Updated: May 2, 2019
Everyday is a battle. Its like that cliche saying: ’A war raging inside my head.’
It really is.
Morning hits and somedays I can easily slip out of bed, drink my coffee. No sugar and no milk. Extra calories that I don’t need. Eat the same breakfast of oatmeal with no milk and one banana. I feel a sense of ‘happiness’ eating something with so few calories. I wont get fat that way right? Other days... they take a different route. Waking up is a struggle. Seeing the sun filter through the windows makes me wish dusk would arrive already so I have an excuse to not get up.
But I can’t let my petty thoughts get the best of me. The rational part of my mind perks up.
I begrudgingly get up, leaving the safe haven of my room. I plug in my earphones and play some music but it doesn’t give me the same high like it used to, no matter what I play. It’s just white noise in my ears. I know I haven’t eaten since yesterday evening but the thoughts of my body eating itself away... makes me feel better?
That’s messed up. You’re going to leave your body in a permanent state of damage which is going to take years to recover from.
Thats when I reluctantly proceed to make my breakfast, feeling dread with every bite I take.
Showering... the point where my day takes a downward spiral. Every step I take towards that god damn mirror makes me want to turn around, walk away and go back to bed. Facing my reflection, the want to gauge my eyes out amplifies with every second I look. The thoughts come back.
Then again; they never really left.
I stand there, scrutinising every detail, every curve, roll, discolouration... I turn and twist around to give the illusion that maybe I am smaller than what I see but of course, that never works.
‘Is my stomach that big?’
‘My arms are so fucking flabby.’
‘You look like a square.’
‘Your hip dips are disgusting.’
‘Thighs are way too large.’
Before I know it, I already feel the urge to cover up and cry, the vision of my body solidified in my mind and it’s ugly"
I try to go back, remember those months ago where I didn’t hate every single thing about my body. I try to picture what I looked like then and I look back into the mirror. It’s just more disappointment.
‘I look so fat.’
You weren’t saying that a few months ago. What changed?
‘I gained weight!’
It's only 1.5 kg. It’s not a visible change.
And now it’s a battle. A battle between my mind and my eyes. Is what I am seeing really what I’m seeing? Are my negatives thoughts really manifesting into a physical image? Is it really affecting my vision? Do I really look like that? Am I that ugly in real life?
Is it my body dysmorphia messing with me?
The remainder of the day is passing by any reflective surface, trying to see any change in my body. Obsessing over every single detail, morphing my body in every single pose so I can see the ridges of ribs, the jutting of my hipbones and the bumps of my sternum. I stare down at my legs, a little satisfied by the small gap in between the lower parts of my thighs when I stand far from the mirror. I slip my hand against the surface of my stomach. Sometimes it feels flat, other times is slightly bloated. I sigh every time, wishing it was flatter.