Oh, if only I could reverse time and change the err of my ways. Donna J. Fennel
BALEFUL BODY BLUES® Original, autobiographical and awakening poetry by Donna J. Fennel.
Personal testimony of my ongoing lifelong battle with eating disorders
And my eternal, sinister specter of negative body image and abuse.
Know well that this tale I tell is a spell of Hell on a never ending ride.
Authored on this 13th day of June, 2004 ~ Please read this for me.
I had one of the worst cases of anorexia ever reported and nearly died.
Oh how I yearned to rule as the purveyor of perfection ~
So the men I know would bestow me with their affection.
Yet they know not how I demonstrate despised rejection ~
For my sad image now cast in my mirror’s keen detection.
My emotions swim erratically, enmeshed in empty ocean ~
Erstwhile my mind’s locomotion invokes pity as my potion.
Not a flaw upon my body, yet inner scars are lurking there ~
Behind my masquerade and charade you could never share.
The pride and strides I took, seeking perfection in myself ~
For to attain the ultimate body was my mission, above all else.
Yet this narcissism towards flawlessness nearly led to my death ~
Until I draw my last breath, while my bones osteoporosis has met.
So many times my pounds had plummeted beyond my control ~
Only ten years ago, when thirty pounds plunged into a black hole.
I had recovered from anorexia before, back in nineteen-ninety one ~
And had wound up thirty pounds heavier, for the damage I had done.
Then in nineteen ninety-three, those thirty were whisked off of me ~
In a mere three weeks no less, including most of my dying breasts.
Ah yes, one twenty felt awfully good, you know, as well it should ~
Because that is what I weighed, before the permanent price I paid.
The nutritionist told me I had returned to my basal metabolic weight.
Great! I thought dragging those extra thirty whoppers would be my fate.
My recovery weight from having had anorexia was only two years prior ~
All thought I had gone on a diet and said I looked good, were they liars?
Folks who had not seen me in years said I was heavy before; my, the tears!
Had they known merely three years prior, I was eighty pounds of Hellfire.
And I had recovered thirty pounds beyond, to one-fifty that made me tired.
I wanted to weigh my old one-twenty again, but went insane in my attempt.
Alas, I fooled myself into thinking I could keep this weight off for good ~
Yet how was I to keep it stabilized unless, once again, I gave up food?
I ate quite normally, yet seemingly the scale did not escalate this time ~
Til about two years ago, when deficiencies nearly caused me to go blind.
Indescribable elation I experienced, for my heavy thighs had disappeared.
And what was once an ample rear was now perfection for minis; I cheered.
Now I had new, gorgeous gams to suntan; bikinis were now at my command.
For thirty pounds disappeared without a sound, tho they would return I found.
Due to this anxiety-induced weight loss, you have no idea the doleful dross ~
And dangerous duels I have experienced with near death, to keep a figure best.
For in order to stay at one-twenty, I ingested laxatives and diuretics a-plenty ~
And vomited meals along the way, for to stay thin was the price I would pay.
Alas, since I have relocated to Arkansas, my scale has taken turn for worst ~
Within five weeks, I have gained ten pounds; I am now paying for this curse.
I remember well the time I weighed eighty pounds merely twelve years hence ~
And gained sixty-five pounds within five months, due to my bodily negligence.
I have concurred, and let this message be heard, I cannot control my weight ~
Without resorting to eating disordered behavior; I know some of you can relate.
Marveled, magic mirror on my bathroom wall, why did this terrible fate I befall?
For in order to be happy with my slim appearance now, why must I not chow?
I realize now my age and propensity towards being heavy, is fate of me and mother.
Whom, in spite of her buxom Botticelli body, had grace and goodness like no other.
Know well that while my weight escalates, tho I ascend again towards one-fifty ~
Just accept me for the wonderful person I am inside, who was always sort of nifty.
When my girlfriend of several years died of anorexia recently, I shed many tears ~
For she, like me, had fought with eating disorders showing no mercy and perplexity.
It had awakened me to the reality and complexity of who in blazes is honestly me?
Can I tell myself I am more than just a body; my intelligence surpasses what you see.
Oh cursed looking glass, can I just get on with my life and banish you into my past?
For whether or not I become fat or thin, you will not know the pain I have been in.
Or this languishing, loathsome burden I carry, I need not share with the man I married.
Am I ugly and plain, or am I fine? Is the reflection you reveal and steal truly mine?
For the price I have paid over years and the tears, to achieve a perfect figure via fear ~
Yet now that I am older and bolder, when I look in you a different person appears.
One who is slowly beginning to achieve confidence and control in her heart and soul ~
Despite my weight fluctuations and an average body, I truly must learn to love ME.
Alas, now when I gaze into my looking glass, tho it reveals images of my painful past ~
I believe I have finally found freedom at last, no longer at anorexia’s merciless cast.
I view a woman growing wiser with age, tho not as perfect as one on a Cosmo page ~
For my wounds will heal as glamour I no longer steal, while village church bells peal.
"The butterfly is my emissary. They are so very fragile, like life. When I see one, I am reminded of the shortness of life and how important it is to live wisely."
~ Virgil ~
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