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Personal Narrative Analysis

1142 Words5 Pages

Normally I’m not one to talk of my issues. I felt that they came from a place of weakness, and I never wanted to be perceived as weak. Instead, I’ve always been known as the kind of person who could crack a joke, make others smile, and always be there to help an individual in need. Couple these aforementioned positive things with my grades, and people assumed that my life was in pristine condition. However, no one knew of the problems I dealt with personally. My teachers, my friends, and my parents were never people I saw as confidants that could be trusted with any form of sensitive information. As a result, I bottled up my issues with self-perception for what seemed like ages. Now, against popular opinion, my weight has always been a problem …show more content…

I came to the conclusion that I’d never be desirable for my family and friends let alone those that caught my romantic attention. To add, I’d heard comments from a friend that were made in regards to my weight. I was consciousness enough to realize that this could’ve been nothing but run-of-the mill gossip, but these comments struck at my heart nonetheless. At this point, I was so sick of feeling less than that of the ground I walked on. I was tired of feeling like I didn’t belong in my own body, and I was tired of myself for always pointing it out in the worst ways possible. So, after countless failed attempts, I decided to do something about come the start of the New …show more content…

Whenever I did eat something that I knew was not advantageous to my health I would normally cast it out of my body through purging. I would go about the whole process when I knew no one was around, and I gave the whole act little to no attention. It was just something that became a part of a routine of which I paid no mind to due to the fact that I considered it the most normal thing in the world. I’d heard about models that partook in the “cotton ball diet” in which the feeling of being full was achieved by dipping balls of cotton in some sort of beverage and then ingested, and I also read of people who had bulimia, but I never thought that I had any sort of problem. It felt as if I could quit at any moment, but I never did. I was entranced and entangled within the web of reactions that everyone had concerning my appearance. However, during one weekend, I became ill with a nasty stomach virus. This virus caused me to throw up whatever contents were in my stomach no matter how little I had eaten. For more than half of the morning, and the better part of the night, the bathroom became my close

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