Nobody forgets their first time. No not THAT first time. The first time you bring yourself to your knees and put your fingers to the back of your throat. The first time you’re throwing up because you’re making yourself, not because you have the flu.
There I was, age 14, just got home from school and finding my mind repeating those words. “Are you really going to eat all of those?” I pulled off my sweatshirt and looked my body up and down in the mirror. I had never examined my body the way I did that afternoon. Looking at the smallest details, from my pinkie finger to my pinkie toe.
Then a thought occurred to me. ‘Maybe it couldn’t hurt to lose weight.’ (Little did I know, yes it could hurt very much). I went to the bathroom and kneeled down, staring at my reflection in the toilet water. It’s so strange because it almost takes a certain “strength” to make yourself to throw up. There I was, pushing my fingers to the back of my throat until I was met with the mixed remains of four tosco-sticks and green beans.
No, it was not a pleasant experience. It was not clean and I felt like I needed to brush my teeth about ten times. But something happened, I felt oddly satisfied. Like I could maybe get used to this.
That single thought was the beginning of my journey.
I'm Healthy & I'm Proud 