I have suffered with an eating disorder and Body Dysmorphia Disorder (BDD) since I was 13, but I’ve always been considered ‘vain’. I have never been able to pass a reflective surface without gawping at myself, but that isn’t because I love myself and think I look wonderful, instead it’s linked to my constant paranoia, I can look at myself and a split second later I will think my hairs fucked up, my lipsticks smudged, I’ve gained a new spot, etc. When I say I can’t walk past a reflective surface I’m not over exaggerating; mirrors, shop windows, car windows, phone screens, glass, spoons, my boyfriend’s glasses, you get the gist. I will look at myself and cry. To highlight how bad I am, whilst I was on holiday with my boyfriend last week in Paris we went out for a day of sight-seeing, we’d been out around 20 minutes and I caught sight of myself and was so repulsed that I had a panic attack and cried until we found the nearest chemist to buy me hair products so I could sort myself out.
My friends, my family and my boyfriend must be so bored of me constantly asking ‘do I look okay?’ ‘Is my hair alright?’ ‘Are you sure I don’t look vile?’ and I will ask and ask and ask, and always be met with the answer ‘you look lovely’ but I’ll never believe them.
People have always been confused by my social media profile when they find out I suffer from BDD and am recovering from bulimia, I post regularly, and it tends to be photos of myself, photos of my face, and photos occasionally of just my body. But here’s the thing they capture a moment, a moment where I feel not so dreadful, a moment where the light hits my face in a way that makes my features look a little better, a moment where I feel a little better about myself, usually in the morning when I’ve not eaten anything, usually on a day when my hair is sitting just right, usually on a day when my skin looks plumper and less drab cause maybe on the off chance I have actually had a good night’s rest. I cannot even explain how many photos I take or my boyfriend takes, 100s of the same selfie with a slight change in each, my eyes being wider, my chin slightly less tilted, because woe betide someone actually notices that I have a pointy chin and from the side I look like a bloody half-moon. Then there’s the task of picking the correct one, a task that usually baffles my boyfriend with his most frequently used phrases being ‘but they all look the same’ ‘are they the same photo?’ ‘What is the difference between these five?’ You feel his pain. Due to the very nature of BDD I haven’t got the faintest idea what I actually look like, I get told one thing by various people but I see something totally different when I actually look at myself. So I use these images I take of myself as a sort of check on what I actually look like, to help myself internally decipher what my face and body truly look like, cause trust me I don’t have the foggiest.
When I started my blog is was intended to be my creative outlet, to distract me from my mental health, to give me a reason to get out of bed, to give me something to put my heart into that would give me a purpose, but it’s done the opposite. I can’t shoot with anyone except my boyfriend and we will regularly shoot and the photos will not see the light of day, I’m so picky, I pick out a flaw that isn’t visible to the naked eye and therefore those photos will never be seen. I have shot with two of my friends, both of whom are fabulous photographers and it isn’t their work it’s simply how I look in them that prevents me from shooting with them regularly. I have passed on endless opportunities to shoot with incredible photographers, as well as working with and modelling for incredible brands.
I began making myself sick at 13, I still do now, that is 8 years. I don’t use it as a weight loss technique anymore but more as another form of self-harm, my teeth have always been my favourite feature, but bulimia has caused the thinning of my front two. I have stopped it being a compulsion but it is so second nature that the minute I become worked up I throw up, without having to even make myself. In terms of my day to day living with BDD it isn’t that simple. Body dysmorphia plagues me daily, I can’t online shop because I cannot gauge my size. If I am going to buy any garment it’s a given that I need to try it on first, otherwise I have been known to buy thing that are about 3 sizes too big and I haven’t got a clue what size and shape my body really is. Well that’s a lie, I do, I am a size 8 (when I am being logical and not a total loony tune plagued by mental illness) but I will often pick up garments that are a size eight and I cannot fathom how they will ever fit over my enormous bum or thunder thighs and lord help a shop if there sizes are off and I need to up size on any item. This leads to days and days of self-loathing, self-harm, endless tears and just generally me being a pain in the arse.
To end the post on a slightly more positive note I am waiting to see a psychologist as no other form of therapy as ‘cured’ me as of yet, so I’ve decided to use this blog as a bit of a diary to document hopefully what will be my recovery, I also don’t feel like I have covered half of what it is actually like to live with body dysmorphia but it’s not bloody easy to write about something that you cannot even rationalise in your own mind, so thank you for bearing with me on this one.
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WomansHood 