I was recently interviewed by the Toronto Star regarding my viewpoint the ProAnorexia movement and web community.
When I stated I encourage and educate parents on how to check the history of their childrens computer activity, I was asked about privacy.
When it comes to Proanorexia, there is no privacy. I will stop at nothing to expose you and I don’t look back. We are dealing with life and death here.
Girls from all over the world reach out to me for help, I am not an eating disorder expert or authority. No one else is listening. Why has this blog become a gathering place for those who are suffering?
It kills me to hear from 15 year old girls who think their lives are “over” because they hate their bodies, themselves, and have no where to turn.
It appalls me to hear stories from anorexics being told by doctors to “go home and eat a bagel,” after landing themselves in the hospital for malnutrition.
I am stunned when I hear the desperate cries from girls who have already gone to their mom for help, revealed their disordered eating habits, only to be patted on the head and told “Honey, you’ll get over it.”
I will ring the neck of the next mother who blatantly wines about her own body image to her girlfriends, totally oblivious to the fact that their 8 year old daughter is clinging to her every word in the next room.
Our girls post their skeletal frames on proana sites, yet they are outraged when their images are re-posted elsewhere for all to see. “You have no right!” they pout, and shout, and stomp. I pay no mind, intentions are good.
I am sick of death.
I am sick of my heart racing when I check my email for update on a blog friend who collapsed, yet again, while innocently playing softball, her organs destroyed by years of purging and starvation.
I am dumbfounded when parents sit and watch their 90 pound daughter read Teen Vogue and don’t put 2 & 2 together.
I am sick of smart ass girls who make avatars featuring their beloved Nicole pasted with pathetic statements “bones are beautiful”
I am sick of arrogant fashion designers snubbing their noses at the anorexia epidemic while they obsessively stitch together their size zero collection for the next show.
I am sick of models who say “I was born this way” when they know damn well that nearly everyone of their model friends are starving or purging.
I can’t watch this kind of world go round, and stay silent.
Ahhhh. Ok, got that out. I feel better.
Have a good one,
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