I’m sorry I’ve been sloppy with uploading blog posts again. I’ve fallen into the habit of prefacing every post with an apology and I’m aware this reflects poorly on me (lazy bish). Ya gurl has conveniently caught the flu and…I’ve been busy hitting the gym to grow a booty (let’s pray that a miracle happens). I’m currently experiencing deep soreness in every single muscle fibre of my body and it’s hard to create/ give anything of yourself when you don’t feel like yourself. Please accept my sincerest apologies!
As the title suggests, I’ll be covering a dark chapter of my life which I’m glad to say is well behind me. As always, this is completely uncensored and there’s no candy-coating whatsoever. I hope you find this an interesting read!
If I continued torturing my body, I wouldn’t be here today.
Throwing back to roughly 10 years ago when I was in year 8, I was a vibrant, fun-loving and free-spirited young girl with a voracious appetite. Hot chippies with a tonne of chicken salt and gravy were ALWAYS my go to and finishing a box of pizza by myself was way too easy.
I’ve met quite a few girls say bullsh*t like “I can only eat 3 slices of pizza because I get too full.” F*ck! Even typing that out was annoying! Don’t be a prissy little bish and learn to appreciate all 360 degrees of the pizza goddammit!
It wasn’t until I entered into High School and developed an interest in fashion, magazines (Cosmopolitan), and ‘looking good’ for boys, that I began obsessing over fitness and the need to be thin. During this period, I went through a weirdly obsessive KPOP phase where I wanted to look like all the female KPOP stars who were purportedly 42-48kgs and between 162-168cm. These KPOP idols were the epitome of ‘Asian beauty’, where white skin, being slim, big eyes, tall nose are all coveted features. Of these four features, I was extremely insecure about my nose and my weight and I remember being triggered by nasty comments like:
“Jo your face is as flat as a pancake. Where’s your nose?”
“Don’t you know that shorts and skinny jeans don’t suit you because your thighs are massive?”
“Your ass is too fat.”
“You can’t wear that dress because it’s too tight on your fat body, it makes you look like a slut!”
These are f*cking hurtful things to say to an impressionable 14 year-old girl. Lord knows what possessed you to say such nasty things but, one thing for sure is, you’re vile and you belong in a bottomless pit of snakes!
I was only 14 years old and already considering plastic surgery to get a taller nose (SMH) and I had my nose deep in articles on how to lose weight. Since my parents would never agree to plastic surgery, I decided to focus on getting skinny since this was something within my control. Did I need to lose weight? Hell no! I was never overweight to begin with. Was I deluded? Hell yes.
I wanted to lose weight for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to drop kilos to bring myself closer to the KPOP star body measurements. My 14-year-old logic was, if I was the same weight as a KPOP star that would make me more beautiful (lol). I also had a lot of pent-up anger inside me. Losing weight was my form of a silent strike, like a huge f*ck you to all the imbeciles who thought it was okay to make offensive comments about my body. I wanted revenge; I wanted to shove into people’s face that I was no longer a ‘fatty’.
So I began counting calories and researching into food groups that “aided” with weight loss. I cut out sweets and processed foods and started jogging more. Few weeks into this, the results were great. I felt like I had more energy and I started feeling confident in my body again. This was the first time in a while where I felt like I was in complete control of something, and I was hooked on this feeling of self-accomplishment. I was so proud of how disciplined I was and I didn’t want to ruin this perfect ‘system’ I had created for myself. If anything, I wanted to take things to the next level and undergo a more rigorous regimen.
Eventually I only ate salads and fruits and completely cut meat out of my diet. I enforced strict rules like no eating after 8pm and I didn’t let myself go to sleep unless I did 50 star jumps. I soon came to realise skipping meals was an easy way to lose weight. So I’d give my lunch box away and I’d lie to my parents, saying that I had a big lunch so I wasn’t in the mood for eating dinner. I felt incredibly smug seeing other people eat while I was withering away.
Soon enough, I was a walking skeleton and at this point I was probably full blown anorexic. I would substitute food with water, and on really bad days all I had was lettuce and green tea. I loved attracting attention in social settings – when people told me I was skinny, or noticed that I wasn’t eating enough I was cheering inside. It felt like a huge sense of achievement, like I was being rewarded for tightly controlling my calorie intake.
My eating disorders took over my vibrant and carefree personality and I was perpetually moody, anxious and self-conscious. I could no longer eat at the same table with my family members because I couldn’t bear being watched, so I’d often eat alone in secret. My family members were frustrated towards me and would always comment how skeletal I looked, and how distant I had become because I was constantly avoiding them. They were worried for me but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be left alone and have them off my back.
I remember going to bed at night listening to the gurgling of my stomach. As an anorexic, the sound of my stomach rumbling was like music to my ears. When in reality it was my nutrient deprived body crying for help. My hair was starting to thin, my cheeks were hollow and my skin was duller than ever. I’d love to sit in front of the mirror to count my ribs because in the world of anorexia, being bony was beautiful. By that point, I had such a twisted perception of beauty that no one could talk sense into me. I seriously needed help.
Fortunately I was dragged to the doctors by my parents and got the biggest wake up call of my life. I didn’t realise how imminent death would be if I kept continuing at this rate. I was told that if I continued to starve my body, I’d weaken my bones, my teeth would rot, my heart would weaken and I could ruin my reproductive organs. I felt so ashamed of myself and a huge wave of regret enveloped me. I winced at the thought of the irreversible damage I inflicted on my body over the months and I was disappointed with how dysfunctional every aspect of my life was.
Fast track a few months and things got better. It was an absolute battle having to loosen up and trying to re-introduce certain foods back into my diet. I was so used to imposing strict rules on myself that I felt guilty indulging in food. At this point I was still eating an incredibly healthy diet and I curbed all my naughty cravings (for chocolate/ cookies/ ice cream) with fruit. But my body couldn’t withstand the cravings any longer and right when I thought I was on the brink of recovering from an eating disorder, I fell into the depressive abyss of manic binge eating and chewing and spitting.
I hadn’t touched a cookie in about a year and I remember the day I went through my first episode of binge eating. I smashed through a whole packet of Betty Crocker white choc and macadamia nut cookies in one seating. This would have easily been about 24 cookies altogether. I was out of control and my body was rebelling against me.
I remember feeling like a failure that night. I constantly tossed and turned in my bed contemplating whether I should purge or not. But I was too chicken to vomit my food back up. I had such a dysfunctional relationship with food that I eventually developed a habit of chewing and spitting (CHSP) food to avoid the consequences of weight gain. This was a seemingly “smart” workaround that allowed me enjoy the taste of foods I usually denied myself. However, CHSP often lead to uncontrollable episodes of chewing and spiting out large quantities of food, which resulted in social isolation and severe food obsession.
Long story short, ya gurl was an utter idiot and had an extremely ugly relationship with food. Ya gurl is healthy now and I can’t imagine putting my body through the same experiences again. Yes, I am still sensitive about body image (but aren’t we all?) and yes, I can still eat a whole box of pizza without feeling a single ounce of guilt. Yes, I still love hot chippies with gravy. My body is a temple.
To all you beautiful people who’ve made it to the end of this post, thank you! I really appreciate it <3
As soppy as this sounds, please love yourself. If anyone tells you otherwise, flip them the finger. Eat whatever you want and if someone tries to lecture you about your weight, eat them too!