Okay, people!! Time for a perspective post!
I am not BMI 20. That is NINE STONES! I am a Nine Stone Man. Capital....Letters.
I am both flabby and flawed. And do you know what? Girls are noticing me. The grip of anorexia is slipping. It is becoming more and more easy to do random, undocumented things.
Am I embarassed that I am no longer "ill"? No. Not at all. Before I'd be sitting there desperate to prove how ill I was. "I'm not even BMI 17!" - yeah, like that means anything. It means I can't bear children, or exert myself in any physical way due to exhaustion. That's hot, right? When I think I'm so flawed that I must force myself to seek out any kind of love via extreme lifestyle choices, and no for me, as a spirit.
People in the street don't look at me. I'm normal. Why? WHY?! I want you to stare at me and exalt me. I'm me, doesn't that mean anything?! No, it doesn't. I'm normal. I'm not totally emaciated and close to death, so nobody gives me that level of attention any longer.
And I freaking love it.
I've always said it. When an ED-sufferer is on the "cusp of recovery", they're in the worst position. They'll sit and ride the "hopeless recoverer" role to death. When you recover beyond the realms of "juuuuuust unhealthy ENOUGH", you start to understand you are CLINGING to that hope of being able to use it again. I am talking to both Riku AND MelissaJayne in this context. The longer you cling to the "just about" and "marginal" - the longer you totally cling to the thought of recovery being just another excuse in the life you hope to lead.
Please, keep trying. My life is so, so much happier now I'm plumper. I have no qualms about it. And trust me, I've been skinny to the point of death - this - BMI 20 - is the happiest I've ever been. Listen to me peeps. xxxx