Walking Away

I spent four days a week at the gym, an hour and a half each time. That’s six hours of exercise per week. As I stood my bare feet on the cold bathroom floor, and stared at my naked body in the mirror, I realized this wasn’t enough. It was at that moment that I made what I thought would be the best decision for my current situation. I was incredibly wrong.

Being a sixteen-year old girl in a boarding school doesn’t really follow the expression, ‘sugar, spice and all things nice’. Infact, it’s nothing like that. From day one, you get caught up in the idea of fitting in. There was always the girl who came from the perfect family, the girl whose parents drove the most fancy cars and even the one who had the biggest home. This however, all meant nothing to me. I only had one insecurity, “why doesn’t my body look like hers?” Don’t get me wrong, to the public I had a perfectly normal and acceptable figure of a sixteen-year old, but in my eyes, I was far too fat. I decided that something had to be done about the crinkles, which I referred to as roles that had accumulated upon my tummy. That was when the whole big idea completely consumed me.

Ironically, meal times became my favourite part of the day. The satisfaction most people got by going to do hours sweating in a gym, I got that same feeling when walking out the toilet cubicle, especially knowing that the food I had just consumed would take residence in the drain pipe rather than upon my hip. Weeks passed and I began to notice the only positive aspect of this crazy plan. I was losing weight! Seeing such a difference in my body, encouraged me to carry on, and this of course made the people around me, start to notice the negative impacts. My plan backfired and I ended up being monitored like an eagle monitors its prey from the treetops. I was terrified.  It took endless days of taking my measurements and recording my weight, and people telling me what to eat before I decided to put a stop to this. I was tired. I wanted to be healthy again. I missed the feeling of accomplishment after an hour in the gym. I missed eating food and actually enjoying eating it. I missed me.

Sometimes I ask myself, “What was the point?”  Because it still makes no sense to me now. I had no idea what I was thinking back then. Was it a cry to be loved? To be accepted? To be wanted? Finally after endless nights of convincing myself that I could, I walked away. I was back on track. I was always the girl who looked for an easy way out and I got that, but I ended up having to pay double the price, and for what? Yellow teeth, emotional stress, and low energy levels?  When I loved myself enough, I realised that I was never alone. I found the pride and the dignity within me, to walk away with my head held high. Because I am beautiful!