10-17-2012

After having two children any mother would gladly take the compliment “Oh you’re so skinny. You had him 9 months ago? Noway! You’re too tiny to have had any babies..”

But when you’re this skinny…

When you’re losing weight so fast that you’re afraid to step on a scale.

When you approach the end of the day to realize that you’ve only been able to force down portion sizes smaller than that of the average toddler…

Well…. When that happens, any noticeable comment about how thin you are becomes an embarrassment.

When you’re this skinny the only comment made on your after-baby-weight is just a hint that you need to put on the pounds. If only they knew how hard that I try….

My stomach is in knots constantly, and I force myself to eat whatever tiny portions I can coax down.

After I eat, I wait. I wait for the stabbing aches and pains of the ulcers to send my stomach on its daily routine of rollercoaster rides.

I see everyone else around me snacking on things that I want. Things with wonderful smells or visually appealing textures or colors.. And I begin to hate myself.

I look in the mirror every evening and am reminded at how much of me seems to be withering away once again. I am reminded of the short period of my life when I weighed what I was supposed to. When I could eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner with no pain. When I could maintain a healthy and balanced weight. And I am also reminded of the hardships that I faced my entire past with.

Growing up I was always too skinny. I always stayed a steady 10 pounds underweight throughout my entire childhood which eventually led to only weighing 80 pounds at the age of 14. At 15 I was only 60 pounds.Towards the end of my 16th year I was gaining weight. I had filled out my figure and was a perfect and healthy weight for my height and size. I was happy and had energy every single day. In college I was able to run 7 miles every day and maintain an exercise routine.

And here I am again…. A mere reflection of a stick. Ha.

One day I will get back to what I was those short 4 years I had stabilized my health.

One day I plan to be able to eat again. And run. And to have the energy to accomplish whatever goals I set for my day.

But for now I’m stuck poking at the untouched dinner on my plate hoping that maybe tomorrow it will look a little bit more appetizing than it does tonight.