I have body image issues, but no, I don't care about looking thin or beautiful. I don't try to dress in a way that would slenderize me. I have never been desperate for people to find me tiny. I don't even really find thinner people more or less attractive than non thin people. Visually, I don't give a fuck. My body image issues stem from something else. I don't feel well in this body. I don't feel good being constantly full of food and drinks. I feel overwhelmingly full, even when I don't overeat, even when I don't eat at all, and I know that what I'm full of is feelings, anxiety, not food. But knowing that is not the same as feeling it.
I feel like Jabba the Hutt when I try to move. I am surprised when I am able to fit through the doorway. I practically dive out of the way of people, because I don't think they're able to get around me. I feel grotesque and giant, and totally guilty for taking up this much space. When people hug me I feel guilty that they have to touch me. I don't care about looking more physically attractive, I just want to exist less. My eating disorder is based not on my literal body, but rather the fact that I have the supreme audacity to exist at all.
I've been bulimic since I was twelve years old. When I lived at home with my folks I was always around 110 pounds. (I'm 5'4 so that was slightly underweight but still healthy.) When I was in college it fluctuated between 90 pounds and 130 pounds (which is a big difference when you're only 5'4.) I was gaining and losing weight like crazy but no one seemed to notice, or rather, I've never let anyone close enough to me to care. I don't really know how to let people in. I think that's because when I need help the most it feels like I'm in a relationship with Bulimia, and I don't need anyone else. When I'm at that stage I also feel like I'm burdening everyone and that everyone hates me, and I'm hurting my friends by talking to them, so I just stick with my buddy Bulimia.
Every time I move I feel my overflowing love handles, giant arms, pot belly, etcetera, jiggling like Santa Clause. It practically hurts to be in this body. But, yeah, I know I still look cute.
Today I actually really tried to eat healthy and take care of myself, but I still have pounds and pounds of flesh trying to suffocate me. I'm really upset because I was healthy, I didn't even purge or binge and it feels like I can barely fit in the room. I ate healthy vegetables and fish today, and yet I feel like everything inside me is a thick dark sludge, trying to ooze out through my layers of fat. The sludge is poisonous and trying to infect people I love as it erupts out of me.
Eating disorders are not based on our visual perception of ourselves. No one develops an eating disorder because they want to appear more attractive. They come from a guilty conscious for existing, extreme fullness of anxiety, and a multitude of other things.