I guess it all depends from your background and what you truly believe in. What you’re able to admit and what makes you ashamed, comes from the values you were raced by.
Thus, I don’t know which values I was raced by that makes me prefer one illness instead of the truth. It wasn’t my family, I would like to think. But, it was certainly society. I don’t know. I’m not here to blame, to be honest, I’m here to confess and to own up my behavior and admit that is wrong. To let it out somehow, to make it real.
I’m always pretending. Having one layer of personality on top of another. I laugh, I joke, I smile. Those who don’t know me, think I’m really easy going, but I’m not.
I hide because I’m afraid of rejection and I hide because I despise to be looked down upon. What’s interesting here if what I believe is worth of hiding.
I know the struggle of watching a menu and anxiety, I know the lies that are believable enough for when they ask you why don’t you eat, I know the stomach growling and the hunger.
These symptoms are common to one mental illness. Everyone with eating disorders knows the feeling, and I knew it, I knew that my behavior could be compared to that of an ill person and I took advantage of it.
I went through one part of college not eating. I only ate one apple a day and dinner, and on weekends, if I was lucky, I had lunch and dinner. I drank a lot of water and “I’m not hungry”, “I already ate” were words I always pronounce it. I ate small portions and always ordered something small to eat.
I was careful enough to say how I wanted to loose weight, to give the right hints. When they started assuming I was counting calories, I let them. I let my friends and boyfriend think it was all about the fat.
True is, and for first time I let it out, I didn’t count calories, I was counting pennies. You know how many calories and apple has, I knew how much a kilo costed.
I didn’t have money to eat. As simple as that. But, I never admitted that. I felt more comfortable if they believed I had a psychological problem, than to say out loud the real problem.
I once said: “I feel guilty every time I eat” while crying. And I meant it. Every time I ate I was thinking how I didn’t had money and I was spending something I didn’t have. Every time I ate lunch at the uni cafeteria I felt guilty and I regretted it; thought how I was weak and lacked self will.
I let people worry for a problem that wasn’t there, I played and minimized a serious illness, because I couldn’t simply say: “I don’t have money”. I was ashamed, I am ashamed. I couldn’t keep up with their lifestyle, so I let them believe I could, I just thought I was fat. I never, once, mentioned money.
When the situation improved, I started eating again and didn’t mention the problem again. Someone said all I was looking for was attention and when I had it I stopped. I let him.
And, now, that I’m in the same situation, I will do it again.
Mistakes are suppose to make you a better person and if something makes you suffer the best gain is to learn. And I haven’t learn, I haven’t learn how not to be ashamed, how not to hide.I don’t know why I’m so afraid of. 
