Letter to my eating disorder

Jun Davies, Staff Reporter

I think about you daily, perhaps hourly.

You are hateful, a demon rolling inside of me.

Consuming the bonds that hold me back from being confident, from being successful, from being free.

A fire raging inside of me. Stoked by the media’s oily presence, coating my tongue in venomous ooze.

Coating my insides from the outside as the oil seeps into my bones.

I am not confident anymore. As a child, I didn’t have to worry about my size.

Children don’t know what size even means as it relates to a person.


Yet recently, little girls are weighing themselves. Looking at themselves in mirrors in their homes.

Feeling their little bellies, sucking in and being unsatisfied with what they see.

How is this ok?

The media is warping us. Changing our chemistry, changing our minds and our thoughts. Things that should be ours and ours alone.


We can share ideas. We can cooperate and help one another with problems. But in no way is it ok for little children to be weighing themselves, watching their adults struggle with their own insecurities.


As they grow up, they develop.

They will remember what they saw as kids; their mother struggling with her body insecurities, their aunt struggling with alcohol in the darkened kitchen. The older sister with wire thin fingers, refusing to eat.


This isn’t how society should be.
Look at the damage you’re causing.