I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect

Who are you to tell me, that I'm less than what I should be. I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect, mirror mirror, you don't define me, you don't own me. I don't need to listen to the list of what I should do.
-Mirror: Barlow girl.

Reading one of the many blogs I follow, I read this song in today's post. It's actually a pretty well spoken song. A girl arguing with the mirror. It got me to thinking...

I don't battle the insanity of an ED day in and day out for the pure hopes of one day becoming thin, pretty, perfect. I don't do it all so that the mirror can give me a pat on the back and tell me I'm beautiful now that I've lost enough of myself to define me as perfect. I don't know why I do it. And I don't want to do it. At the same time, I have to do it, I have no choice. I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect. The mirror certainly won't know when I'm perfect, it's just an array of particles that shine back your reflection. The mirror doesn't see into your soul, your heart, your spirit. The mirror can suck a fuck for all I care. So can the scales. So can the measuring tapes.

Basically, I've lost my appetite. Completely. I can't even forve myself to eat a celery stick. And I love it.

No, I don't battle this ED so that the mirror can praise me and welcome me to the world of perfection. I do it for the release, the control, the escape. I do it, because I have no other choice. And because if I'm lucky enough to be in the 40% of girls who actually die from this, then I can be set free into a world that does no judge, that does not measure perfection and beauty and magnificance from a mirrored reflection, but seeks deeper into the soul of someone and notices them for them. A world that appreciates that your beauty may not be crafted across your face, or sculpted into your body, but, may echo out through the beat of your heart, and the tick of your mind.
You are not less than what you should be, you don't need to listen to the list of things you should do. Define yourself, love yourself, save yourself. Or you too, will be another number in the 40% of girls who let the mirror, the scales, and the meauring tapes shave away a small part of them each and every day, until in the end, even the beauty on the inside has bled dry too.

As a decade closes, who will you become?

Who are you?
Who were you?
Who do you want to be?
. . .
At this moment, there are exactly three days left of this decade we're currently in. In four days, a new decade commences.
Does this thrill you?
Knowning, that is, that there is a new timeframe in which you can measure your goals?

Think about, just for a minute, the fact that the next time we are three days from the following decade - in ten years time - that you will be a different person. You will have different experiences, views, goals.

In ten years, will you still want to be thin? In ten years, will you be thin? In ten years, can you say that you were once thin?

You will never be as beautiful and in shape as you are as a young woman. While you can still attain a lovely figure at an older age, its not quite as easy as it is now.

We are all amazing in our own ways. And as a new decade rolls in, a new you glides along beside it. Face it, you have what it takes to get to where you want to get, to be who you want to be, to live how you want to live. You have the skill, the motivation, the power. In ten years, you will look back at this moment, at this revelation, and realise that you are a diamond in the rough, and with a little attention to detail, a little restraint, and a little self control, you can be perfect.

This decade is coming to a close. Sieze the new year, sieze yourself, and shine like the diamond I know, deep down, you truly are.

Who will you become- your options are limitless, and your time is running out.

Welcome to my confessions

"You are so thin, Sally, how did you get so thin?"
. . .
"You're so bony, eat something!"
. . .
"I'm so jelous of your figure, annorexic bitch!!"


Oh, the overwhelming joy of recieving these types of "comments" on countless occasions, soon turned into pure antagonizing, anger. In the beginning, yes, a little comment from a friend was nice, but when girls you don't even speak to are calling you annorexic, and your mother is threatning to send you to hospital, you can't help but flare up a little.

Some of you may believe that these comments should be praised as "complements" instead. And yes, you are right to think this. However, at the time, while I denied what they suggested, and secretly soaked up the words in grattitude, I was also a little confused.

THIN!! I would echo within. Are they insane? How could anyone think I am thin? I just could never understand how other people could call me thin, when through my eyes, I was attrociously large. Looking in the mirror was just plain embaressing. Wearing tight clothes was not an option. Dancing with that body? No way! Everyone was out of their minds to call me thin. Or so I thought.

Turns out I was "suffering" from annorexia. Hah! Who could have known? Certainly not me, certainly not my perception, and, even more surprisingly so, certainly nobody else knew either. Infact, to this day, I am still alone in this "illness," this "disease" that consumes me, that controlls me, that fuels me. No one else knows, and I'm sure no one else cares, either.

Annorexia is not a lifestlye, nor is it a disease. It is, however, an illness, an illusion, and, to be honest, a pain in the ass at times. But it is my illness, my illusion, my pain in the ass. I am trapped, and I really couldn't care less. Why? I can assure you, you will find out in due time.

Until then, I welcome you to my mind, my life, my world. This is my blog, and these are my confessions.