Fighting for Perfection: My Battle With Eating Disorders as a Teenage Girl

It was a sunny Friday afternoon in the middle of March and most kids my age were throwing their book bags in the corner, laughing with their friends, and busily concocting plans for the weekend. I pushed open the front door to my house, threw my book bag in the corner, and plopped myself down on the kitchen table with my head in my hands. I could see my thighs spreading out on the chair. Look at all that cellulite. They're huge. I stood up and made my way to the pantry, looking for a way to dull the pain I felt inside. Oreos. Tortilla chips. Chocolate chips. Peanut butter. Cereal. I grabbed it all and positioned myself over the sink. I chewed some Oreos and spit them out, making sure not to swallow a crumb or it might end up on my already oversized thighs. 

My stomach growled and I made a promise to myself that I could have a few pieces of cereal and that was it for the rest of the night. A few pieces of cereal turned into a handful which turned into a couple Oreos which turned into a box of Oreos and a bag of tortilla chips and half a jar of peanut butter and so on. I couldn't stop until I thought I was going to explode. My brain was spinning from the sugar high and my mouth was dry and dehydrated. Then I panicked. I HAD to get rid of this food. It was NOT staying in my body and adding to the disgusting fat and contribute to making me the ugliest, most unlovable girl in the world. I sat down by the toilet with a gallon of water and drank a sip and then stuck my finger down my throat. I coughed, but couldn't gag. I looked for household objects to shove down my throat. Silverware, straws, my hairbrush. Nothing would make the sickening amount of food I ate come back up.