Once I left hospital for the first time the only way I had to track my weight was the appearance- or rather the lack of appearance- of my period.
My period started at the beginning of Year Eight. It was always irregular, and it stopped altogether during the Christmas holidays at the end of year eight.
The loss of my period signified something to me- I was getting thinner. Thin enough to be considered anorexic even. This thought excited me a little- not because I wanted yet another mental disorder, but because it meant I was skinny!!!
I was never scared of developing an eating disorder. The thought actually intrigued me. The idea of being able to purge food from your body was just purely awesome (for want of a better word). I never really realized until I started being forced to ‘get better’ just how strong an influence anorexia has over me. And I say has because it still does. And I often think it always will.
When I first got my period I was proud. Second out of my friends (the girl who got her’s first is no longer really a friend) and I was excited. Now I cry whenever I feel those telltale cramps, and when I start seeing crimson stains on my underpants. Because I have failed.
F. A. I. L. E. D.