The Cost of Perfection

"Motivation is a fire from within.  If someone else tries to light that fire under you, chances are it will burn very briefly." - Stephen R. Corey
Chapter 1:
Perfect. A simple, seven letter word that is easier said then done.  It is a hopeless task to achieve, yet today most of us are attempting the impossible.  I myself was included in that group of people wanting perfection, and would have risked it all to achieve it even if that meant risking my life.
I was never the smallest girl growing up; I was not obese, but definitely on the heavy side.  I was always called the fat kid by other students, and it hurt to hear, but it became numb to me after a while.  Food was always my crutch to feel better when I was younger.  There wasn't any problem that a nice chocolate bar couldn't fix.  It wasn't until I was at a pool party, the summer before 9th grade,  that it really sank in that I hated how I looked. My friend was hosting the party and I was so excited to go and hang out with my friends. The whole bathing suit thing never fazed me, I was just excited to have a good time with my friends.  It must not have been more than fifteen minutes after I got there that I felt like a total outsider.  All the girls had on cute two piece bathing suits, and then there was me in my black, one piece. I realized how much better they looked and how awkward I must have looked to be wearing a one piece. I don't know what came over me, but it was one of the worst feelings I have ever felt.  I was there for about an hour when one of the girls decided we should walk down the street to get some ice cream. I on the other hand wanted to crawl under a rock and cry.  As we got ready to go I noticed all of the girls in their short shorts, and cute tops...then there was me in my oversized t-shirt and shorts from Sam's Club.
Something ugly came over me after that and I had to get out of the house, and away from them. I told my friend that I wasn't feeling good, and called my mom to pick me up. As everyone was walking down the street, I started to distance myself from them. Anything was better than standing next to a girl who is a size zero when you're a size fourteen.  My mom picked me up before we got there, and when I got in the car I lost it; the tears left my eyes like I wished the weight would leave my body. I realized that my mother's kisses and hugs were not going to fix things, and then something snapped inside of me.
My eating habits changed a little at a time. At first smaller portions at every meal, but that didn't take the weight off fast enough.  I then began skipping breakfast and lunch, and would binge when I got home from school.  The pain of being hungry was a feeling of accomplishment for me.  I thrived off that feeling; I would see how long I could go without eating before it was necessary.  "Are you eating?" That was an everyday question from my mom.I would always reply with the same thing: "Mom look at me, of course I am eating.