The memory just hit me of my grandmother calling me fat when I was only 12 or 13 years old. And my father was there, too, and didn't say a word. In fact, some time later he told me I looked like a pig when I run. So much for enjoying sports. It's great to have such a loving and supportive family. *bitter feelings all over the place*
How was I supposed to learn to live with my body or even like it? I have no idea what they thought they were doing. Well, probably they didn't think.
Oh well, what the heck. I don't want to blame my family for my ED. They just made it a little too easy to hate myself. And I guess being called a fat cow in school didn't help either. Why can't I just forget my past, why does it keep coming back?