Blog Sarah Aldritt

Contrary to the stereotypes that surround anorexia, being thin was never a priority for me; I have never thought I was fat or spent hours staring and pinching at flesh in the mirror. However, I think my gradual slide into ‘full blown’ anorexia began, aged 17, when I chose to give up chocolate for lent. Denying my incredibly sweet tooth this ‘naughty’ food gave me the sense of achievement that I could get from obsessively abstaining from something I loved. I felt powerful, in control and superior to others who gave in to their cravings.

During the next 5 years, my addiction to strict regimes of exercise and eating provided a constant in my life. Whilst always comparing myself to others and feeling inadequate and stressed at the prospect of messing life up, at least I had the comfort of knowing I was disciplined at exercise and I controlled what I ate.

Inevitably though, I couldn’t always keep up my rigid routines. Often, at night, I would allow myself the food that was forbidden during the day...this always resulted in feeling out of control, followed by the guilt and disgust at myself for being so weak. I wouldn’t feel right again until I had gone to the gym or for a long run...until everything was back ‘in order’. Even as my weight fell below six stone in late 2007, I still had these episodes of ‘bingeing’. Although I had always acknowledged I had a problem, when anorexia was diagnosed this suggestion seemed ridiculous – anorexics didn’t eat, I did. I felt unworthy of this title as I didn’t have the self control that they had.

In January 2008, when I fell ill with pneumonia, became too weak to walk and lay on a hospital bed with veins too small for IV drugs, my 5 stone 3 lb body refused to rest – I actually struggled to the hospital toilet to try to exercise. It had long gone past the point of me controlling something in my life, this thing was controlling me and it was telling me that I wasn’t a good enough anorexic, that I needed to try harder because others were better at it.

When I was told I wasn’t able to start a training contract at a law firm in London, my resolve to get better was stronger than ever; I wanted a life, not just to exist. I fought to stay out of hospital and fortunately, I was given access to a specialist community nurse, nutritionist and psychologist. With them, I set about on the long road to breaking this addictive cycle, gaining weight and learning to establish some kind of normality around food.

Unfortunately, we live in a society where the media associates healthiness with thinness. Having always denied that body image was a factor in my own case, as I gain more weight and become more womanly I can’t help but compare my body to others. Whilst magazines often criticise those who are too thin, when they constantly bombard us with pictures of airbrushed models and celebrities, it is difficult to remember that often these models are teenagers or these bodies aren’t real; if it’s ok for them to hover at a weight that is on the edge of an anorexic bmi, then why can’t I? If I am told it is ok to eat cake in moderation then confronted with pages devoted to dieting and the best way to lose weight, then how can I equate healthiness with being heavier? Shouldn’t I be detoxing and only eating raw food?

These confusing messages can make us feel guilty and less confident, and they often force both men and women to compare themselves with bodies that aren’t attainable. Beauty is subjective. I found a definition of beauty that said it is ‘the combination of all the qualities of a person or thing that delight the senses and the mind.’ Who said the media could define it and make us feel inadequate for not having the ‘perfect body’? Being beautiful shouldn’t be about being thin; but about feeling happy, healthy and confident.