Perfecting the Art of Killing Myself for a Pretty Shell

I’m in my mid 20’s here. This is why I laugh when people just assume there was never a time when I wore heels, make-up and dresses cause, I sure did! I’m super duper skinny and not very healthy in this pic. I think I’m about 90 pounds here. All I know is that I went from 140 to 90lbs in a very short period of time. I was in the midst of an eating disorder and even though I have a smile on my face, I was incredibly unhappy and hungry…I was not made to be naturally thin…You can see my hip bones protruding out.


You think you’re fine, but you’re not. Your body is slowly shutting down.

Bulimia turned into anorexia…it became so easy not to consume food. I was able to throw up without making a single sound…at the time, I took pride in that. I had perfected the art of killing myself slowly on the inside to look good on the outside. I did this for 2 years.

I lived on lettuce and water and I threw that up too. I would pass out…my brother was so worried about me, he ratted me out to my parents.

The doc said I was lucky to be alive. In a big way my brother saved my life.

All bodies are different and mine wasn’t comfortable at this weight at all…but society said I had to look a certain way…so I gave in to the stupidity & put my mental state and my health at risk to look like something “acceptable.”

Screw that crap. Your shell will fade…and in the scheme of things, it doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside because ultimately, what people will remember about you is who you were as a person, how you made them feel and how you lived.

Happiness is an inside job.

I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I’m not proud of…I’m often embarrassed and *shudder* when I think about the things from my past whether it be things that happened years ago or just a few days ago, but…I’d like to think that all the bad, all the humiliating things and verbal diarrhea experiences can serve a purpose for something good and positive.

I choose to tell my stories whether good or bad because at the age of 41, I have no shame in my truths, my downfalls and moments of good.

I am who I am…completely flawed, broken, insecure, narcissistic and proud and while things change in life, one thing that never does is that we are all a continuous work in progress.

Eating disorders are no joke…stop the madness. If you need help, check out the website below and you can always reach out to me too in private.

Love you long time,


You may also like...