-I-I-m so so-sorry T-T-Tom, I didn’t mean for it to get to this,” “Im s-s-sorry” she sounded in so much pain and I just wanted to take it all and make her stop feeling it, I couldn't see her like that, it broke my heart, so I responded “It’s okay baby, everything will be alright, i promise princess” I don’t think she heard me cause she didn’t say anything after, but at this point I started to feel the tears well up in my eyes so I just hugged her and let her cry as long as she needed in my chest.

After a while, she spoke again and what she said made me shed some tears because I just wanted to make it better, but i didn't know how, but I knew I would do everything I could to make it better,  “Tommy, please help me, turn the voices off, j-j-just please h-h-he-help me please” to that I responded feeling a lump in my throat, trying to make the words that came out of my mouth as steady as I could, but not achieving it completely, “Everything is going to be alright baby, I promise, I'm not gonna let you alone, I’ll be with you through every step of the way, I promise everything will be alright princess”

After that pulled her into my lap and held her until she fell asleep from the crying, while I was holding her, I noticed how small and innocent she looked and i realized that I loved her so much that I would do everything to get her back to health and happiness, and I would turn off the voices that kept tormenting her mind, she was my baby and I wouldn't give up on her nor let her go.

MASTERLIST

[roxxelll]

Good day all. Since today is my 26th birthday, I’ve been doing a bit of reflecting & I thought it’d be fitting to share a part of myself I seldom talk about. A little over a week ago, it was the ninth anniversary of my admittance to rehab. I haven’t thought about my time there for a long while but for some reason this year I’ve been a little overwhelmed with emotion. I thought I’d write it all down and share a bit of it in hopes that it might help someone, whether it’s to shift their thinking or give them a little hope. 

I wrote the piece below almost 6 years ago but after reading over it I still find it one of the most eloquent things I might’ve tried to express. The reason I chose to share it is to say to anyone- if you are struggling and this time is testing your mental health and your strength, you are stronger than you think. A bad day doesn’t mean you are losing, it means you are coping and working hard at beating your own demons. 

I don’t talk about this side of my life a whole lot but it would be nice if you could share it if you resonate with it in some way or if you feel like you know someone who might. 

>>It gets a little long and there are TRIGGERS for eating disorders so please proceed with caution !!! << 

I do this thing where I often brush over my anorexia in conversation, and as expected, this might be the first time many of you are hearing of it. I just never felt the need to tell my story to the people in my life, I never wanted it to be the thing that everyone rolls their eyes about. 

However, I think it is time for me to tell my story. In full. What prompted me was that I have seen how my story became an inspiration for someone else; a reason for them to feel that they are not alone in the world. I was in awe that something so terrible in my life could be used for something so good.

This is the story of my eating disorder and I.

19 January, 2015

My mind was my body’s worst enemy. It was a weapon of mass destruction, ticking away in my head. Misconceptions invaded my mind and multiplied into thoughts and soon after their images were all I saw in the mirror.

I can’t give my mind all the credit; I didn’t create all the misconceptions in my own mind, even if they were all allowed to grow there. My mind only mimicked what it was being fed at just about every turn. One of the things I remember so vividly is seeing an underwear model. She was sexy and beautiful and I could think of nothing I wanted more in the world than her body. So started the worst train of thought I have ever had: the aspiration for perfection.

The media can be a scary thing. As a teenager, it was pretty much most of what everyone was talking about and consuming on a day to day basis. By the time I was in grade 10 in high school, all my time had been consumed by trying to getting the best grades and only producing my best work in my visual arts class. My time in the sports field ceased all together and in my mind the only way for me to achieve my standards of perfection was to go down the dark, sinister route that I had not even realised I'd taken.

On 26 October 2011, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. There is no easy way to explain the feeling of your own head telling you that you are not good enough, that you are disgusting, that you are too fat, that you may not eat.

2011 was not a good year for me, I remember so well that a bad day would grow into a bad week and eventually evolve into bad months. My family seemed as dysfunctional as ever, I picked up the nasty habit of smoking and the stress of school had only weakened my state of mind. I hated what I was and I had somehow convinced myself that everyone else around me felt the same way, when in fact I was the one pushing them away. Sometime in mid October, armed robbers had broken into my house. No one in my family was hurt, but I had gotten away with a broken arm and a few bruises.

It was then in hospital that doctors had noticed there was something off about me. It must have been brain shattering for my parents to see what had been eating away at me for months only at that moment. How could they when all I did was hide from the world?

I was admitted into rehab after that and I did not sit for my November exams. In six months I had lost 14kgs. I have been in remission since.

My life was consumed by loss. First it was the weight, then my strength, and eventually demons began to nibble away at my personality. I watched my life crumble away as fast as my body did. My hair started to fall out and my nails stopped growing. I lost my period all together. My bones stuck out of my body like they were unwanted intruders, I became as frail, dead and dull as an old building.

Misconceptions are the hardest scars to heal. They forced my body apart from my mind. I have learned that it's called body disconnection, the feeling of being absolutely cut off from your body. No experience was good enough in my body because my mind wanted to be as far from this body as possible. I don't know how you can even explain it... Imagine wanting to be so far out of a room you would give anything to leave it. Now imagine that was your own body and you can start to understand body disconnection. You can leave an uncomfortable room. You can’t evacuate your own body. Excruciating, isn’t it? Looking in the mirror, I never saw a body that was perfect, only the disgusting images of what my mind had made me believe I looked like: the image of imperfection. It was shattering, painful and exhausting..

It's been three years now.

I'm quite proud to admit that my annoying need to overachieve at everything has been my biggest weakness and my greatest strength. I never wanted to do something halfway, and this was no different: I got an eating disorder as bad as they go. But I sure as hell got a recovery as good as they go. I have not relapsed or regressed. I have just grown in confidence and in strength. I haven’t done that on my own: the support I have had from just about every corner of my life has been my lifeline. Even on Tumblr where people are so confident just to share selfies and feel good about how great they look. Nothing makes me happier to see people love who they are. The people in my life have fought with me in my corner with so much strength they could collectively save the world. I am not sure I could ever find the words to describe the impact they have made.

People tell me every day how far I have come in three years. They see me eat and think it is all over. There is little truth in an assumption so bold. Here’s the thing no one told me about when I first thought an eating disorder is a good idea: it never leaves you. It just becomes less overwhelming. I still have the scars to face every day. I say remission because I never really heal. Then again I am only human and people often forget that when I have a bad day. The truth is I face my worst fear every time I sit down to eat no matter how much it seems like I love food.

I'm not perfect, no one is. And in time I've learned this fact and to love myself. I don't burst at the seams with confidence, but I definitely have more now than what I did three years ago. There are days where a relapse sits on the horizon but you just have to hold your head high and fight it. I don't write this in hopes of becoming a role model but I do hope it inspires people, not just those who face what I did, but with any curve ball life decides to throw at them. There's always a way out if you're willing to look for it.

_______________

I wrote this five years ago. This passed year has probably been the biggest test of my recovery in a long time. Staying at home with constant worries about access to the gym, my safe foods and social distancing are prime triggers for a relapse for me. It’s true that you never fully recover, but you do get better with time. Every day is a constant fight against my ED, depression and anxiety, and there are many days where it seems like climbing this never-ending mountain is impossible. But I’ve come to realise that any step we take in pushing against it (even just acknowledging our emotions and thoughts) is one in the right direction. 

In the past week I have thought quite a lot about my anorexia and impact it has had on my life, my family and my body. And the truth is, I still choose to wake up and fight the “mad bitch” everyday. Some days are definitely harder than others, sometimes it’s easy. But I win everytime because I choose to fight it. So I really hope that anyone fighting their demons (whatever they may be) will reflect on how strong they are and the journey they have walked.   ♡ 

[cuntess-carmilla]

TW: disordered eating, emetophobia.

I need advice on how to help my bulimic brother (22 years old).

First of all, I'm not mentioning his behavior of lashing out at us for the purpose of victimizing or centering myself here, it’s to give more context of his general behavior. Of course I feel personally hurt by some of the shit he’s said, but by far my main concern is his well-being. The rest of my worries are basically how this’ll affect my parents emotionally (I’m the Eldest Daughter™).

The reason I’m asking here is that I've never had an eating disorder, so I have no direct understanding of how it is and how to best help him. The last thing I’d want would be to do something that to me seems like a good idea, but ends up making things worse (such as the idea of hiding the scale that I briefly entertained). I know there’s people here who have gone through these things or are going through them, and I think they’re the people who can give me the best advice.

OKAY, so:

My brother is bulimic, he knows it, he’s rubbing it on our faces to lash out, blaming us for it (because we don’t “stop buying bread” which is what we fucking eat for breakfast), insisting that it’s our fault that he’s “fat” (which he isn’t AT ALL) and that as long as we keep buying bread he’ll keep purging, even though he has a flat fucking stomach and hollow cheeks. It’s not even that he’s in denial about being bulimic. He knows and doesn’t care. Also, trust me, if we were to ever stop buying bread, he’d find something else to binge on.

He weights himself several times a day despite the billion times I’ve told him that any changes in his weight within less than a couple of days is due to how long ago he ate or drank something, or how long ago he went to the bathroom. Sometimes he weights himself right after or before eating something.

He has been weighting himself at least once a day for a few years now, but the purging started much more recently. Because the purging didn’t start until a bit ago, initially we chalked it up to him just being obsessive in general (which he is), but he tends to switch obsessions after a while. This, instead, has been too persistent through time.

I just heard him making himself throw up after having ranted about how it’s our fault that he’s “fat” again, and when I told him he was displaying behaviors typical of bulimia all he said, angrily, intentionally so both my mom and I could hear, was “No shit, that’s what I have to do since none of you will help me lose weight”. When I told him eating disorders are literally deadly, he kept lashing out saying “Good by me, I have nothing to stay alive for anyway”.

I know that for a lot of people the matter of eating disorders has to do with a feeling of lack of control, and controlling their own bodies in this way gives them a sense of control over something, which fits perfectly well with where his life is at right now. He’s also probably seeing this as his only way to “rebel” since he’s being so loud about it and knows we’re concerned. He used to rebel in other ways before the pandemic, but now that he’s stuck at home, he’s turning to this.

I tend to be good at helping people with psychological stuff and in particular I’m the only one in our family who ever manages to get through to him and the only one who “gets” him, but it’s not working this time. All he does is keeping on lashing out and acting out.

I have no idea what to do anymore. Does anyone have any advice?

I have no issue with this being reblogged in order to reach people who may want and know how to help.

[miniwolfsbane]

JWCC Sammy Gutierrez and body positivity

THIS IS VERY LONG! (I just have a lot of feelings!) Also, this is personal and doesn’t talk a lot about Sammy and is just one big rant. 

Comment I wrote on the S2 preview “Also, shout out to the creators for making Sammy heavy, but it not effecting or having anything to do with her character. OR have her be obsessed with food. I'm sure other 90s kids remember the fat kid trope. Not doing fat logic, but we've come so far from the old days! As a woman who had that kind of body type growing up (had skinny friends, developed early, etc. it all was uncomfortable for many reasons. Long story.), it's amazing to see this kind of...semi-body positivity that's quiet and unspoken in a show aimed at everyone, including girls.  If I had seen this character at 13, my mind would've been blown. Kudos!!”

I’m reeeally tired and getting to that point where I get emotional about stupid stuff. However, this isn’t that stupid...maybe? 

We’ve reached a milestone, a kind of apex in American society, where being fat is no longer a running gag and it’s celebrated to be thick and/or a healthy weight. (Not to say skinny isn’t cool and it’s sure as heck better than carry 90+ pounds if it can be helped, but, as I said on Youtube, lots of 90s fat tropes were had, were they not? Every body type has their problems, blessings, and issues.) But, health is also a big issue and losing weight is too. I’m all for losing weight, but I also know what it was like growing up a fat kid, then a fat teenager in the 90s and 2000s when we didn’t have representation and people like Tocorra Jones, Melissa McCarthy,  Ashley Graham and Rebel Wilson around to promote different body shapes and/or being a little heavy or curvy while still being healthy. (Melissa and Rebel have lost weight and I applaud them full circle!)

Anyway, It is downright uplifting to see Sammy in JWCC like this! Being “thicker” than her two female friends doesn’t slow her down or hinder her in anyway. She is not obsessed with food. She is not constantly eating. Likewise, she has an actual personality and an interesting secret and backstory. The fans seem to love her. She is not dressed immodestly and she doesn’t seem to have ANY negative opinions of her body type, for now. Likewise, in a fast paced show like this, no one is talking behind her back about her weight or eating habits (again, for now. This could change in upcoming seasons, we don’t know.) Come to that, she’s fairly intelligent and isn’t dumb. Like, how many times have we seen a fat, dumb person in a show. (I’m looking at you Chris Griffin and Cleveland Jr!) This could’ve gone SO SIDEWAYS in her character creation any number of ways and I’m just amazed it didn’t. However, this maybe is attributed to the show being an action show and not a comedy? In any case, I’m so glad girls of this generation can see it. I wish I’d had it at their age. (It’s probably because her VA is heavy, but heavier than how Sammy is portrayed, to my knowledge. I’ve only seen her years ago on Disney channel.  Who cares why? It happened and I’m glad.) Please be assured, I’m NOT trying promote fat acceptance, just inclusivity, relatability, and representation. 

Like I say all the time, I’m not super heavy. I never was. As I said in the comment, I developed early and had mostly skinny friends growing up. I remember being about 11 and hosting my first sleepover and someone pointing to my arms at my stretch marks, asking what they were. I wasn’t traumatized and they didn’t tease me, but I was a little (a lot?) self-conscious. Like, can we please get the idea out of our head that ONLY pregnant women get stretch marks?? (Cocoa butter companies, hello?!) They can happen to girls that grow tall fast or, like me, you can have them all freaking over because the puberty button in your brain got stuck. (LOL?) And calling them cute things like skin lightning doesn’t really help. My limbs and body still look weird.

I don’t remember seeing many characters shaped like me in shows as a kid or teenager.  Unless maybe Simpsons characters with their pudgy bellies who may be some of the most average, realistic bodies in all of fiction, really. We can’t all be supermodels and body builders. Sailor Moon girls were all thin and leggy. None of the Magic School Bus kids were pudgy, all average and healthy (which is probably a good thing in a way. IDK. Representation is great, but so is promoting healthy eating and healthy shapes. Everything has their place.)  Disney characters were mostly animals at the time, and I didn’t see Recess until Highschool or something at 3 am, and even then, there was only Mikey. Mikey was progressive, but he wasn’t female. Closest I got was Ariel’s (Little Mermaid) sister, Adella ( https://littlemermaid.fandom.com/wiki/Adella) and even then, she had no belly and never animated the same outside of the series with not much character development or anything.

Cassie from Animorphs might’ve been a close second, but, though she was my favorite female character as a kid (not anymore), it was hard to say “OMG, she’s shaped like me!” as it was a book series with few visual aides outside of covers, posters and some toys. 

I remember seeing the singing group Cherish for a few seconds on TV once. A bunch of thick, busty, heavy black girls and I was SO EXCITED because for those few seconds on TV, there were girls that looked like me! Then some years later I found out a few of them lost weight and I was like bleh. (I didn’t follow their music or anything, not even sure how I saw them again.) Not that disapprove, health is essential, and I encourage people to lose weight for themselves, but it was nice having some representation. Except health needs to come first. It’s a two-edged sword if I ever saw one.

Don’t get me started on the sheer amount of girls with small/flat chests on TV. (No offense! See above about body types. Again, it’s about representation and seeing someone that looks like you that was not common in the 90s and early 2000s) I’m picky though. I wanted to see more representation, but the minute I saw it, I was not impressed or annoyed. To my better judgement, I saw a few episodes of something I won’t name with a curvy lead. I found her times dressing up as a man unconvincing and confusing because of her body shape. Other times I was, for lack of a better word, slightly appalled at her own size, even though she somewhat looked like me. I know, it makes no sense. Other times, I was mad at Lizzy Mcguire or another show for having skinny characters with A-cups while I was, er, way past training bras and smaller bras by 14/15 when the show was new.

Swearz, I developed (pun not intended!) this weird conspiracy theory that Disney execs have to look at the Star’s mom and other women in their family before casting a girl to make sure she stays thin/average chested for the shows entire run. Outside of one show, all shows in that era had the same thin girl body type. (And not much representation for different races for Disney back then, but that’s another debate for someone to better handle, not me.) 

All that said, my shape was attributed to four things: Diet, genetics, lack of exercise and my mom’s cooking. Not sure how much I subscribe to the “genetics effect body fat theory”, but the “genetics effect body shape” is definitely a thing! And hormones in chicken. My family said all I ever wanted when I was little was McDonald’s chicken nuggets all the time, so I think that had some play in how I turned out. It’s probably too much to get into here, and no one cares about my sob story, so let’s move on.

Sammy is awesome and I hope to see more characters like her from other studios in the future. Every body type needs representation, but every body also deserves to be healthy and nourished.

EDIT: WARNING: THE VIDEO AND  THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPHS TALK ABOUT ED AND CALORIE RESTRICTION!!

OMAHGAWWWD! I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING ROTTEN IN THE INDUSTRY, Y’ALL!! (Okay, that’s obvious, but you don’t really give it thought in your day to day life.)

The video gives a summary of Jenette McCurdy’s time on iCarly and the horrors she’d been going through in her younger years, which included an eating disorder and restricting calories to an (alleged) 900. Dear lord, that is sickening.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCE1x_chT34

Granted, I would take this with a small grain of salt as it’s from the internet, and undoubtedly, many actresses, probably more than we realize, have ED’s. If they would start encouraging them to be at healthy weights, things like this wouldn’t happen. Frick Nickelodeon and frick the acting industry!! 

So, this was what I was trying to convey. Casting and producers need to find that middle ground. Don’t promote fact acceptance, but do not force your actors/actresses to be stick thin either.  I could go on a huge tangent, but I don’t have the brain power right now. If you have an ED or know someone that does, I strongly encourage you to get help. I’ve been in tight spots like that (I knew of people or knew people), but getting REAL help from a doctor, professional, or someone with a good head on their shoulders is better than hiding it or keeping it secret. Ten years down the line, you’ll be thankful you did and not have regret. No one is perfect, but sometimes you have to fight harder to find a solution and someone that will actually listen to you and take your concerns to heart. 

If I get negative comments, I’ll be deleting this and no one will be able to enjoy it. Think before you type and don’t be a jerk.

[goddess-ofthe-underworld]

Living with my conservative, fatphobic, racist father.

Loaded title, I know. This is a lengthy one and if you actually stick through to the end thank you.

******TRIGGER WARNING: Eating Disorder talk, and fat phobia*******

I used to always say that I knew my dad was a good person, just misguided and just really lost in his way of thinking. I've tried educating him. I have tried explaining why he is wrong. Nothing changes 9 times out of 10. And the 1 time is simply a façade or maybe I did get through for a moment, but it went right back to before.

I won't lie, I used to just go with my dad said. I never understood politics, it was something my brain would NOT let me understand and I foolishly just went with whatever he said was right. I learned my lesson and I found ways to make politics make sense, different ways for things to be explained and I have been working to undo previous mindsets. I'm sure there is still things I am not even aware of that I need to change but I have every intention on educating myself and those around me so I can do better. I am ashamed of letting myself be led by hateful people. Never again.

I am currently seething and using my anger to keep from crying. I am so appalled and somewhat shocked at what came out of his mouth today. A bit of backstory is me and my niece we will call M both struggle with weight related issues and I try my damndest to make sure she never does what I did when I was her age. It was fucking 94 degrees out today and she wore a sweatshirt because she is ashamed of her stomach being big. She is also FUCKING 14. 14 years old.

Her and I went into walmart to do some shopping and my dad drove us. When we came back out, I made some comment about someone looking cute because I thought she thought he was cute. So then my dad goes, "I saw lots of women, I wish I could say they were all cute. Some were like 300lbs wearing clothes they shouldn't be." I sat there for a second, my heart stopped because I was shocked he said that in front of her. Me, whatever. I'd handle that differently, but her? When she already is ashamed of her body? Fuck no. I immediately said 'what' and he laughed and said they had 'loaves' hanging out and that no one wanted to see that. I turned to him and said, "First of all its hot as hell outside, they can wear what they want. That's rude and mean." And he of course got angry and tried to tell me that people that are big shouldn't wear certain things and to be honest, I was so heated I don't remember half of what I said, and he yelled over me anyway.

The conversation ended with me trying to not break down and make the point to him that that is exactly why I struggle to wear what I want because that's hurtful. My niece agreed and called him a Ken lmao. And he said, "You know what, I used to get comments like that when I wore shirts that rode up my belly until I realized no one wanted to see that." I just sat there feeling defeated, angry, and anorexic thoughts going through my head that haven't been for a while. I *almost* got to the point where I felt like I could wear a crop top I got the other day, and that just destroyed every last bit of me working to accept my body as it is.

My body is at the biggest I have ever been, I have spent the last 4 years gaining weight and stress eating because I have been unable to work because of my mental health and I have been trying to love my body, trying to accept it, trying to of course make healthy choices and lose the weight in a healthy manner. Today's interactions have sent me down a spiral of thoughts that I have been able to avoid for a while.

I am stuck living here until my husband and I are out of debt and can afford our own place, which is probably going to be 2-3 years out, and I don't know how to handle these comments anymore. He hates BLM, says it's a hate group no matter what I say to explain it, he called it the china virus, doesn't believe it's real, he has a problem with Muslim's, he constantly makes comments about peoples bodies and I have no fight in my anymore to try and explain to him why he is wrong and why what he says is hateful and hurtful. I am thankful that he has helped my husband and I, let us live rent free with him, helped us get what we need, etc. I really appreciate that he's been doing that. But fuck I can't deal with this.

This is the most public I have ever gotten about this. Is there support groups for living situations like this? Because FUCK.

As soon as he walked away and it was just me and my niece I told her I don't give two fucks what he had to say, no matter what a person weighs, no matter their body type they can wear what they want.

If you made it this far, and you struggle with your body:

You don't exist to please anyone. You CAN wear whatever the fuck you want. Please remember to punch people that say shit like that because fuck them.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

I feel like shit. Alot has happened since I last wrote to you, both good and bad. It’s been a busy couple of weeks and I guess this is more of an update letter to myself rather than to you - sorry about that, I just need to put my thoughts out there. First of, I feel like I might be on the wrong path. One of my friends sent a message in a groupchat saying how much he apprichiates everyones hard work and that he thought that the fact that we all loved what we did is what holding us togheter. And it might be - I’m just not sure that I love it. There’s so many nights where I don’t sleep at all because of the stress and there’s others when I fall asleep with the lights still on in jeans from exhaustion. I don’t know what I am doing and I keep doubting myself. There’s too many days that I wish that I could just quit, or the forbidden thought that coronarestrictions might get stricter, so that we could not go through with the project after all.

K told me the other day that I’m always so happy. I can’t remember what I answered but I think I mostly shrugged and was like “eh”. It makes me both feel happy and sad that I apparently hide my feelings well, but for some reason I wished that he saw through me. I’m annoyed at myself because I want to have feelings for him. We would be perfect togheter, we have the same humor and we share alot of interests. He makes an effort to spend time with me. It’s easy and I think love is supposed to be easy, in a way. But at this point in time, I don’t have feelings for him, but maybe that’s a good thing, maybe building a foundation on a friendship the best way to go. If you don’t have expecations you can’t get disapointed, right?

From one boy to another. V is really making my days worth living right now. It’s not that we’re close friends, I doubt that we would ever hang out just the two of us outside of school, but he is the definiton of easygoing and I love him for it. It’s all jokes with him and he never fails to make me laugh. We jokingly flirt alot, but we both know that nothing would ever happen between us - he literally feels like a brother and I find comfort in that. The other day he was giving me a ride home and somehow we got talking about sports and excerise, both which I kind of hate and that fact made him surprised. I can’t remember the exact words he used, but it was something along the lines with; you don’t look like someone who hates sports. It made me happy, because as I’ve told you before, I struggle with my body and weight, so to hear from someone who I, for a fact know goes to the gym regularly, that I don’t look like a fat, lazy mess, made me happy. Like maybe the skipped meals makes a difference after all. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I have an eating disorder, but I try to mentally keep track of my calories and limit my eating. I’d like to say that I see a difference in my body, but I really don’t. The last time I bought a pair of pants, they were a size down from my usual though, but anyone who shops in the womens section knows that size dosn’t mean anything. I’m trying to not get happy when I go down a size, because I don’t want a literal lable to define me. Also the pants really don’t mean shit because my waist has never been the problem, it’s my stomach that always sticks out.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that I need to be more honest with myself and others. I am terrified that I one day will wake up and realize that I’m stuck in a life I don’t want, with officehours, a husband and two kids waiting in the car. I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want that. My plan for the future right now is to move as soon as my studies finish, but I’m not sure that that’s the right thing to do either. I left my life in Sweden and I don’t regret that at all, but do I want to stay here? Not really to be honest, but here’s where all my friends are. Whilst I’m still struggle with opening up to people, I feel like this is a good start. It’s a solid base for a future, I have already gotten a summer job here, which will lead to contacs in the industry, which could lead to a full time job when I’m done. But I don’t know. Everyone seem to have plans and dreams but I don’t. I don’t see myself getting married and I don’t see myself getting kids. I can’t even envision myself having a stable job in there future. I know some people love living in the moment and in the “now”, but that’s literally just my life. It feels like I don’t really care to be honest, all I want is to be happy and I’m the happiest when I travel and escape reality. Can I escape forever though?

I still have more to say, but my head aches and I should try to get some sleep. Thank you for existing.

Love, Milla.