I suffered from a lot of eating disorders, for a lot of years, and now I'm done. I've dealt with anorexia, bulimia, a combination of both, binging, purging, chew spit, monitoring calories, monitoring fat, eating everything, and not eating anything, all because of my weight. Even when I was 105 lbs, I was too fat.I'm finally making myself end this cycle. Today, at Wal-mart, there was a scale out on the floor. "I haven't weighed myself in a while, maybe I should." I thought to myself. I tapped the scale with my foot, and I remembered the days not so long ago when I would weigh myself between bites of food, then every 10 minutes or so when I wasn't eating (this is why we don't have a scale in the house).

I stepped on lightly with one foot, then all the way on with the other. Tenetively, I waited, wonder what the magical square would determine my worth was. How confident would I be today? Would I regret the chips I had for breakfast? The little black bars blinked on the screen. "--", "--", "--", like it was deciding if I deserved it's blessing, "Thinking. Thinking. Thinking." Finally they formed a number, a number I didn't like. 184. That means I've gained back all the weight I worked so hard to lose, plus 5 lbs. Here at Dear Curvy, we love all women in all sizes. We do not like a lack of health because of pure laziness. That's how I've been living. My first thought, when I saw the dread "184", was to vomit. Then and there, in the Wal-mart bathroom, then try again. This was the old me, the me who had (and still hasn't deleted) over 400 "thinspo" images on her laptop.

Then "N" came up to me, and smiled, and saw that I was weighing myself. "What is it? You look like you've been losing weight!" he said happily and genuinely excited. I explained the situation to him, and what urges I'd felt. He frowned. I knew what I wanted to do was wrong, and it made me sad inside to know I'd worried him. I won't puke, I will eat like normal, and try to add healthier items into my menu, I will exercise every day, but I won't fall into the old destructive cycle I had. Today is the change, where I care about being healthy, not thin. I know 184 is not my number, I think 148 is a closer guess. My dream number used to be 82. 82 was the number because I was underweight for my height, but not emaciated. I wanted to be so light that I could walk on snow and not ruin it's beauty with my footprints, like the pro-ana saying goes.

Today, I'm not gross, morbidly obese, or damaged. Today I am taking control of a situation, before it becomes a problem because that's what's best for me and my family. Today, I won, and the monster from the past retreated to it's lair. Hopefully, next time I have the opportunity to step on a scale, it won't return.


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