Shine Me Brite

I woke up that morning with the best intentions.  . . . I had my meals planned, my water bottle filled, and my willpower set on high.  Today was supposed to be another successful day of staying on track, fueling my body with balanced meals, and proving to myself that I had control.  . . . But by the time the sun set, I found myself surrounded by empty wrappers, my stomach uncomfortably full, and my mind drowning in guilt. . It started small.  A little extra peanut butter on my toast at breakfast. No big deal.  Then, a few unplanned bites of chocolate while making lunch. Still manageable.  . . . But as the day went on, the cravings grew louder.  My stress levels were rising, my self-control was slipping, and that little voice in my head started whispering, You’ve already messed up today, so what’s the point? And that’s when it happened. . I gave in.  I stopped fighting.  . . . I raided the kitchen, eating anything that felt comforting—chip...

  Dear Diary, It started with a comment—casual, thoughtless, the kind of thing someone says and forgets in seconds. But I didn’t forget. “You have a little fat on your arms.” . . . Maybe they didn’t mean it cruelly. Maybe it was just an observation. But to me, it wasn’t just words. It was a verdict. A confirmation of the thing I feared most: that my body was too much. That I was too much. And just like that, my world flipped upside down. . . . Church used to be my safe space, a place where I could sing, laugh, and feel at peace. But after that comment, I couldn’t enjoy it anymore.  Sitting with my friends, all I could think about was how I looked.  During worship, instead of lifting my hands in praise, I worried about how big my arms looked when I raised them.  Fellowship meals weren’t about bonding anymore—they were just tables full of temptations, plates stacked with the enemy. . . . So on that day when my pastor brought burgers and fries for everyone, ...

  It was the first time I'd ever heard those words... . . . “ I'm fat?” ‘I'm fat?’ ‘When did I get fat?’ ”How did I get fat? Tens of thousands of thoughts raced through my head in just one second. . . . Then, I looked at the hamburgers and fries on the table in the church cafeteria  with dazed looks as if I had been hit on the head. . . . Only one second ago, I would have gobbled it up, thinking,  “Oooh, free food! Looks so yummy!” But in that one second, it seemed like my brain had turned upside down. . When the youth pastor saw that I was still standing,  she pulled the hamburger and fries in front of me, telling me to sit down and eat. . . . I reluctantly sat down, peeled the paper off the hamburger, and grabbed it with both hands. . . . As I held the burger in my hands, my thoughts moved at super speed,  like numbers in the Matrix movie. . 'Isn't this going to make me fat more?’ “ But I'm hungry….., Should I just eat half of it? “ Will ...

 In the blink of an eye, I looked at the empty bag of Doritos chips in my hand and thought,  “Eh? I finished it already?” Without much thought, I crumpled the bag and threw it in the trash can. . . . I got hungry within a few minutes, so I made myself some spicy instant ramen noodles  and finished with half a bowl of white rice.  Soon after, I brushed my teeth as it was time for bed and went to sleep. . . . During my high school years, I didn't eat anything all day at school. I didn't have any friends to sit and eat with,  and I feared what might happen to me sitting alone in the cafeteria,  which was loud and full of unstable high school energy. . I didn't realize I was hungry when I was in classes,  but when I got home from school,  I would feel a sudden rush of hunger as the tension would dissipate. . . . Since I came home starving after school every day,  my grandmother always prepared dishes for me to eat when I got home. . . ....

My bulimia began in my first year of high school.  . . . Ever since I was little, I've always been a normal-weight, slightly skinny girl.  That's why I've never experienced the stress of having to lose fat.  Thinking back, I barely ate anything when I was in elementary school,  and my parents were always worried about my skin and bone body.  I even went to the emergency room for intestinal malrotation (bowel twisting)  from starving for so long.  . . . As I continued to have an almost non-existent appetite, my parents started taking me to the swimming pool 2 to 3 days a week consistently.  After an hour or two of swimming weekly, I gradually began to have an appetite.  Although I ate significantly more than before, I didn't gain weight because I had been swimming consistently. . . . I am not sure if my body posture improved with swimming, but I had heard a lot of people around that time compliment my body figure. But one day, when I was in my...