Feb 2018
I found a skirt at the thrift store.
Beautiful and vintage and too small.
So I bought it.
I’m thinking, “My new inspiration skirt. My motivation skirt. My, I wish I could fit into this skirt.”
Everyone does this. Right?
Am I the only one who doesn’t have anything to wear because my closet is full of clothes that I wish would fit me?
I think, “How hard it is really to lose 15 pounds?”
You know.. “The right way”.
The way that doesn’t leave your stomach gnawing away in protest.
The way that doesn’t make your head hurt and your hair fall out.
It can’t be that hard.
The old me used to run on an empty stomach and then wonder why she’s out of breath.
Sometimes she hides behind a mirror and it scares me half to death.
She couldn’t eat without the numbers.
Her thoughts sorting good food and bad food.
I always want the bad food.
Sometimes she’d let me eat, but never without filling my head full of why I shouldn’t.
She’d watch videos of low-cal, low-fat, no flavor, gluten free, vegan brownies, and then she’d pop in another piece of gum and go to bed hungry.
She would hate me right now.
I hate her always.
She thought for some reason the longer she could go without eating was equal to how strong she was.
Skipping meals became a test in self control and I've always been a bit of an over achiever.
I became half of who I was before.
She had those pesky pills stashed away in my dresser drawer.
This skirt would fit her.
She would relish in the feeling of her emptiness.
She’d twirl in my skirt and wait for the low grumble of hunger to say hello again.
But I’m not her.
She left when I woke up one morning and decided I didn’t want to punish myself anymore.
But sometimes, part of her lingers.
She visits only on my bad days, when my jeans feel too tight or my dress doesn’t fit like it used to.
She likes to remind me that I was happy when I was starving,
And it takes all of me to ask her to leave.
I don’t know why I bought this skirt.
Sometimes I can’t help it.
Old habits die hard and I still step on a scale almost everyday.
So I pray for strength because she’s my biggest weakness.
To wake up and feel okay and not hate myself for who I used to be, but learn to love this body that I have been given.
Beautiful and vintage and too small.
So I bought it.
I’m thinking, “My new inspiration skirt. My motivation skirt. My, I wish I could fit into this skirt.”
Everyone does this. Right?
Am I the only one who doesn’t have anything to wear because my closet is full of clothes that I wish would fit me?
I think, “How hard it is really to lose 15 pounds?”
You know.. “The right way”.
The way that doesn’t leave your stomach gnawing away in protest.
The way that doesn’t make your head hurt and your hair fall out.
It can’t be that hard.
The old me used to run on an empty stomach and then wonder why she’s out of breath.
Sometimes she hides behind a mirror and it scares me half to death.
She couldn’t eat without the numbers.
Her thoughts sorting good food and bad food.
I always want the bad food.
Sometimes she’d let me eat, but never without filling my head full of why I shouldn’t.
She’d watch videos of low-cal, low-fat, no flavor, gluten free, vegan brownies, and then she’d pop in another piece of gum and go to bed hungry.
She would hate me right now.
I hate her always.
She thought for some reason the longer she could go without eating was equal to how strong she was.
Skipping meals became a test in self control and I've always been a bit of an over achiever.
I became half of who I was before.
She had those pesky pills stashed away in my dresser drawer.
This skirt would fit her.
She would relish in the feeling of her emptiness.
She’d twirl in my skirt and wait for the low grumble of hunger to say hello again.
But I’m not her.
She left when I woke up one morning and decided I didn’t want to punish myself anymore.
But sometimes, part of her lingers.
She visits only on my bad days, when my jeans feel too tight or my dress doesn’t fit like it used to.
She likes to remind me that I was happy when I was starving,
And it takes all of me to ask her to leave.
I don’t know why I bought this skirt.
Sometimes I can’t help it.
Old habits die hard and I still step on a scale almost everyday.
So I pray for strength because she’s my biggest weakness.
To wake up and feel okay and not hate myself for who I used to be, but learn to love this body that I have been given.
