It started in school when I gained a little weight,
Puberty hit early and it didn’t discriminate.
My hips, my thighs, my butt and boobs too,
This is NORMAL for all females, and I didn’t have a clue.
“Look how big your belly is” “you can’t even see your feet”
I never cried! ...Until I got home - just before I’d go to sleep.

By the time I was 7 I got my first pay,
Every month I focused only on that day.
$20 for losing my weight; $10 for staying the same,
Thanks grandma! It’s okay, you’re not entirely to blame.

Eating disorders are complicated and there’s never just one trigger,
It didn’t matter what I did I just kept on getting bigger.
My mum was always thinner than me and survived off coffee and smokes,
My dad owned a takeaway store and I was easy to coax.

At mum’s I’d eat some fruit and jump on the treadmill for an hour,
Then go to dads and eat deep fried chips and retreat into the shower.
I’d tie up my hair and sit on the ground while grabbing at my gut,
I’d pretend I had a pair of scissors, motioning the cut.

Aged 13 I watched Operah publicise the secret to getting thin,
4 hours worth of wages - $30 for the tin.
By the time I’d finished the first fad I was obsessed with finding the next,
My mum asked where all my money went “dunno” I said perplexed.

I became a professional liar and showering after food became the norm,
From when I still lived at home with mum to my university dorm.
What goes down must come up was what I’d tell myself,
Then walk right down to the shops and buy some ipecac off the shelf.

Eventually I started to to shed some weight the loss was quite dramatic,
40 kilos in just 10 months.. you’d bet I was ecstatic.
People who bullied me in my teens suddenly said hello,
They thought I was a success story and I went with the flow.

I feel in love with my illness, because really, how could I not?
For the first time in my entire life I finally had a shot.
The compliments continued on until I went too far,
My bones stuck out and I’d run 12k instead of using my car.

My friends started to back away and blame drugs for my mood,
I became that junkie skinny girl but my only drug was food.
To me its harder than other habits you might try to shed,
I couldn’t just give up food forever, because all I’d become was dead.

The first therapist I ever saw wasn’t till I was 22,
She looked at me and said ‘you’re depressed’ and gave me those pills - they’re blue.
I didn’t feel depressed I just had this habit I wanted to shake,
I took the pills for a while but all they did was keep me awake.

I went back to tell her they weren’t working and all I was, was wired.
So she prescribed me with some other pills - the ones that make you tired.
Of all the therapies for bulimia nothing’s guaranteed my cure,
So I’m still on my healing journey - that’s one thing that’s for sure.

I’m nowhere near as hard on myself as I was for so damn long,
Now I have my daughters and husband who keep me fighting strong.
Self love is a muscle - you need to flex it every day,
Just focus on the positive stuff, make forward the only way.

I didn’t write this poem for it to have a happy ending,
Because if I’m honest I’ll most likely spend the rest of my life mending.
I wrote it to raise awareness and to share my authentic self,
If you need help contact The Butterfly Foundation, and leave the ipecac on the shelf.