These past few days, the Wii Fit has reported back to me that I’m ‘underweight’. Barely, but underweight nonetheless. Prior to this, the whole month that we’ve had it, it had told me I was of a ‘healthy weight’. I believe I had found my body’s set-point. I was eating cakes, sweets, chocolate, fried food, and my weight was remaining relatively stable.
It’s hard to believe a simple statement of opinion could have such immense impact. But ever since my grandma, aunt and uncles’ comments, I’ve reacted by turning back to old behaviours. Cutting back on food. Food that just two weeks ago, I would have happily dug into. Lying to my mother, telling her I’d eaten sandwiches when in reality all I’d consumed was a Coke Zero. Purging after dinner, despite it not even being a very large one by ordinary standards. Being too afraid to swallow and instead chewing and spitting cake and cookies into the bin. Weighing myself a few times a day and being thrilled when the number has dropped and being mad at myself, wanting to slice off my flesh when the number’s gone up.
This could go two ways. I could grow weary with the restriction game, get too hungry, give in to temptation and resume normal eating habits. Or it could all go downhill and I end up with the symptoms of an eating disorder. Again.
There is a part of me that’s disappointed with myself. I really thought I was over this particular aspect of my mental illnesses and when I look back on my blog, it’s been six months since the last ED themed post. The lure of thinness and a decreasing number on the scale is also strong however. Stronger than my appetite for food and a desire to be healthy and free from an eating disorder? I’m not sure.