i've been spending alot of time lately on several body image sites. the reason for this newfound interest in what other people think about the matter isn't really important, suffice it to say, it's on the mind. this is the one area of life that's practically impossible to talk about. you don't want pity, commiseration, love. you don't want it to be mentioned. you want it to be a secret that no one knows. you want what you look like to be a huge secret.

i struggle. alot. did you know that?

i was 12, i babysat for a family in my ward. they lady was heavy-ish, but really, really tall. she wasn't fat. when babysitting her two boys, i found a bottle of diet pills on the top shelf of a cupboard (why i was up there, i don't remember). i placed 10 or so in a plastic bag and took them home and put them in my jewelry box. i think i took a couple over the next few days. i remember feeling pretty shaky, but it was a good shake. a i'm-fixing-myself kind of shake, so i loved it. the plastic bag was hanging out of the jewelry box and my dad pulled them out. I was sleeping at the time on the top bunk and he asked me where i'd gotten them. i was half-asleep so i said i didn't know and turned over, hoping he'd forget about the pills he was holding, walk to his room and fall asleep. my mom came in at some point and they both grilled me until i told them what they were and where the came from. they made me return them and apologize to the lady i'd stolen them from in a typical crying, embarrassed kid fashion.

diet pills. i was 12.

at one point in my adolescence, my mom, who had attended weight watchers for a while, invited me to come with her. i went to two or three meetings i remember, but mostly i learned about points. my poor mom had alot to think about. fat girls have a much more difficult time during adolescence than thin girls. obviously. my mom wanted to help. she did what any sensible woman would, showed me a system that would help me track my intake of food and regulate my eating habits. suddenly, everything was measured by how fat it may or may not make me. one point is about 50 calories, give or take a bit depending on fat content and fiber. i remember that my daily limit was 20 points. that's 1,000 calories. everyday.
even now, ten years later, i can tell you with decent accuracy how many points a certain food is and how many i've eaten that day. if it's over 20 points i still feel guilt.

bulimia was never for me. i induced vomiting twice, but it made the muscles in my throat sore and exhausted me. i'm not a natural thrower-upper. i was really jealous of people with really sensitive gag reflexes. i felt like i could be a bloody sword swallower. i knew when i tried that i didn't have the stamina to withstand what it took to make me throw up for the rest of my life.

so began my unhealthy relationship with food.

then i moved here. very slowly starting losing weight. ten pounds one winter. not much for the next year. another ten pounds when i started exercising lots. ten pounds when i got mono. ten pounds when we broke up. interspersed with the regular weight gain and loss that affects most every girl.

i kept looking better and better. the smaller i am, the better i look. i set arbitrary limits to my weight loss, like i'll lose 30 lbs, then be happy, then be done. but i really knew that wasn't true. 300 isnt' as good as 200 which isn't as good as 150 which isn't as good as 146 which isn't as good as 130 which isn't as good as 110 which isn't as good as 100 which isn't as good as 80 which isn't as good as 0.

i'd like to say that i feel better when i'm healthier. i feel better when i exercise and eat well because those things make you feel good. exercising releases endorphins, you will love it for what it is. that's not true. i loved exercising because i got thinner when i did and i liked being thin. i liked eating well for the same reason. you feel like you have control. eating well and eating nothing give me the same feeling. look at what i'm doing to fix myself everyone. there's something wrong with me, but not for long. i'm not good enough now, but i will be soon. be patient with me. my body likes to cling to itself, is very slow to let go of these pounds.

i thought, maybe this isn't the bottom line for everyone. maybe i'll learn to take pictures, be kind, be forgiving, play guitar, be good. that will make me good enough, right? so i would do all of these other things to help my case out. i only wanted to be interesting to give people something to work with while i got skinny.

i should end this with the story of how i learned to love myself or how i found someone to love me or how i got thin and now am happy, but there's no ending to this. i still feel like it's all a means to an end. i know being thin isn't the surefire way to happiness, but i know it the same way i know there's not someone in the shower waiting to kill me every time i walk in the bathroom. i know it, but i don't buy it.