Every 62 minutes somebody dies due to an eating disorder. There are many types of eating disorders including Anorexia, bulimia, muscle dysmorphia, binge eating, and more. This is a story about a girl named Ashely who suffered from one...
I sit in the school cafeteria eating my lunch, when my friend Rachel says "Are you really going to eat all of that food?"
I look at her confused. "Why shouldn't I?"
She sighs and rolls her eyes at me. "Well I'm just saying, you say you want to be a model, but you eat so much. Models don't do that."
I stare at her in shock. My doctor tells me I'm a healthy weight, but is she right? Am I too big to be a model?
"I'll be back," I mumble grabbing my food and throwing it out on my way out of the cafeteria. I rush to the nearest bathroom
I look into the mirror and recoil immediatly.
That can't be me. I look closer. It is me. God, Rachel was right, I really am fat. I stare at my ugly reflection tears starting to fill my eyes. What am I going to do? I have to get rid of the food I already ate. I can't let it stay inside of me, it'll make me 10 times fatter.
I quickly race into a stall, lock the door and sit down in front of the toilet. I've seen girls make themselves throw up on tv, it can't be that hard right?
I push my fingers all the way into the back of my mouth into my throat and start to gag, I keep going untill I suddenly vomit. It keeps coming, and I don't have any time to catch my breathe. Finally nothing else is coming up, it's all out of my system. I sit back panting.
I get up, and leave my stall. I wash my hands and rinse out my mouth. Then I look at myself, and I smile. I am already looking better now that now that I have all of that food out of my system. I need to stop eating for a while if I'm going to become a model like I want to be.
When school finally finishes, and I get home, I go into my bathroom and step onto the scale in there. I look down. I weigh 125 pounds. I make a promise to myself. I will not eat untill I am only 90 pounds, because then I will be pretty.
Three months go by, and I am now 85 pounds. I have only ate four meals within those three months. Mostly Iv'e just been drinking lots of water and chewing gum. When people have been offering me food, I say I'm not hungry. And it's true. I mean yea I was hungry at first, but after a couple of weeks of not eating I stopped being hungry. I guess I got used to it, or something. I know I had just planned on not eating untill I was 90 pounds, but I don't want to start eating again. I don't want to get fat again. Plus I still need to lose more, if I want to be pretty enough to be a model.
I'm running laps in school, when I start to get dizzy and light headed. I stop to catch my breathe, I'm super shaky and I don't feel good at all. I don't know what's going on with me. All of a sudden everything goes black.
When I finally regain consisness I realize I had passed out. I sit up and look around. Nobody has noticed because we were running laps around the school property and nobody was around where I was. I consider this a good thing, because I don't want to go to the hospital where they will force me to eat.
When I get home I go straight to my room. I sit on my bed thinking, I can't go to school anymore, because I can't risk passing out in front of anyone.
The next day when my alarm on my clock goes off, I ignore it and go back to bed. Around ten thirty I get up, get dressed and put my sneakers on. I need to go on my daily mile run, that way I can lose weight faster. I put on a long sleave shirt and a sweatshirt over top of that even though it is 90 degrees outside, that way I can sweat off more calories faster.
I'm about halfway through my run when I collapse. I wake up, but cannot get up. I'm shaking to bad. I lay on the street gasping for air, and crying because I'm scared of the fact that I can't get up. My vision starts to get dark and blurry and all of a sudden there is a bright light and I can finally get up. So I do and walk towards it. When I turn around, I see myself lying there in the road, and I realize I had died.
I stare at my dead body. I can't have died, there's no way. But that's the only way this would make sense. Why did I die though?
Three months have gone by since I've been dead. My funeral has already passed. The reason for my passing was that my body was over exerted and didn't have enough nutrients to support all the excersize I was putting myself through. My weight at death was 76 pounds. I died at 16 years old. All I was trying to do was become pretty by losing weight. I wasn't trying to die. I just wanted to be pretty enough to be a model, and this happened.
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United States • 21 years old