I feel like I will not be able to function until I straighten out what is going on in my own head. I should not be allowed to function. How many times have I convinced myself that I have beaten this personality flaw? This Chronic Disease? I cannot even come up with a scientific name for this problem. It oscillates somewhere between a lack of self-esteem and an eating disorder. No, I am not an official anorexic or bulimic. I do not starve myself for days or weeks on end. And I know enough of the science behind bulimia not to participate. My Disease has a lack of structure that makes it hard to quantify, much less explain on some blog post, but who knows, maybe it will help me find a Cure.
I have heard all the facts. I have gone to the talks, read the articles and the books. I have talked to all the right people. I’ve heard all the right phrases: “You are made in the image of God.” “You shouldn’t be worrying so much about what you look on the outside, but what you are becoming on the inside.” But then, on the other hand I hear: “Christians should present themselves in a manner worthy of the Gospel.” “Christians should be clean and respectable, take care of their bodies and their opportunities, in order to make the Gospel as attractive as possible.” “We should be responsible with our money, our time, our job (or schoolwork), and our corrupted temples that God has gifted to us.” Every time I look at my figure in the mirror, I feel like I am letting down my Creator in some way. That by not having a 24″ waist and a flat tummy, I have wasted my life and the gift of a healthy body somehow.
I know I am not obese in the clinical sense of the word. I may be overweight according to the age vs. weight chart, but I’ve given up on that cause long ago. Not to seem cocky or self-glorifying, but I have too much muscle mass to weigh 120 pounds. I’ve even had doctors tell me that even though I weight upwards of 145, they don’t know where I put it all. I’m fine with that, I really am. But some days, I count calories obsessively, and freak out if I go above 1000 per day. Other days, I say screw it all (these usually occur around free food or a time of month) and eat the food that college kids are known for. I think: “I am on the Club Soccer Team! I practice twice a week and play pick-ups at least one other time a week! I run every freakin’ day unless its sleeting or below 45 degrees! I live off of rice, yogurt, and canned fruit, for pete’s sake! I should not have to count my calories, obsessing over nutritional labels and grams of fiber and sugar and fat and Niacin! This is not the way to live!
You know all those sappy chick movies like The Wedding Planner, 50 First Dates, The Wickerman, Sleepless in Seattle, movies like that? There is always the part where either the woman or the man of the story curls up on the coach, crouches on the stairs, or slides down a wall and melts onto the floor in tears. There are so many times I wish I could do that over, and over, and over. Just so it would feel like I actually have a serious problem, because I know I have one, but I am too intellectual and reasoned to realize this. I am too intelligent. My life is too perfect. I have it all under control. This is just a bad day, a bad week. Well, how about a bad year since 2000?
I don’t have a problem! I have a loving family, a wonderful beau. I have friends who seek me out in order to hang out with me and get advice. I have money and a fun job. I’m attending a University on a full-ride scholarship and have every reason to expect an invitation to be in a DVM Class of 2013 in at least one school of Veterinary Medicine. I play the best sport in the world, and I have the legs and the lack of disease and genetic disorders to allow me to play soccer, and run every day, and snowboard, and do whatever other crazy things I love to do! I even have a Saviour who loves me more than the foundations of the Earth and sacrificed everything for my salvation and His glory! What have I to be pathetic and angsty about?
I was hoping writing this all out would help me find some semblance of reason in it all. I guess my cure will have to wait, as all I feel like doing now is curling up on my bed with my Pride and Prejudice DVD and watering my pillow.