I Am Not Bulimic

According to Wikepedia, bulimia is a psychological condition in which the subject engages in recurrent binge-eating followed by intentionally vomiting, inappropriately using of laxatives and excessive exercising in order to compensate for the intake of the food and prevent weight gain.

Source.

Though I was never clinically diagnosed, I had researched about this disorder a lot while I was ‘suffering’ from it. I knew my condition very well but couldn’t seem to get rid of it, mainly because every time I threw up, I felt better. No gain weight for me. I won’t be fat. I have long forgotten how it all began, actually. I must’ve been 15 years old – an ideal age for vulnerability.

Like any other eating disorders, bulimia stems from many factors which may include abuse (sexual or otherwise), social status (mostly from the higher class) and of course, low self-esteem, the last one being the most common. I was neither sexually abused nor was I from a rich family. Personally, I don’t think I had such a low self-esteem to resort to bulimia. There was more to the picture than me thinking lowly of myself. Society and mass media definitely have a big impact on why girls feel that way about their bodies.

Everyday we are bombarded with images of stick-figured women with full breasts and toned muscles, women with no stretch marks, no flabs, no unnecessary bulges here and there. How can society expect young women to be comfortable with who they are when the standard of beauty has been raised so high, even the most attractive of girls fall prey to the trap that is “I-AM-NOT-GOOD-ENOUGH”?

In my case, I didn’t feel that fat at all – just not sexy or thin or petite enough. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t quite get those Britney abs, J.Lo butt, Kylie legs and Madonna arms. I thought that by regurgitating everything that brushed against the walls of my stomach, I would look a lot less ugly. I started with my right index finger until I became numb to the feeling and had to use both the pointer and middle fingers. By the time I quit, I have had my entire fist inside my mouth, four digits wriggling inside to further induce the vomiting.

The peak of all this insanity came during the lowest point of my college life. I literally have become scared of eating that my friends would force-feed me, then refuse to let me go to the comfort room for fear that the food I just ate will go down the toilet. More often than not, however, it did (and my family had no idea). Sure, I was skinny. But I was also dehydrated and my face screamed of acne. My quest to look better turned against me and I ended up in a very bad shape.

My liberation came in the form of an episode in Oprah where Dr. Phil explained that people are bulimic because they have tagged themselves that. The instance you label yourself something, you start living up to that label. When I said I was bulimic, my mind began to form a construct of what a bulimic should be and functioned according to that form. All it took was my detachment from the word “bulimic”. I became instead, a person who was suffering from bulimia.

It was such a light bulb moment because that very idea about labels applied not only to eating disorders but to life in general. I mean, if I labeled myself a fangirl then I’d start getting obsessed and spastic. If I labeled myself a smoker, then the more I’d be inclined to smoke everyday. If I labeled myself emo, my look wouldn’t be complete without eye liner and a lip ring.

My choice to stop being “bulimic” was reinforced when it was slapped on my face that millions of people die of starvation and malnutrition for lack of decent food, whilst I, in the comfort of my home, have the nerve to waste away my blessings. So much apathy and selfishness on my part and it made me feel ashamed!

I have not done it in about three years now and frankly, I have no intentions to. I falter every now and then and I still often think I’m not thin enough. But what keeps me focused is the thought that real women come in different shapes, sizes and colors. We have wide hips, bulgy tummies, flat chests, short legs and excess fat. We are not supposed to look alike, otherwise the world would be such a dull place to live in. That’s what personalities and talents and values are for.

Believe me, I’ve come to learn that funny is the new sexy.

Kring Elenzano
031206

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That’s where the name of this blog came from. To be honest with you, I still struggle with this once in a while when I feel really shitty about my self. And then I’m reminded of the young women who are probably going through the same things that I went through before. And then I become unstupid and just tell my self to be strong. ^_^