She is not your enemy. Don’t be afraid of her, she’s your best friend. You need her to survive. Come on, you can do it, nothing will happen. Just a bite. Just a bite won’t hurt.

But a bite would hurt. A bite would lead my mind to some sort of craze that would create a cycle of self-hatred and guilt. All it looked like to me were numbers. All of these numbers that, together, could not exceed 900.

I can’t.

I told myself I can’t. Could I? I don’t know. I was too scared to try.

I need to calculate. Was this 150 or 155? Plus the morning, 75. But what about what I had in the afternoon… How much was that?

November 2021

I don’t know why it happened, neither from where, nor from what. I couldn’t have just woken up one day, looked in the mirror, and said I hated myself, but as far as I could remember, that was the way it went.

My Google search history was puzzling. How to lose weight overnight? A series of links and videos popped up. I found one that seemed the easiest for me to follow. I mixed together some water, lemon juice, and cumin seeds, and swirled it around a couple of times with a small, metal spoon. I set the spoon aside and waited till the drink’s tornado-like motion came to a stop. Drinking it brought me utter disgust, with each swallow contributing to a set of gags. Just do it. You’ll be skinny tomorrow. Quickly cleaning up after myself before anybody noticed, I went to bed, tucked myself deep into a warm blanket, and let out a sigh of relief. Tomorrow would be better.

Tomorrow came. Nothing changed.

The absolute shame I felt as I stepped on the weighing scale was indescribable. The concoction from last night made no difference, rather the scale had said I weighed three-tenths of a pound more than yesterday. My heart sank to my stomach, tears filling my eyes as I stepped off the scale, wishing I could pluck the fat off my skin. Why am I like this?

Summer 2020

I was happy. I found peace from food. Baking became my new hobby. The constant searching for new recipes and adding ingredients to my shopping list became a pleasure, and going out to buy food was no longer a burden. I had subscribed to many bakers and chefs on YouTube, with Laura Vitale being my favorite. Every few days, an inviting smell of freshly baked treats would fill the house. I would put on the oven mitts, carefully pull out the tray from the oven, cautious of the surrounding heat, and gently set it on the kitchen counter. As each minute went on, it became increasingly difficult to wait for the baked product to cool. It was a thrilling experience. As the months went on, same with most anything, my passion for baking decreased, and soon it became nothing but just another short phase of my life.

August 2021

It was quite foreign. I couldn’t make out at first what it was. My emotions were all jumbled; fear and discomfort took over. My head turned from corner to corner, eyes widening and mind racing uneasily. I could feel myself warming up, not because of heat, but of embarrassment. First day of lunch back at school. Keep the mask on. I lifted the mask up from the bottom ever so slightly, so none of my face could be visible — only enough for the food to go through. I felt the food touching the inside of my mask, but I kept it on nonetheless. I could bear the food-smothered mask for a few more hours, I told myself. I didn’t know why, but something told me eating like this was the only option. This continued for weeks, followed by months, all the way until April of the following year. I didn’t know it at the time, but that first day of lunch would be the start of a very twisted journey. Aug. 11, 2021, was the first day I had ever experienced the feeling of insecurity. On Aug. 11, 2021, I hated the way I looked.

March 2022

I didn’t know why I was behaving this way. All she had asked from me was to rinse a few dishes.

“I’ll do the laundry. Can you please wash the dishes?” my mom asked sweetly, quite tired from the long day.

“Sure,” should have been my response.

Instead, anger and fury took control; I irritably headed to the sink, aggressively washing each dish and splashing water all over the counter. She was furious — she snatched the dish out my hand, and I left immediately. Guilt and sadness flushed over me, but the rage hadn’t vanished. I shouted and ran upstairs, feeling heavy-hearted, fuming, and sensitive.

I cried. I cried for so long that day; I don’t remember the last time that had happened. It was guilt, embarrassment, but quite largely, fear. What’s going on with me? I hadn’t chosen to get so upset. It just seemed to have happened, and I couldn’t explain why. I was unaware that my empty stomach led me to being atrociously hangry.

This isn’t worth my time. I have more important things to worry about. Wiping the tears away, I took my phone out and opened Lose It!, a calorie-tracking app. My mind shifted from the recent emotions of fury and guilt to now a memory game. Okay, starting from the morning. Carrots: Three pieces. Almond milk: a quarter cup. Now lunch. Rice: an eighth cup. Lentils: half a cup. The list continued on until I was sure I had logged all my food down. Shoot. Twenty-eight calories over.

The tears reappeared.

May 2022

I wasn’t happy. I found myself in a war against food.

Consuming it felt like a sin; thinking of it consumed me.

Logging daily became a necessity; missing a day felt a crime.

Others ate; I watched.

I had to earn the food, burn the food, think six times about the food…

Then deny the food.

I isolated myself.

I was suffering. I was suffering so much. 

October 2022

Food had become my evil obsession. I hated it, yet I yearned for it. The times I loved myself lasted for as long as the Google search page on how many calories an orange has took to load. Food had become a game of numbers, no more than x number of calories did I allow myself to consume a day.

June 2023

I’m getting there. Every day, I’m getting better.

I found myself. I don’t have everything perfectly figured out, but I am learning. I know I am worth so much more than a fight with myself over a piece of chocolate. Food is fuel, it’s energy, it’s a necessity. I need food to live.

My mind played with me. It twisted me to think in a way where I could no longer see what was true. I was blinded, I lost myself to a trance — an unreal perception that I must look a certain way. I found the only way to accomplish that is to forget food. But it’s okay, because soon I’ll be in my dream body. Right?

False. I will never be satisfied.

Food played two roles. It was supposed to be my best friend. It kept me alive, allowing me to function and live. But it was also my greatest enemy. An evil witch in disguise. It took over me, controlled me, manipulated me.

But I will not let it control me anymore.

She is not my enemy. She keeps me alive. She is not my enemy. She is so much more than numbers added together like a mathematical equation. She is not my enemy. She brings me joy and comfort. She is not my enemy. I am not afraid of her. She is not my enemy. I survive because of her. She is not my enemy. She is the reason I enjoy moments. She is the reason I live, laugh, love. She is the reason I am alive.

She is not a game of numbers.