This is an excerpt of my book “Shattered Image”. Shattered Image is the story of my struggle with, and recovery from, a compulsive behavior clinically known as Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD). That struggle has included recovery from bulimia, anorexia, alcoholism, and addiction to cocaine and steroids. I also suffer from clinical depression. For decades, I engaged in self-destructive behavior with the single goal of correcting a terribly distorted sense of self-image, a self-image rooted in early life experiences. Release date is August 2013 See what people are saying about Shattered Image!
7:00 am. Rise and Shine! A Beautiful Day! What pants will I wear today? Which ones will make me feel less fat and ugly? Have not been working out as much as I should. I think I can see the new fat accumulating on my sides and back. Will any of them fit? They fit yesterday but today is a new day. My tension level rises. No longer enjoying the sunny morning, the birds singing. Depression setting in. Maybe I will wear a pair that has not been washed in a week. They are stretched out and will fit. I know it’s a lie but at least I wont start the day depressed. Maybe a shower “flattening” will work. Into the shower. Twist to the right, Twist to the left. I can see the extra fat! I knew it! Push down hard! Flatten it! Maybe it will not bounce back as much as the last one-thousand times I flattened it.
Out of the shower to the bathroom mirror. Stare. Stare. Stare at my stomach. Is it bigger? Thirty minutes have now passed staring at my stomach. Press down again on the love handles. Maybe that will create some room in the jeans. Deep breathe. First pair goes on. SHIT! There is less room! I can feel it. I can’t leave the house now! Try on the next pair! Dammit! Same feeling. It’s confirmed. My stomach has grown. On to the next pair. Pull them. Stretch them. I can’t leave the house until I get that comfort feeling of a pair of pants that create a cushion between my growing stomach and my brain.
There is my dry cleaned pair of dress pants. Those fit a little better. Thank god! What about that next pair. Have to make sure. Have to go downstairs and have my coffee while I think about it and de-stress. Back upstairs. I can’t deal with it today. Going with the smelly stretched out week old jeans. Put them out. I can feel that looseness. Maybe my stomach is ok. Relief washes over me. I can leave the house.
I remember those days all to well. During the worst part of my bulimia days, when I purchased new jeans, dress or shirt I would buy one of every size. There was so much panic when putting on clothes but near the panic I felt when looking into a mirror.
I couldn't help but to laugh out loud when I read it. I'm the female version. It's crazy, but as much as I hate it, I can't change. It helps knowing I'm not alone. Thank you for bringing this out of the closet.