What’s really baking my beans…

I’ll just cut to the chase. I’m angry… I’m angry at that many things, its difficult to know which one to write first.

I should definitely be revising. As my mum quite rightly points out, getting even a passable grade in these exams is more important than being a certain dress size, or worrying constantly about eating too much… In fact, I’ll just save the space and say you could insert pretty much any of my daily moans here and yes, indeed, exam revision would undoubtedly be more important…

But, I don’t even want to be alive, let alone revise.

That’s right, self indulgence still reigns on and I’m sorry to report that I’m still not any closer to waking up, high-fiving myself. It’s quite the conundrum and to say its affecting my concentration would be the positive way of looking at it.

I’m angry that I can’t ‘distract myself’ with revision. Revision could be coming in handy here. To distract me from quite how awful I feel about myself would be a good one. Two, would be to distract myself from thinking about food and panicking about when I’m next going to eat. And three would be to use revision as an excuse to start restricting again and fire up that relapse I’ve been lusting after for ages.

That brings my nicely on to something else that I’m angry about; I can’t even restrict anyway. Of course, that wouldn’t really be in the spirit of “recovery” but it’s just an observation.

I’m also angry at the fact that, supposedly, when you’re above a certain BMI/weight your mood improves (something to do with hormones), supposedly your concentration improves and supposedly you start thinking more rationally. Part of said rational thought is you no longer think the skeletal look is a good one. Well, I smashed said “healthy” weight a while ago so… WHENEVER YOU’RE READY, PLEASE!

I read something in the paper last week that- yep, you guessed it- made me angry. Serena Williams, one of the best female tennis players in the world, felt that actually, such an achievement still wasn’t as important as the way her waistline looked in a photo. As the article pointed out, after the backlash the (quite obviously) photoshopped image caused, she eventually replaced it with the original.

What does this tell, not just our girls, but also our boys? And, what if you haven’t got a host of impressive grand-slam victories to your name OR a perfectly streamline waist? Then what?

On the same page of this article was another, detailing the results of an American study which has revealed what actually the “perfect” waist measurement is for a woman…

Angry is now not even cutting it. I’d best move on to my next “beef” before I throw my computer out of the window and that won’t be so great when I eventually do decide to get some work done…

I tell you what’s making me really bloody angry, is the way in which I’m supposed to get better by assuming normal habits, such as: ‘Stick to a meal plan,’ ‘Don’t eat outside of breakfast, lunch and dinner,’ ‘get used to normal eating again,’ ‘love your body.’- The last one in particular is a personal highlight:

How are we ever meant to even accept ourselves, never mind “love” ourselves, in a world which points out how we could be better at every single turn? And, even being a world number one isn’t enough. I’m exasperated.

I can’t write one word on my 3000 word assignment but could quite easily go on for page after page on why this “normality” people keep shoving down my throat is total rubbish.

I have a friend who I’ve always thought is healthy- she eats ‘what she wants’, ‘treats herself on occasion’ and wakes up nearly every morning skipping to the gym. She is envied by many women who wish they had her motivation, her energy and her toned physique. I thought she was just brilliant at being a human and wondered why I wasn’t made like that… Recently, she hinted at the possibility of having made herself sick ‘once or twice’ and not ever really realising it was a problem…

I have another friend, not considered ‘ill’ in any sense of the word but if she isn’t on one ridiculously restrictive diet, she is on another and god forbid if she eats after 7pm. Recently, she told me we couldn’t go out for the day because it would upset her diet plan and she couldn’t trust herself to pick something “healthy.” And supposedly, I’m the one that’s nuts?

These are just a few of many examples of the women around me and, for me, it shows quite what is severely wrong with the word “normal.”

It’s “normal” to see certain sizes dominating the media and we are told that this is what is “normally” attractive. How, then, can it be “normal” if the way of achieving it- torturing yourself over food, letting it dictate your life, resorting to destructive behaviours to ‘compensate’- is so abnormal? How can it be a “normal” standard for us to aspire to when, as photoshop reminds us, it doesn’t even exist?

We actually know all the above, but it still doesn’t stop us perpetuating it.

I’m angry that I even care. I’m angry that I can’t just passively accept it and get on with my day. But I’m mainly angry that I’m being told how to not be “disordered” when actually, that’s what seems to be the most normal.

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