you know, lately i’ve been stuck thinking about how this entire epidemic of eating disorders and body dysmorphia is fueled by beauty standards made up by a patriarchal society just to keep women under control. we don't need to become physically smaller just to be loved, valid, and heard. the romanticization of it and the desperate urge to go back to your "prime" even while you're in recovery — it’s horrific, and it’s exactly what kills people. and the sad part is, i’m not immune to it either.
you know, i’ve been stuck thinking about how this entire epidemic of eating disorders and body dysmorphia is fueled by beauty standards made up by a patriarchal society just to keep women under control. we don't need to become physically smaller just to be loved, valid, and heard. the more a girl tries to fit into these molds, the faster she starts losing herself, disappearing completely. not to mention, all these standards have this deeply disturbing, borderline pedophilic undertone to them... everyone wants to be pretty and loved, but not at the cost of their own health. EDs are literally the deadliest mental illnesses for a reason. the romanticization of it and the desperate urge to go back to your "prime" even while you're in recovery — it’s horrific, and it’s exactly what kills people.
and the sad part is, i’m not immune to it either. it hurts so bad that i still find comfort and safety in my disorder, that a part of me just wants to give in and become even smaller than i already am. when people step onto this path, they don't realize that they’ll either have to sacrifice everything — their relationships, health, and actual beauty — just to chase a fake "ideal" that keeps shifting and getting more insane, or they’ll spend their whole life miserable, trying to sit on two chairs. trying to stay healthy while hitting a goal weight, only to end up stuck in one place, achieving nothing, while their own thoughts and insecurities slowly eat them alive from the inside out.
the painful truth is that even when you reach your goal, you won't be genuinely happy. because maintaining that weight is its own hell. you can never just relax and live like a normal person without constantly obsessing over calories, grams, the scale, waist measurements, bloating, and your step count for the day. the truth is, there are no winners in this game. but our broken minds just can't grasp it.
it’s honestly kind of funny and hypocritical of me to write this, knowing damn well the first thing i did on here was look up thinspo for "inspiration." it feels so fake of me, considering that the second my period ends, the first thing i’ll do is step on that scale and let the toxic cycle start all over again. it’s a pathetic sight. deep down, i’m still delusional enough to believe that when i start university and move to a new city, i’ll eat less, move more, and just magically lose weight from the stress.
the only reason i gained it all back and couldn't drop it again is because i got tired. i'm just not as desperate as some other people dealing with this. i still care too much about my health—the quality of my nails, hair, skin, bones, and organs. i care about keeping my period because i genuinely want to start my own family in the future.
my thoughts aren't unique, and i'm definitely not the first person to say this. maybe people just aren't ready for this conversation yet.
i want to believe that someday this will end, but something tells me to doubt it.
i am genuinely believing, hoping, and manifesting that i’ll finally drop below my lowest weight, start to wear whatever i want and finally start building the life i actually want once i move to a new city.
oh, Universe, please make this happen. it would be such a vibe...
