Peter Steele, & random musings

peter-steele

I think it’s so weird that people can be all over your case about how you look, how worried they are when you drop pounds so fast. And then the next month or so, they’re doing the exact same thing but living in denial of it.

I think it’s not that they’re concerned, more like envious. I would know, I’ve gone through/sometimes still going through that ride of emotion.

But having that many people talk about you, look at you a certain way, even have strangers coming up to you and asking you if you’re sick is not worth it. Makes you feel good, but only for a nano minute. I guess it differs with everyone, I mean even the recovery process is difficult.

Its tough hearing people telling you how much you’ve filled out. You wonder if they’re insulting or complimenting you, even if they literally spell out that it’s good for you.

Insecurity poisons the blood & soul. It’s not easy exposing yourself to the public knowing that you’ve changed a lot. You start hearing voices in your head, literally.

But you come to realise, perfection is a moving target. When you think you’ve come close to achieving it, you realise that you’re just back at square one.

It’s a daily battle.

I think it’s my school. The society in my school, breeding girls with EDs, even some guys. Guys in skinny jeans are not hot. Or pretty. Or sexy. It’s just gross. And girls complaining they’re fat when they’re clearly a walking skeleton need to get their bones snapped.

Okay fine if you’re naturally skinny, I’m not hating on you. And yes, I get it when someone says its part & parcel of being a girl. You obsess about these kinda things. Once you have an ED, you can’t look at food the same way anymore. You start thinking, you start counting. I’ve been through all three cycles, but I’ve cut two of them out, so.

But, I’ve been taught something, & I’m slowly learning the way.

Thou shalt love thy body.

I can’t wait to get out of this obsessed society. Even if it includes some of my friends. I’m willing to make sacrifices, even the ones with dire consequences, if it means being an inch closer to happiness.

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