Beauty is a hybrid of qualities, such as shape, color, or form that pleases the aesthetic senses, meaning sight. Beauty consists of an alteration of oneself. Based on the environment we live in, we attempt to fit into the mold that is held in front of us. My attempt at beauty came with the decision of anorexia.
As a child, beauty is seen as an open range of total bliss. I never thought twice about looking my best. I had been more preoccupied with playing outside and feeling the wind brush against my skin. As the years flew by, the hunger to feel beautiful began. Middle school was the wakeup call. I knew I was overweight, but I didn’t need anyone else reminding me of it. I had a P.E. class with a couple of cheerleaders, and they reminded my weight imperfection. Negative comments are forever remembered. It’s like having million Post-Its attached to your back and imagining everyone around you reading them. You look away hoping they don’t repeat a single word to your face. This paranoia grew to depression, and the depression caused me to eat even more. As a freshman in high school, I was now fourteen years of age, and a size forty-two in men’s pants. The negative comments began once again by the upperclassmen. I no longer began to eat my feelings.
I saw food as the enemy. And as the days progressed, my hunger began to slow down until the craving stopped altogether. As I got thinner, I felt more alive. I was beautiful. The mirror unveiled myself as I always imagined. At seventeen I was now over six feet tall, weighing at one-hundred and fifty pounds. Friends began to notice this drastic change, and praised my new transformation. Many joked about me taking diet pills or illegal substances. Others really wanted to know how I got so thin so fast, but I never told them the truth. The feeling of being noticed blurred my vision of anything else. It wasn’t until a teacher pointed out my weight loss. He pulled me aside one day and had a serious discussion about the new me. At that moment he was not my teacher, he was acting more like a parent. “I hope you’re okay,” he told me. Those words felt similar to a Band-Aid being ripped off revealing an opened wound. He saw what everyone else didn’t. I felt torn between both reality and my imagination. I remained thin throughout my high school career, and for some years after. Today, I still struggle with this disease. I am now at a normal weight, but focusing on being more fit and healthy. I had never felt the need to discuss this with anyone, but now that I am older, I feel the need to tell the world it is okay to be the way you are. I hope to save someone else from this pain that consumed me many years ago. Beauty is confidence, and happiness. It surpasses anything beyond physical. A pretty face and skinny waist does not last forever.