At my childhood best friend Ashley’s house, the pantry was big enough to sit in, and when we were bored, we did just that, eating whatever was around us. The pantry was long and narrow, cool and dark, with hardwood floors obscured by tins of flour and multi-flavored popcorn. It was a tight squeeze, and […]Read More Found Wanting: Burning With Anger, The Hidden Truth of Eating Disorders
“Ha I ate” I said to Ana “Ha today you did tomorrow will be different just you wait and see” Photo Credit: katie_mccolgan Flickr via Compfight cc About Rachelle CameronMy name is Rachelle Cameron, I am 27 years old and have been writing for many years. I have been published in the online journal Typishly.com […]Read More Ha
I tell her “not today” I tell her “watch me eat” She chuckles “sure you will feel free to try” I breathe deeply She’s exhausting to fight she knows it Sometimes letting her have her way is the easiest solution to my problems Photo Credit: Dear, max Flickr via Compfight cc About Rachelle CameronMy name […]Read More Solution
The voice is telling me “You’re worthless” “You’re unlovable” “Starve yourself then maybe you could actually succeed at something” It won’t stop It’s merged with mine I’m believing each lie Photo Credit: hansvandenberg30 Flickr via Compfight cc About Rachelle CameronMy name is Rachelle Cameron, I am 27 years old and have been writing for […]Read More The Voice
Anorexia She’s there when no-one else is She’s my late night conversations when I’m too hungry to sleep She’s keeping me calm as I lose control of my world She’s protecting me from everyone My best friend Photo Credit: AK Rockefeller Flickr via Compfight cc About Rachelle CameronMy name is Rachelle Cameron, I am 27 […]Read More Best Friend
All forms of desire that shouldn’t be desired slither into her young mind. No two thighs touching and the sighs they breath out: consulting. Cautious and crude the raw flakes are dancing. A fresh, soft bow plunged across a clean sky. Flowery revolts and nights spent cleaning after her messy self (sifting, succumbing; brain-dead, overcoming) […]Read More And A Glimpse
Fatty, fatty two by four, can’t fit through the kitchen door. Their names and faces are lost in history, but their words remain my constant truth. School yard chant buried deep under my skin, wrapped around my heart, that creeps through my brain, popping up like a boogey monster whenever I look in the mirror. […]Read More Seeing Myself Through My Own Eyes
Still, I believed I needed to look good to be happy. I worked out like crazy and tried to hide my bad teeth, which had been further damaged in a bicycle accident. Even after I found a great boyfriend who convinced me to get help for my eating disorder—probably saving my life in the process—I hated looking in mirrors.Read More Why Can’t I Look Like Stevie Nicks?