About Me

I live in Mexico City. The second most populated place on the planet. Some days I love it, sometimes I hate it. I am sixteen years old and I am going through the 11th grade. 2 more years, and I will be in University... or who knows where. I will start by telling a bit about my past. I was born and raised here, except for two years during which I lived in the US. Both my parents are mexican and they met each other in school. They are now divorced, and have been that way for almost 8 years. My mother is a teacher and my dad is the manager (or something like that) of a well-known worldwide company, which I will not cite in order to avoid giving too many clues. I have one younger brother, who will be named Claudio for this story. He is 14 and is completely obnoxious at times, although I know he has too much pain inside, as well as me.
I can say I had lived an almost, if not completely, perfect life, up unitl I was 9. That was the year my parents separated and my father moved somewhere else in the city with another woman, which we shall name Judy, who also happened to be his secretary. That messed up my family for starters. I have since then lived with my brother and mother. We haven't been able to recover emotionally since then, and we have lived in an unstable kind of hell for almost 8 years. Sometimes it seems to be geting better, then we fall again. And we are used to it, which sucks. It has been like that for almost half my life now. But I can remember what it was like before, and I want it to be that way again. I just don't know how to make it.

So my parents split up when I was 9 and Claudio 6. My dad moves out, but doesn't stop seeing us often. Sometimes he would take us on the weekends to a small apartment in the south of the city, where Judy always was. I knew something was going on, but I dodn't want to believe it. I accepted the fact that "she was just a friend", even though her clothes and things were in my dad's room. She would take me places and buy me things, and I started to like her. One day, my dad takes us to a brand new house, inside a small, private neighborhood which was hard to get to. I saw there was a boy's room and a girl's room. I thought they were for us, although I knew she had 2 kids. I see clothes inside of the drawers, the clothes aren't mine. I know for sure, my dad has a new family. I hate her, but I can't tell her, nor him.

For the bizarre time span of 9 months or so, my dad stops taking us to his house, or going places with us and Judy at the same time. Weird, huh. One day, he picks me up from golf and tells me "he wants meto meet a ery small person". I know, by the sound of that stupid comment, what the next one will be. I don't even have to hear it to start crying. He thinks I'm crying because I'm happy. How stupid is that? I tell him I feel sad because the thought of your own father having children with somebody else isn't at all pleasing. But I never tell him I am furious because he kept me from her during her entire pregnancy and cowardly tells me what is going on after the baby is born. The new member we will call Julio.

A bit less than a year later, my true hell really begins. The one that I myself created. I decided to lose weight. At the age of 13. When I was not one bit fat. For some months, I had been feeling that I was getting fat, and my aunt, Paulina, told me so one night, and it really hurt. My other aunt, Andrea, is a nutriologist, and that summer, she had planned a "Nutrition Course for Girls". She invited me because she had no customers yet (now that I think about it, her problem messed up my life) and toldme what it was about. Because of what had happenned before, I did not doubt joining. I remember I saw it as the opportunity of my life. Yeah, right. I began to lose weight, and then, to become obsessed. Obsessed to the point where I would not eat anything but fruits and vegetables, like many other teenage girls do. I dropped 20 pounds (10 kilos) in less that 6 months. And I was delighted. But I was hungry. I lived that way for 1 year, except for the last monts I was allowing myself to eat anything, of course counting calories (1200 per day) and exercising like crazy, taking every chance I had to burn those calories. I was hardly ever sitting down, and was almost always walking in circles stupidly. That, among other stupid things I did. I went to bed hungry, woke up hungry, went to school hungry, came home hungry, spent the evening hungry. And ironically, that fed me up. Once again, my inner person (whose name I still do not know), convinced me that I deserved better. She convinced me I deserved to be happy and stop suffering. She won. (Or did I win?) That, I do not yet know. I began to eat, promising myself I wouln't be hungry like that again. And no, contrary to what most of you believe, I do not eat mountains of food everyday. In fact, I have a problem with allowing myself to eat. A problem I want to get rid of. The big thing is, I did gain weight. Lotsmore than what I had begun at, when I thought I was fat. I now weigh 40 pounds more than before I went to my aunt's course, before I became obsessed and starved myself to "perfection". Sometimes I can't believe what I see in the mirror is really me, sometimes I think I haven't still adopted that perception of myself, I still think of me as that thin person, not as what I look like now. Sometimes I don't know what I should eat, or if I am really hungry or not, although I know I am, I just don't want to admit that I need food, because I am scared of it. I barely ever feel full, like I've had enough and I can forget about it and do my things. I hardly ever do my things. Sometimes I feel so depressed because of what I look like, that I think I should go on a diet again. That's the least hard ofthings for me to do. I've done it and I could do it again without a problem. But I know I shouldn't and I don't want to, not because I can't, but because I promised myself I would never do that to myself again, and because I know if I lose weight like that, I will eventually have to eat again because I can't spend the rest of my life hungry, and consequently, I will gain it back again, and more. Sometimes I think I should just accept the way I look, and admit the fact that I messed my body up by making it go without food for such a long time, and it just needs to be like this now. I think that would be the best for me to accept, and the way I will feel calm and a bit more stable, not waiting or expecting to lose weight, but living everyday knowing that it needs to be like this and I can't change it.

As a result of this whole mess up I caused, my personality has also changed a lot. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I am concentrated on how much I want to be skinny again, that I don't put my attention and effort into other things that could make me happier. It just makes me so sad that lots of my friends have boyfriends or boys that like them, when I think I am a more intelligent, loving, interesting and caring person. On the other hand, I think I can't expect someone to like me, neither should I be so interested in having a boy love me, when there isn't even a loving relationship within me with myself, or amongst my family. I'm just too scared that all my dreams will be destroyed because of the mistake I made, which really steppedon my life. Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, or wake up from this dream, and it pisses me off to relaize that it's not a dream: it's my sad, vile and retarded reality.

After several weeks of total depression within me, I have decided to take actions to start living again, and hopefully find that which I lost some time ago: HAPPINESS. I believe I can get it back, and I have started by making a list of the characteristics I want to have as a person, several of which were things I had before becoming this thing I don't know anymore.