#lisa is 5ft but she will scrap

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DS LISA SWAIN | CORONATION STREET

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I survived on porridge and threw up every night

Sitting at my desk, flicking through celebrity magazines, my heart thumped as I studied the images of Hollywood’s most famous women. “They look like skeletons,” my mum would hiss whenever she caught me admiring their thin physiques. Mum may not have approved, but to me, they were perfect.I became obsessed with celebrity culture in 2000. Nicole Richie and Lindsay Lohan in particular were my favourites. I would spend hours worshipping them, wishing that one day I’d look like them. “They’re so cool and beautiful,” I would think to myself. Nothing like me.Until a few months earlier I’d been ironing-board straight… but since puberty, my hips had widened and my bust had grown. At just 5ft 3in tall, I hated my new curvy size 12 figure and my self-esteem had plummeted. That’s when I started cutting down on meals - skipping breakfast and throwing away my packed lunch. Instead, I would chew on fat free marshmallows to keep me going.I watched as the weight fell away, but it wasn’t enough. So I became more daring. When Mum wasn’t looking, I would wrap parts of my dinner up into a napkin until I could dispose of it. In time, my body began to look like the celebrities that I admired so much. But I still wasn’t happy.My stomach would constantly growl with hunger. I was snapping at Mum, and the thought of socialising became too much to handle. I didn’t understand. Nicole and Lindsay seemed so happy? By the age of 18 I’d starved myself down to a size four, but I was worried. “I just feel down all the time,” I explained to my GP.I weighed just six stone and my BMI was only 15. That’s when I first heard the word anorexia used to describe me. I was prescribed antidepressants and was kept a close eye on. For a while things started to get better. I went to Keele University and made some new friends. But the lure of celebrity culture quickly came back to haunt me. This time it was Angelina Jolie. So beautiful and so thin.Over the next few years I moved to Australia and then Bangkok to teach English. I would post photographs on Facebook of my exotic experiences. I was finally living the life I so craved. I looked glamorous. But the reality was, I was starving. I was surviving on a bowl of porridge a day and I would spend hours in the gym to burn off every last calorie.I didn’t care that I was miserable and lonely - online I looked cool and that was all that mattered. In 2014, I moved to Hampton-in-Arden, West Midlands, and set up a private tuition business. But although I appeared happy, I felt invisible.I was no longer living the lavish lifestyle I’d loved, so I blew $2600 on a six-day trip to Miami. Not for the sun or the sights - but for the pictures I could post on social media. I decided to go alone as it was the perfect opportunity to hide my eating disorder. With no one around me, I could easily skip meals. So I jetted off and as soon as I landed, I ditched my bags and headed straight out to snap my coolest pics. Unlike Nicole and Lindsay, I didn’t have a gal-pal to get my best angle, so I had to take endless selfies and occasionally ask total strangers to take a snap while I slapped on a smile. I looked happy, but my shades hid my expressionless, dead eyes, which held a dark secret.I’d upload these fabulous photos, but the truth was I was spending every night in my hotel room in Miami throwing up whatever scraps of food I’d survived on that day. I now weighed just five stone and I was dangerously underweight. Just four days into my holiday, I felt on the verge of losing my mind.I was alone and seriously ill. The thing is, my photos weren’t even getting that many likes online, but I convinced myself that people cared. I knew I needed help and eventually I gave in and rang my Mum sobbing. “I’m living a lie, I want to come home,” I wept.Mum was there for me when I flew home and came with me to the GP. She was so supportive. In truth she always had been, I’d just pushed her away. I was prescribed antidepressants again and with the help of Mum, I started building up my appetite. It was a slow process, but the climb wasn’t nearly as painful as the fall. I started to reconnect with my friends - my real ones, not the ones on Facebook.“I’ve got an eating disorder and I’m anorexic,” I finally admitted to my oldest friend, Lisa, but secretly she’d always known. “I’m glad you’re getting help,” she admitted. Gradually, my body began to fill out and my skin started to glow again. Finally, I was beginning to accept my body. Now, although I don’t weigh myself anymore, I’m a healthy size 8.This originally appeared on thesun.co.uk, and is published here with permission.If you loved this, you should read about the 8 most common triggers of anxiety in adulthood, and how to save $52k in one year. Know someone who'd love this? Share it with them! Source link Read the full article