Chasing Skinny {Part One}

I was nineteen and had no business obsessing over skinny.

Entering college the year prior, I came in as a confident size four. Maybe a six. A little soft. But balanced. And unconcerned.

It is amazing what a year in college can do to a girl.

My college boyfriend was fit and older. His ex girlfriend was gorgeous. Fit. A little older. And teeny-tiny.

I was nineteen. A size four. A little soft. Maybe I should’ve been concerned.

Everywhere I looked were gym bags and water bottles. StairMaster had hit the scene hard. As did kickboxing. Step. Hi-Lo. And Billy Blanks.

The fitness train had taken off and all of the pretty girls were on it. My best friend a marathon runner. My boyfriend, fit and older. His ex-girlfriend, gorgeous. Fit. Teeny-tiny.

And she appeared very healthy.

Did I say she was gorgeous? And teeny-tiny?

Oddly enough, she was around a lot. Quite needy and dependent. Lurking and looking for affirmation. Confirmation that she was gorgeous and fit.

I’m sure I was her biggest fan. I studied her. Her clothes. Her hair. Her diet. Her workout regimen.

She drank coffee for breakfast. Canned tuna and sugar free gelatin for lunch. And maybe a cracker – if she was splurging.

I could do that.

For dinner, another can of tuna with unseasoned green beans.

I could do that, too. I liked tuna. And beans. And sugar-free Jello.

And loved coffee – ahem.

anorexia nervosa (def): a serious disorder in eating behavior primarily of young women in their teens and early twenties that is characterized especially by a pathological fear of weight gain leading to faulty eating patterns, malnutrition, and usually excessive weight loss
So I ran hard trying to catch that train. Trying to make up for the couple of college years that I had been too comfortable in my soft, size fours. Needing drastic results to look the part.

I served the scale. Obeying its demands. On a bad day, it would shame me. It’s disappointment sending me back to work. “No, Becky. That is not good enough. Faster. Harder.”

On a really good day it would commend me with a smaller number. Congratulating me on my faithfulness to fat-free foods and hours at the gym.


It was all very subtle. And social. College girls going to the gym. Making eyes at the frat brothers. Feeling hot in my purple spandex (oh yes). Chasing skinny on the treadmill.

No one knew I had become a prisoner. Bound by my new size zero.

I wish someone would have helped me.

But I wouldn’t have let them.

It was exhausting trying to maintain my new size and weight. I started to miss food. And flavor.

What was a skinny girl to do?

Workout more I guess. That seemed to be my answer for everything.

I remember going to a Christmas party and being completely helpless against that table of chocolate covered Oreos and buckeyes. The cheese ball beckoned me come. And I did. All night. Discreetly going back to the table again and again. Trying to appear normal.

But I had no idea what normal looked like anymore.

The next day, I woke. Hungover from chocolate and chips. The scale furious with my behavior.

My head hung low, I went to the gym. Skipping every one of my classes. I worked out. And worked out. And worked out. All. Day. Long. I punished myself on that fitness floor for eight grueling hours. Honestly thinking I deserved the beating. Deeply needing to feel thin again. Working hard to make the scale happy.

Exercise Bulimia: (def) compulsive exercising in order to purge the body of excessive calories taken in from a feeding binge. Over-exercising in order to maintain weight loss and extreme caloric burn.I may have been a zero. Fit. Now teeny-tiny. But exercise had not only burned calories. It also burned up all of my confidence. I was twenty. Skinny. Unsure. And extremely unhappy.

What had happened to me? What happened to that nineteen-year-old, joyful girl who was balanced and pleased with herself?

Wasn’t exercise a good thing? Wasn’t healthy eating important?

I needed help…

13 thoughts on “Chasing Skinny {Part One}

  1. I wondered if this might be what you were going to talk about. I can totally relate! I can't remember if you've read my story or not, but I struggled with the same stuff. I look forward to reading how God brought about your healing! <3{p.s. Thank you for your prayers!}

  2. Becky, you are so awesome. I remember now why I was reading your blog everyday before and am sad that I somehow fell out of that habit. Thank you for posting such a vulnerable description of a prison that every (every) young girl in America has been in to some extent at one time or another. Just in case you don't know about it, here's one of my favorite resources: Love you so much!

  3. Thank you for sharing from your heart. I had to come see if there was more to the story. Looking forward to reading your posts in this New Year. Hope you'll come visit me

  4. May God richly bless you as He uses you to help others. He turns our ashes into beauty. It is those places we have needed Him most that become our gift to others as we share them. I am thankful for you, Becky. I am praying for you as you speak to other women and share. Thank you, God, for Becky. Bless and multiply her offering. Let it be more than enough to feed those hungry, lost souls she encounters and shares with. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

  5. Pingback: I Can’t Believe I Am Telling You This… | Becky Crenshaw

  6. Pingback: Window-Seals and Winners | Becky Crenshaw

  7. Pingback: Beating The Body Image Blues | Becky Crenshaw

  8. Pingback: The Inner Cell of Bondage {this one is important} | Becky Crenshaw

  9. Pingback: This Is How We Win – A Guest Post | Becky Crenshaw

  10. Pingback: The “Blond Bombshell” Speaks | Ripped Apart

I means so much to hear from you!

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s