[.that girl.]

A couple of nights ago I decided to show my boyfriend pictures from my previous years: we’re in that stage of our relationship when we want to know everything about each others’ pasts, and it’s surprising how many things we’ve discovered after seemingly a lifetime of dating. Well, it’s been a year, anyway, and for my still-teenage mind it’s incomprehensible that I have been able to maintain a stable, more or less mature relationship for such a long time, considering… Everything. Having his support has been amazing, I definitely wouldn’t have been able to do even half of what I’ve achieved this year without him – in fact, I don’t think I would be sitting in my Madrid apartment writing this post, rather I’d be back in my childhood home being nursed out of my nervousness by a bunch of disinterested doctors. Anyway, off-topic.

So we looked at a gazillion photographs I had stocked up on my external hard drive and I couldn’t help but notice how much I had changed throughout the years. See, I used to categorise my life into pre-weight loss and post-weight loss (a.k.a. disordered), but I realise that girl that I have idealised in my mind, the one I was before, is somewhat… vague. The problem with trying to compare yourself with a teenager is just that: we are so fluid in that stage of our life that every day seems like a different life.Image

But there is something I couldn’t help but notice. That, say, at the age of fifteen I looked more adult than I do now. That I looked more like a woman with curves and yes, teenage pimples, than now. And for a moment there, I felt like crying again. Because I wanted to be that girl again. The fact that I was more physically attractive and oh God, comfortable in my own skin, and more carefree during that crazy, fluid stage of my life says a lot. That the routine now, the being an ‘adult,’ whatever that means, I am lamenting the loss of innocence in a way – as well as the loss of those hallowed pounds.

I have never been skinny. In fact, I was svelte, I suppose, but I had curves. And I loved them. I took after my mother with my C-cup, and my boobs were legendary in high school and during the first semester of college. Image

I gave all of that up because I got scared of being too much of a woman.

Well, no más! Perhaps it will take time, months, years, decades; but I have resolved to love my curves and embrace them again – together with loving food and just enjoying life, however stable or not it may be at this point.

There. Another resolution to add to the list. Stop looking like a twelve-year-old and become all woman again.

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4 thoughts on “[.that girl.]

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  1. lenden….wait for it….DARY Legendary. lol, sorry I saw it in italics and couldn’t help it. Best of luck dealing with everything and getting better! I’m always here if you want to talk

  2. Your post got my attention… because I used to do the same thing and, as you’ve said, envy myself. I used to read also my diaries from that time to see *what on earth* could be my mind-preocupation at that time (cos now it seems that nothing else can matter except, well you know, this ‘stuff’). On the other hand, I can’t help but wonder, were we really ‘that’ carefree? I mean, ED did not come from nothing, I guess we _were_ bothered with something still…

    P.S. Me too – loved the ‘legendary’ part hihi

    1. I guess the biggest problem was trying to find ourselves in the world and whenever the opportunity presented itself, we grabbed onto controlling whatever we could – including our eating habits.
      I hope you’re doing well, good luck and thanks for reading! xoxo

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