I don’t know how to qualify the way I viewed myself. Days I knew I was too thin and others where I viewed myself as in need of losing weight. Small things, skin roll when sitting, bloating, skin pinching, that made me obsessed over every ounce of fat.
I don’t think I viewed myself as fat or obese, necessarily. I was aware and unaware of being thin. I knew my ribs sticked, I knew I looked I’ll. But the need, the will, the absolute triumph I felt when my weight dropped trumped everything else. This feeling mattered more to me than the consequences, I felt important, I felt good and in control.
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