I know you are struggling with yourself. I know how you feel. You see the pretty girls in magazines and on TV and even in real life. You’re only in the 5th grade but the cattiness has shown to be thriving. You already feel different than some of the other girls. The clothes they wear, the way they act, the words they say…all convince you of being unworthy. On top of that, you feel alone at home. Dad’s gone at work, mom doesn’t listen, you feel out of place, ugly, uncomfortable…worthless. You begin to put all of your emotions into the one thing you think you can control. Your body. You start going on walks after school to “get fresh air” and walking turns to running. Running leads to locking your bedroom door, blasting music and doing crunches for an hour. It started off as an escape, but you began to compete with yourself. A 30 minute run turned into an hour, and what used to give you a release became your disappointment; no matter now you performed, it wasn’t enough. You are not enough. You long for more control and the once confusing nutrition labels become your bible. 9, 12, 5…the only times you are allowed to eat. ¾ cup. No sugar. No candy. No bread. No pasta, Salad. Fruit. Emptiness is your friend. You soon begin to see your dedication pay off. Your face thinner, hips smaller, thighs give into your grip. Control. Achievement. The one thing you can do and do well. Your long hair clumps in the shower drain. The black and purple appears on your skin and you can’t recall what caused them. Breathing becomes harder. But for the sake of pretty, we willingly look death in the face and say, “I’m in control of you too.”
Can’t focus. Can’t remember. Numb. Is this control? Dead eyes and gaunt cheeks say otherwise. You faint in class and wake up in an unfamiliar building. As your eyes adjust to the light you recognize where you are. Tubes in your throat to keep you alive and IVs in your skeletal arms. You realize you can’t control this. No, something has taken over you. Her name is Anorexia, and trust me when I say she’s the friendliest lair you’ll ever meet. I see the way your eyes light up in admiration when those Victoria’s Secret or America’s Next Top Model women flash across the screen. Ana is planting her ideas into your soul, little one and I need you to fight like hell to not fall under her spell. Her grip is tight but you my dear are a force to be reckoned with. The diets the weight bias the workout regimens and bikini seasons are nothing compared to you. They are lies spoon fed to you by society, who encourages you after to throw them up. You are not petty, you are not weak, and you are not deserving of a falsely satisfying life. You are worth real, you are worth deep, you are worth living.
All my love,