Dear Anorexia

Dear Anorexia,

I hear you knocking but you cannot come in.  I will call you by your proper name - Thief.  You rob me of my health.  You rob me of my energy.  You rob me of my joy.  I will treat you like the thief that you are.  I would not leave my front door open for anyone to come in and take what belongs to me.  I shut my door and lock it to protect what is precious to me.  In the same way I will shut my mind to your beckoning.  I will bar the door against the temptations of skinny celebrities on glossy magazine covers and skimpy swimsuits on department store racks.  I will safeguard my schedule to make your old habits inconvenient. 

I can hear you laying in wait, until my children are all in school.  I can hear you urging "you can skip breakfast with no one to yell at."  I hear you call "you can work out for hours without interruption."  Lies.  Siren songs.  I worked very hard to overcome your deceptions.  Becoming a mother forced me to look beyond my selfish conceit.  I cannot starve a growing baby.  I cannot skip meals when children need my patience.  I cannot run for hours when there are snacks to prepare and diapers to change and laundry to fold.  I cannot destroy myself when my children depend on my strong arms to hold them. 

Dear Anorexia - you are an old, familiar face, but you are no friend of mine.  You are not welcome here.  I am so much more than you want me to believe I am.  I am fearfully and wonderfully made, and I will live my life in the light of that knowledge.  You and I are over.  Stop calling my name. 

Sincerely,

Not Sick Anymore