Scars are Sexy: Part One

Scars, we all have them. Whether they be physical or emotional. We think they are ugly; we hide them, deny them, make excuses for them. But no matter how badly we despise them they are a part of us and they all have a story to tell. I tried to deny one of my biggest scars for years. It started out as a small scratch, but grew into an ugly, uncontrollable nightmare that I still deal with to this day. My scar is a result from my battle with my eating disorder.

It all started back when I was in high school. I was a senior dating a freshman in college. He was supposed to be my prom date. Two months prior to the prom we broke things off, which was fine until I found out he was still going to attend the event with a friend of mine. They had been friends forever and she had actually been the one who introduced us. She was having trouble finding a date for the evening so I couldn’t really fault her for wanting to take him, but something about him attending what was supposed to be one of my fondest senior memories hit a nerve, and it hit it hard.

I was always a “thicker” girl growing up. Not unhealthy by any means, but also capable of shedding a few pounds. I got it in my head that I was going to slim down and look damn good in my prom dress just to spite my ex. My diet started out innocently enough. I began by cutting out red meat and took to being a more “serious” runner. At the time I ran indoor and outdoor track but my strong event was javelin, which meant sacrificing some of the running practice for throwing. I decided that I was going to run EVERY day even if it meant having to go out on my own after track practice had ended. I also began counting calories and keeping tabs on my fat intake (this is where I made my biggest mistake). I was never taught that your body naturally burns upwards of 1200 calories a day doing absolutely NOTHING! Our health classes had taught us all about the evil perils of drugs and alcohol but we learned next to nothing about diet and nutrition. I remember reading somewhere that the body burns approximately 100 calories per mile, so I guestimated that if I ran 5 miles I would need to eat less than 500 calories per day to lose weight. So that became my plan; run 5 miles every day and consume less than 500 calories.

I bought a book (this was way before the time of google and fitness apps) that gave a calorie and fat count for just about every food under the sun. I read labels and used that book religiously! Within two weeks I started to feel a noticeable difference in how my clothing fit. People began to compliment me left and right and I loved it! I went from cutting out red meat to cutting out all meat and ALL fat (mistake #2 – I was never taught the importance of protein and healthy fats in the diet, this deficiency would catch up to me later). I had 6 weeks to go until prom.

By the time the big day rolled around I had gone from 145 pounds down to 120 pounds, which on my 5’5” frame was quite a bit of a difference. People went from complimenting me to whispering behind my back that I looked “sick.” I ignored them and told myself “they are just jealous!” The night of prom I had an absolute blast showing off my “thinner” body in my royal blue dress which complimented my strawberry blonde hair perfectly. It was even more of an ego boost when my ex told one of my friends that he did not even recognize me. After that night I made a promise to myself that I would never allow myself to get “fat” again. I continued my diet and exercise regimen and was down to 118 pounds as I headed off for my freshman year of college.

When I started college it became less of a matter of losing weight and more a control issue. I was super stressed; I was a biology/ pre-med major carrying 18 credits, was one of two walk-on freshman to a PAC champion field hockey team, had a work study job, and on top of it was trying to adjust to a totally new environment. I had been told quite a few times in the past that I wasn’t as smart or as good of an athlete as some said I was. A few people told me the only reason I accomplished what I had throughout high school was because “I knew someone.” I started my freshman year scared to death and felt like I had something to prove. I felt as though everything was spinning out of control and that the only thing I had any control over was what went in my mouth.

I began to restrict my food intake even more than I had in high school. This wasn’t all that difficult as the food options on campus back them were not what they are today. Everything was covered in meat sauce or butter, two things that were not allowed on my diet plan. My typical day started with a 3 mile run at about 6am. I then allowed myself a bagel with a smidge of jelly, some honeydew, and a crystal light iced tea. I went to class from 8-12, had 5 pretzel rods for lunch, then studied and did school work until field hockey practice. After practice I would swim, do the elliptical, or go for another run. Dinner was a cup of frozen yogurt and maybe a handful of frosted mini wheats, but only if I did a second workout. When the field hockey season ended I ramped up my running mileage to anywhere from 7-10 miles EVERY DAY! (Mistake #3 – I did not understand the value of the sacred “rest day”).

By the time mid November rolled around I was down to about 112 pounds. I became OBSESSED with the numbers on the scale. I made it my goal to break 110 before I left for Christmas break. My hair was falling out in clumps, my skin was dry and cracking, and I hadn’t had my menstrual cycle in two months. I blamed the “hard” water in my dorm for the hair and skin issue, and blamed stress for the lack of my monthly… I had an excuse for everything!

I was running so much by this point that one of my friends nick named me “Missy I can’t stop running Davis.” I feared that if I missed a single run I would start to put weight back on. I remember we had a huge blizzard and the city was in a state of emergency but I still went out and was running in the middle of the roads as they were being plowed. The cops did not take too kindly to this and I was asked to move it indoors. If I couldn’t run outside I ran laps around the basketball court inside our gym for hours on end. If the gym was closed I went so far as to run around the Rotunda of the liberal arts building to which my dorm was connected. People thought I was crazy, but I just kept telling myself that they were just jealous because they didn’t possess the motivation or drive that I had.

As finals approached I found myself getting so stressed out that not even the running was helping to take the edge off my anxiety. I remember coming back from a class and eyeing up a two pack Reese’s peanut butter cup in a vending machine I passed. I hadn’t eaten anything like that in almost a year. For some strange reason I decided I had to have them. I scarfed them down on the way back to my room, but before I could even unlock my door I turned around, went back to the vending machine and bought a second pack. After eating the second pack I felt extremely guilty and FAT! And thus began my cycle of binging and purging when my stress became too much to handle.

By the time winter break rolled around I was at 109 pounds and you could visibly count every single rib and vertebrae on my spine (for some reason I thought this was awesome!). Another snowstorm had hit and I was one of the last to be picked up for the holiday break as my father had to wait out the storm to come get me. When he arrived and I got in his car he took one look at me and just yelled. I don’t remember the exact conversation word for word but I remember it contained quite a few F bombs and a suggestion that perhaps instead of attending college in the spring I should instead be enrolled in a rehabilitation program at a hospital. While some people may think he was being harsh I knew that this was coming from a place of love and frustration. I knew my father knew all too well that the only way my issue would be resolved was if 1) I admitted I had an issue and 2) I took the steps to correct it. His frustration wasn’t with me, but was rather with his inability to do anything but sit back and watch me destroy my body and feel completely helpless as I did so.

#melissa #personal #eatingdisorder #ED #seriespost #scarsaresexy