I see the new pictures of Kim Kardashian with her fat ass and insanely small waist and I feel nothing. I have friends who weigh less than I do and for the most part, I do not envy them. There are models who promote not eating a thing and honestly I don’t give a shit. I don’t sing to All About that Bass because I am all about being body positive. No, I don’t give a shit if a person is thinner or if People magazine crossed the line with their photo shopping. Anorexia is paired with being thin (shocker). I can’t tell you how many people hear about my eating disorder and automatically think that the thin that I strived to be was because of standards that society has set for women. For me, that’s not my thin. It’s not about a size or a number or a photoshopped body that I can never achieve.
Thin is restricting myself so I will be light on my feet. The smaller I get, the faster I can run away from all the hurt that I feel without being weighed down. Thin is making my body so fragile that when people see me, they know to handle me with care.
If I become fragile, then people will see that I am not a strong person at all.
I can’t sleep thinking about my dad’s surgery tomorrow. I’m so anxious and tomorrow I will have to withstand that. I’ll have to withstand the pressures to be perfect at school, with being a perfect daughter and with being the perfect friend. I would do anything if I woke up tomorrow so weightless that when stresses are forced on me, I won’t have to fight, my body will be forced to surrender and the day will carry me away.
If I was a lightweight, it wouldn’t take much for me to not feel anymore. Less substance with less effort could intoxicate me to the point where my depression doesn’t make my world shake.
If my body was so skeletal it looked like corpse, people would see that I am a few breathes away from not being able to survive this anymore.
That’s my thin. Nothing would have to break me anymore, my body would show you I was already broken