by Danah Khalil
THIS IS BALANCE.
I KNOW IT.
Jesus, I do not think I ever want to hear the word balance again. It is always on my mind, running ahead of me in this grueling race; impossible to catch up to and attain.
Why is it so difficult to attain? There is no black or white answer. I can only listen to my body, and – if Ed’s voice eases off – listen to my thoughts. This is what I struggle with the most. I never listen. Perhaps that should be my New Year’s resolution.
January 5, 2015
Just two stores ago, I tried on this other beautiful form-fitting dress that made me smile from ear to ear; I looked lean and mature and elegant. It accentuated my curves perfectly.
This current dress, however, does the complete opposite. Somehow, it manages to place a flashing red light directly over my flabby lower belly, practically inviting everyone to stare at it.
I am horrified.
“Danah, are you coming out or what?” Mother calls.
I call back in a shaky voice, still upset by my reflection. “Uh…no, I don’t like it on me.”
“So, should we go back to that other store and buy the dress you liked?” Mother asks.
Do not even fucking bother.
That will only expose your fat, too.
“No thanks,” I reply. That dress probably looked far more atrocious on me than I thought.
January 9, 2015
Panic and guilt and panic and guilt and panic and guilt and panic and guilt and panic and guilt and panic and guilt and panic and guilt and panic and guilt and panic and guilt so I binge and purge and binge and purge and binge and purge and binge and purge and binge and purge and binge and purge and binge and purge and binge and purge and binge and purge and binge and purge again and again and again and again and again and again and again until I hate myself more and more and more and more and more every damn day.
Okay, so I may not have been doing the traditional form of purging by sticking my finger down my throat, but I have to admit that I was purging through over-exercising.
As I devoured a large stack of pumpkin pancakes with maple syrup at a breakfast restaurant this morning, I thought that I would surely gain weight. So naturally, this caused me to skip lunch and spend the afternoon in the gym and on my yoga mat. I was feeling good about my decisions at that point, until the moment I arrived home and realized how truly famished I was. So naturally, this caused me to eat an entire box of pasta, ten miniature cucumbers, and a few pieces of leftover chicken kabob.
Who the fuck eats that much in one sitting?
I felt terrible; I could barely stand; I could barely breathe. All I could do was lie down and surrender myself to Ed as he screamed and demanded that I get off of my lazy ass and work off the thousands of calories that the monster within me had inhaled. Naturally, this caused me to go on an hour-long walk on the treadmill, and secretly do my emergency workout of 1000 reps of neck tugs, push-ups, crunches, squats, and calf raises like a fucking maniac.
“Danah, how many times have you done this now?” Mother questioned me once I had finished complaining about how sick and bloated I felt. “Learn from your mistakes…seriously.”
She was clearly irritated, but honestly, she had every right to be. I have made this same mistake many times just in the past month alone, and if I am growing tired of living it, surely Mom is tired of hearing my complaining, the heavy thumping of my feet on the treadmill, and the constant sound of food being prepared in the kitchen late at night.
This whole day just leads me to believe that I have really made very little improvement over the past three fucking years.
Maybe I should just never eat or exercise again and just die…. That would solve all of my problems now, wouldn’t it?
January 12, 2015
Carbs used to be my absolute enemy back in the midst of my disorder a few years ago. It is so refreshing and eccentric to see how far I have come and how far my diet and lifestyle has evolved since then. Carbs are an absolute staple in my diet now, whether they include complex carbs like fruits and vegetables, or starches like pasta and rice and potatoes.
I have been inspired by the vegan blogs on Tumblr and Instagram, but also, it really has come down to preference. I would much prefer a simple and very large bowl of plain pasta with vegetables and chickpeas to a stew of meat or a seafood dish. I am so envious of the glorious HCLF (high carb, low fat) plates of food that I see from these vegan stars online: so many carbs and so little guilt.
But alas, my parents will never allow me to go vegan – especially coming out of a disordered past – but what I can do for now is prepare myself for my future and really try to eat vegan breakfasts and lunches.
Will it be difficult to do so? Absolutely not, because animal product alternatives are what my body craves.
But is it what you truly crave, or is it what I am persuading you to crave?
January 13, 2015
Why am I constantly fatigued? I really do mean constantly. Perhaps it is because I wake up at 6 a.m. every morning. I get six to seven hours of rest every night. Is this enough? Studies have shown that eight is ideal for a student, but that is simply unrealistic for me. Upon returning home from volleyball at 10:30 p.m., I must complete my daily yoga for 30 minutes, shower, finish studying, and then finally hit the bed. How can anyone this preoccupied get eight whole hours of sleep?
Sometimes, even on weekends, I blame my lack of sleep on my lack of late-night eating. My growling stomach wakes me up at six instead of letting me sleep in. After all, the latest I eat is 4:00 in the afternoon, and I never snack after volleyball or the gym in the evenings…. Normally water fills me up enough, but maybe this lifestyle is taking too much of a toll on my sleeping patterns.
Are you telling me that if you snack, you will sleep better?
What kind of a twisted world do you live in?
Get a grip; that way of thinking is absurd.
You will not snack late at night.
And you will not snack at all.
Stop being such a baby.
Nap if you need to.
But when I wake up after a nap, my mind assumes it’s morning, so my stomach growls for breakfast. Napping just makes everything worse!
Okay, well then, suck it up.
I don’t know what else to tell you.
January 16, 2015
I have this blurry memory of my friends feeding me a slice of bread when I was wasted as shit last night. If this is true, and I really was fed a fucking slice of toast at 2:00 a.m., I am going to flip.
How can I find out the truth? If I ask my friends, they will think I am insane and ungrateful for their help….
Their help?
Are you stupid?
Or should I be asking if they are stupid?
Everyone knows that feeding someone carbs while they are drunk doesn’t help.
They wanted to feed you late at night.
Your friends are terribly selfish.
They want you to gain weight.
Never again will you drink.
January 22, 2015
The school ski trip is just around the corner, and the déjà-vu of my anxiety regarding the grade 8 Quebec trip is terrifying. The questions are never-ending and always the same.
How will I work out?
What – and how much – will I eat?
How will alcohol affect my calorie intake?
Will my friends care – or even notice – if I restrict?
Will there be enough room and time for my daily yoga?
Is the plan to eat out at restaurants, or make our own meals?
Is Ed going to accompany me by hiding in my suitcase?
It worries me that I am still the anxious mess I was three years ago. But I have reason to be afraid. After all, four days and three nights really is a long time to dump the “clean” eating habits
and intense workouts that I am accustomed to.
I want to talk about it with someone – a friend, preferably – but I know that I will only be judged, and pegged as the girl who has an eating disorder, just like I was on the Quebec trip.
Some things never change.
January 27, 2015
I scrape the sides of the food processor until the muscles of my arm plead for me to stop. I am so wired that I am unable to waste even the smallest remnants of food. I need the all of the nutrients and fats and sugars that I can get to compensate for the excessive exercise of the night before. While eating at only three points during the day, I make sure that I eat and lick until the plate is shining.
I wonder if this is normal.
I wonder if I am normal.
January 28, 2015
Daily Meals & Exercise Schedule 2015:
Day of the Week
Breakfast
Lunch
Work Out
Monday
Smoothie Bowl
Rice, corn, chickpeas
Chest & Shoulders
Tuesday
Baked Treat
Pasta salad
Volleyball Practice
Wednesday
Toast & Toppings
Couscous, lentils, veg
Tri, Bi, & Back
Thursday
Raw Treat
Pasta, tomatoes, tofu
Volleyball Practice
Friday
Layered Jar
Cauliflower rice bowl
Lower Body
Saturday
Yogurt Bowl
Pasta Salad
Home Workout
Sunday
Pancakes
Potatoes, roasted veg
Cardio
* EVERY LUNCH MUST HAVE A CARB, A FAT, & A VEGGIE
February 1, 2015
“Jesus, Danah, why do you always wear these gross, oversized sweatpants every time you leave the house?” Mother asked again this week.
I let out a hefty sigh. “For the hundredth time, Mom, I am just seeing my friends for a movie night. Everyone wears sweats. Can you please just get off my back?”
“No, I will not get off your back. Frankly, I am sick and tired of seeing my daughter hide her perfect figure in baggy clothes!”
I pushed past Mom to leave the house quickly, as my sister called out to me.
“And why don’t you try a little thing called makeup every now and then? You look like you could be my brother!”
I do not care about clothes or makeup. And I don’t see anything wrong with the way I dress. Sure, my clothes are often baggy when I go to school or a friend’s place, but they are tight and sexy in the gym – just like my body.
As for Mother suggesting that I hide my body, well, that is complete bullshit. I love my body; never would I want to hide it. These people think they know me. They don’t know half of who I really am.
Yes, because I control that half of you.
February 4, 2015
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
I constantly find ways to become paranoid and suspicious about practically everything related to my food.
What if, on their mission to have me gain weight, my family has been adding sugar and salt to my food all along? Or what if, after we’ve argued, my sister fucking spits in my food and touches all of it?
The idea terrifies me. It absolutely terrifies me. I should not be this afraid or paranoid, but I am.
I am.
I am.
I am.
I really am fucked up.
And it is all thanks to Ed.
No need to thank me, baby.
Trust me, it is my pleasure.
February 6, 2015
Even after eating a whopping portion of pasta with loads of beans and veggies, I am still able to fall in love with my strong, sexy reflection in the mirrors at the gym.
Yes, sweat it out.
You are beautiful.
I can’t disagree with Ed on this one; I really am beautiful, especially when I sweat. Of course, I do have the occasional complaint, but in general, I am so proud of how far I have come in terms of my mental health. The physical improvements are obvious, but this new level of self-love and confidence for my figure and fitness is indescribable. I am literally beaming. When was the last time I smiled this brightly?
I have come to realize it is perfectly fine to be a little screwed up at times. Everyone has a little demon poking out every now and then. What matters is asking for help when it’s needed and feeling radiant and proud when it’s deserved. I am not perfect by any means – nor will I ever be – but I have grown to accept myself. I am surrounded by positivity and light.
I am an ambassador for self-acceptance and self-love; it is my duty to direct my friends on the right path when they go off on their rants:
“I am the ugly one in our group.”
“Why can’t my legs look like hers!?”
“Jeans look so terrible on me.”
“There is no way I have the body to pull that off.”
“I really should eat less crap and hit the gym.”
To that, I say NO MORE. Eat in abundance, and most importantly, eat whatever fuels you and whatever makes you joyful!
Who the fuck gave you a happy pill today?
I don’t know, Ed, but not even you can ruin my wonderful mood.
February 8, 2015
In a matter of two pitiful days, I have done a complete 180 about feeling body-confident and mentally healthy. All of a sudden, I’m finding things right, left, and center about myself that make me feel nauseated.
BUT
WAIT.
I
THOUGHT
I
WAS
HAPPY
WITH
MYSELF!
Well, it looks as though you
are terribly, terribly wrong.
February 9, 2015
The latest trend in the vegan community a 100-percent raw high carb, low fat diet. To be honest, I am not too certain if I even understand the point of consuming only raw food. Perhaps to better preserve all of the nutrients? And I don’t know if I could ever adopt such a lifestyle. Trust me, I love fruits and vegetables just as much as the next vegan, but could I eat a massive plate of fruit for dinner? So much would have to eliminated from my diet if I were to go raw: baked oatmeal, cookies and granola bars…. Then again, they could all be replaced by raw dishes like soaked oats or frozen goodies.
Maybe raw is better after all.
It is, trust me.
Less cooking oil equals less fat.
More nutrients, fruits, and veggies also equal less fat.
And what have we learned that less fat is equal to?
Weight loss and perfect bodies.
And happiness, of course.
Yes, happiness.
February 20, 2015
Even though I am proud of
myself – and extremely surprised – for not secretly exercising or practicing yoga during Mont Tremblant, I am disgusted about how ecstatic I was after puking up what must have been ten pounds of food (and alcohol) the very first night.
Does that make me bulimic? I honestly didn’t do it on purpose, but the embarrassment of the night was soon erased by delight.
Yes! Now I am free not to exercise for the rest of the trip. I have practically no food left in me, I thought to myself the next morning after I had sobered up. Even better, tonight, I won’t have to eat OR drink, thanks to my hangover.
I am sick.
I am so terribly sick.
Who even thinks like that?
I really thought I was recovering.
Now I realize there is no such thing as recovery.
February 23, 2015
I am so sick and tired of my entire family strolling into the kitchen while I cook, or appearing in the basement while I work out. Don’t they see how fucking obvious they are? Do they think I am stupid?
No, they think you are still sick.
Ignore them. They only want to learn from you.
They watch you exercise because they want your toned body.
They watch you cook because they want your healthy diet.
Don’t waste energy stressing over this.
Just take it as a compliment, baby.
But it’s hard to take it as a compliment when it makes me feel like they still don’t have a sliver of faith in me. It’s funny how much time I’ve spent trying to escape the demon, when maybe it’s my family I should escape from.
February 24, 2015
I have hit a yoga funk. The repetition of my daily practice has really been tough on me mentally and physically. My lower back is in constant pain, and deep down, I dread every time I step on the mat. But yoga isn’t an option. I created a daily routine. I must perform it daily with the same level of competence in the same time frame. No exceptions. No changes. Besides, Ed will never let me back off now. I have no choice but to find my groove again – somehow.