I was about ____ or so when I moved into my first apartment last year, and that's when the downward spiral seems to have started. I've never been a huge eater in general, I used to only eat when I was hungry or on a whim (I don't even remember what that feels like anymore), but in the last year due to either lack of food or the lack of will to eat, I've gotten down to a weight I haven't been since I was in grade school.
Like I said, since the move the quality and quantity of food that I received was limited in more than one regard. Fast food dollar menu became what I could afford for a while, and within a month or two, I could easily become nauseous just by smelling the fry oil from a McDonalds, or any chicken byproduct from Wendy's or KFC. I could smell the oil in my sweat, and it just sickened me. I find that when a meal is homecooked, I can at least stomach it enough to eat it without gagging. I'm beginning to find that steamed vegetables and some fresh fruits don't bother me at all. Considering becoming a part-time vegetarian (eat mostly veggies, with maybe one meal including meat), because I never get sick off of something grown from the ground at least. Beef, pork, chicken, everything flesh seems to put me off, or at the very least has the potential to.
For a while, I didn't really mind loosing a few pounds. My thighs stopped rubbing together when I walked, I had no love handles (although my hipbones are visible at all times now), and my belly was flatter than it had ever been (which was and is the only thing I enjoyed, considering I wanted to pierce it for a while now).
My boyfriend was ecstatic, which I'm beginning to think planted a thought in my mind that what I was doing to myself was acceptable, at least to some people. When my rib bones and spine were easily visible, I think he started to become slightly worried. When my D-cups went to C-cups (which may have been partially because they were over-swollen by Yasmin, which I'm glad I'm off and recommend to no-one, unless you want to bloat your boobs to an uncomfortable level and become insane at the same time), he became adamant about me eating more. Ah, what a great guy, right? No wonder I'm having second thoughts.
After months of ignoring people's comments about my rapidly decreasing weight, I finally scheduled a doctor's appointment in September (ironically, my weight was the last thing I actually talked to her about. Getting medication for the slight breakout on my face, oh, that was important...). Having no scale in my apartment, this was the first time I'd really gotten my weight since I'd moved out in August of last year.
___ lbs. I felt physically ill when she told me, not that I wouldn't have felt ill any other time of day with the amount I was eating. No medications were given out, and she told me to try to eat more. No ****, hadn't thought of that. Thanks Doc, for divulging such insightful info. I'd never been so scared for my health in my life, and I've never had a full on ED. I may be picky as **** when it comes to food, but I love to cook and I love to eat. Or at least, I used to.
Luckily for her, the holiday season was right around the corner. During November, I was at least able to eat my way through sweets enough to get back to a stable body weight for my height (5'2"). Still, now that I'm home, I've got until Christmas to wait for a real homecooked meal, I worry about slipping back into my bad habits. I'm more and more aware how weak my mind and body are in this state, it becomes increasingly apparent whenever I talk to anyone. This is the main reason why I'm seeking help at this point in time, to combat the loss of my mind (it honestly feels like it am, given how slow my brain works on little calories.) and to keep all of this junk from interfering with my job.
Anyway, thanks for listening/reading.