You could hurt me using the sharp edge of what you say

A topic that I've been writing about lately, and that I hoped I could devote some portion of this blog to, though done carefully so as not to come across as a whiny feminazi, is eating disorders. Specifically anorexia. It's something that I've unfortunately had a recent, difficult struggle with, and something that I feel I'll probably be struggling with, albeit in a less threatening capacity, for the rest of my life. It sure has taken up a big enough portion of it already, and rather than wasting even more time than I already have getting tangled up in it again, I think that expressing what I'm able to at times about what I've done, why I did it, and what I've learned in the interim can only be positive. Both selfishly for me, and on the off chance that someone else who might be in a similar situation can gain something from it.

I hadn't planned on talking about the issue until much later, when I've managed to gather my thoughts on the ordeal a little better. It's only within the last couple of weeks that I've even started collecting some pieces in my own journal, and I've been a healthy weight since about May, following the therapies that I began in February. What I'm getting at is that although I realize the importance of talking about it, at times the situation overwhelms me and it's hard to compartmentalize what happened into logical writing, so I wanted a little bit more time and personal writing before I made anything about my experience even slightly more public through this.

But I had to start today after what I just read. This afternoon I posed for a class at one of the art schools where I work as a model. I was working for an amazing teacher (aside: he happens to be one of the first teachers I ever worked for, over two and a half years ago, and his kindness and wonderful personality were highly influential in making me as comfortable as I quickly became with this school and what I do there) and I hadn't worked for one of his classes in almost a year, I think. Last summer I did some private work for him, posing for a book he was illustrating as well as for his series of drawing tutorials. I had so much fun working with him on these projects, and I think everything we worked on turned out fantastic. 

I just happened to be suffering severely with my eating disorder at the time, although I still had about 10-15 pounds to lose that would put me into the dangerous place that I somehow managed to maintain for quite awhile. Anyway, some of these videos are online, and he mentioned that he's had to delete some comments from them. I assumed this was because I'm in a black lace bra and boyshorts in the photo/drawing he used for the main tutorial. I was curious though, so I looked the videos up when I got home. He had given me copies of the DVDs so I could see what he'd done, and I'd never thought to check out what was going on with them online. And I kind of wish I hadn't.

The comments that viewers wrote were heartbreaking for me to read. Lately I've been trying to spend more time getting into shape without going overboard, and I've been feeling negatively about my weight and appearance, what with cold weather coming on and not being able to fit into my last year's jeans and other silly but somehow devastating daily occurrences. But I've stayed clear of starvation and the patterns that I used to cling to while working towards being thinner, toned and in shape like I was last summer, particularly around the time that these photos were taken. Even though I still felt like I was disgustingly fat then, I can appreciate now how thin I actually was. I've felt sure that attaining this weight and look would be possible through sticking to the healthy patterns that I adopt at the beginning of a diet, before things slide out of control. 

I guess I've been fixating on what I looked like at that point somewhat, which I know isn't healthy, but no recovery is ever flawless. But I think this fixation is why reading these anonymous peoples' reactions struck me so harshly, because the wanting I've been feeling for that time is so intense it's almost painful.

Some comments include:

• nice, for some reason the girl you drew looks prettier
  
• AWESOME btw he changes the shape of her face alot
• i think he just changed her lips, on his picture they are fuller and smaller than the ref picture.
• I agree with some comments, your girl looks much better than the actual girl.
• wow the drawing is hotter than the actual girl
• It's the mouth. The mouth in the sketch is sexier. The eyes are a bit better too. Great work.
• she looks prettier in ur sketch
• yeah she does
• the girl on the drawn picture looks better than the girl at the real picture - her face at your girl looks way more attractive
  
• i concur.
• Yea, drawing is hotter

And so on in this vein. There were obviously a lot of comments about the strength of his artistic skill and whatnot, but there were many of these. But all of them combined weren't as disturbing as this one, which made me freeze up in that way usually just reserved for getting caught in headlights or stealing something:

"His drawing looks better than the girl because when you look at the girl your subconscious knows something is wrong with her. She has some sort of eating disorder. He correct[s] this and makes her look healthy in the drawing."

I know it sounds vain and ridiculous, but this got me extremely upset. It's one thing to just accept the way you look for what it is, it's quite another to have people comparing your photo to a drawing and exclaiming over how much better the drawing is, how your entire overall appearance can actually be improved on, and even mentioning specific tweakings like eyes and lips. I've been art modeling for a couple of years and I never hear anyone compare a drawing to me like this. Comparisons are made, obviously, but I guess they're toned down if I'm in the room. Or maybe the mind just doesn't operate as critically when the object of criticism is within earshot. Not actually knowing me, only making these comparisons based on the photo they see in the video is safe and anonymous and viewers surely aren't considering the connection to a real person. Rationally I know this. Irrationally, I still feel like someone slapped me.

And what really stopped me cold is that someone identified the fact that I was suffering a disorder in the photo. Up until this point, a few people who had known me all along when I was curvy (as I am again) and saw the weight loss had expressed a little concern, but nothing like what was to come when I became skeletal. The majority of what I heard about my appearance however was highly complimentary, both from new acquaintances and those who knew I had been losing. It's certainly difficult to reconcile so many conflicting messages, particularly when the brain is at a much lower level of mental processing and functionality when it's been deprived for so long.

I'm going to end this now, but I might come back to it. I realize that I've said a lot without really saying much of anything at all. It was too much for me at the moment to just leave it.

Many happy returns, or at least one

I used to blog way back in the day, for a couple of years, and I loved it. It's an awesome way to do some of my favorite things: write, provide commentary on social and pop culture issues (on which I've deemed my opinion to be of value) and talk about myself. The problem with the old blog is that I always end up mixing personal issues in with my commentaries on everything else, and it became really difficult to decide where to draw the line with anonymity, and how to respectfully relate stories about my everyday situations without offending anyone, and who of my personal acquaintances to tell that I had a blog, etc. And it turns out I wasn't paranoid either, because I did get stalked, on at least one unpleasant occasion.

But I really miss writing casually and letting people read it, and I've seen other bloggers who've also straddled the icky line between anonymity and honesty and who have sometimes been outed, SOMETIMES even after talking about their STDs (sorry, no such itchy excitement to be found here) but I think I'll just have to do my best.

It all comes down to Gossip Girl, honestly. My love for that show and my need to analyze and talk about it daily is basically to blame for this. But at least in this case, the trashily scandalous Upper East Side ends justify the at-least-I'm-trying-to-write-regularly means.