I can confidently say a big fat no to this! It's probably the only thing I can confidently say. I've battled anorexia on and off since I was 14. At the end of last year it can back with a vengeance. Oh the joys of being screwed up!
I am the queen of self-destroying choices. Food is just one of the ways I would either punish myself for not getting things right and perfect, or use to make sure I looked repulsive to others. I couldn't control what was being done to me, but I could control how I would react to something either good or bad happening around me. Food was my first choice to use in my rebellion. A person can't hurt what's already gone and dead. Problem with that is my looks didn't change my circumstances. There's a lot of sick bastards who could care less what you look like, as long as you have a place to serve as a dumping ground for another person's crap.
Someone called it a "poison container", and that's exactly what it was. I felt repulsed and poisoned by the touch of other people, so I'd starve or flush it out of my body, not knowing I was punishing myself for someone else's actions. I felt rotten, so I had to use what I had to make things different. If I looked different, maybe I would feel different. Sick thing is, shame and disgust always end-up feeling the same!
I have always seen my face and body as reflections of what others deem desirable or even likable. If I look good, I will be kept. If I look bad, I will be dumped.
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Fat and 40
I turn 40 soon "Do you have confidence in your body image?"
losing the battle
I can confidently say a big fat no to this! It's probably the only thing I can confidently say. I've battled anorexia on and off since I was 14. At the end of last year it can back with a vengeance. Oh the joys of being screwed up!
repulsed
I am the queen of self-destroying choices. Food is just one of the ways I would either punish myself for not getting things right and perfect, or use to make sure I looked repulsive to others. I couldn't control what was being done to me, but I could control how I would react to something either good or bad happening around me. Food was my first choice to use in my rebellion. A person can't hurt what's already gone and dead. Problem with that is my looks didn't change my circumstances. There's a lot of sick bastards who could care less what you look like, as long as you have a place to serve as a dumping ground for another person's crap.
Someone called it a "poison container", and that's exactly what it was. I felt repulsed and poisoned by the touch of other people, so I'd starve or flush it out of my body, not knowing I was punishing myself for someone else's actions. I felt rotten, so I had to use what I had to make things different. If I looked different, maybe I would feel different. Sick thing is, shame and disgust always end-up feeling the same!
Through the eyes of others
I have always seen my face and body as reflections of what others deem desirable or even likable. If I look good, I will be kept. If I look bad, I will be dumped.