I think there's a lot of pressure on any girl.
They're bombarded with images every day of what is supposed
to be perfect.
I just felt awful about myself.
I felt like, if I couldn't control what I was eating, I
didn't have anything else that I could control.
I grew up in a small town.
We had two things.
We had football and the Miss Broken Bow Pageant.
And I remember going to this pageant with my
parents every year.
And these girls just seemed untouchable.
I mean I just remember idolizing these girls on the
stage and thinking, someday I'm going to do that.
My senior year was my last shot.
I was expected to win it.
On Monday morning on my way to school, I
would buy five apples.
And I would put them in my locker.
And at lunchtime, I sit in a classroom by myself while
everyone else was eating lunch.
I wasn't perfect and I needed to be perfect.
And for months, that is all that I ate.
I thought other people perceived us as perfect.
And I think that's the image that we tried to portray.
And so we didn't talk about problems, not to other people.
I grew up in a very, very strict home-- very
controlling, high expectations.
If anyone is going to put us on the map,
it's going to be Ashley.
I went on to win the pageant.
I was just trying so hard to please.
Every time I messed up and ate something I shouldn't eat--
huge amounts of guilt.
Is that what all of this was for?
I felt horrible losing control.
I didn't know what was next.
I wanted to make people happy.
I was in a lot of pain.
And just felt like this perfect life that I had--
thought I had--
was changing.
And I felt like everything in my life was
spinning out of control.
I hated myself.
I was getting tired of living like that,
tired of not eating.
I finally decided to let myself eat something.
And I remember sitting in my apartment, and I
got a box of cereal.
Before I knew it, I had eaten the whole box.
What did I just do?
I felt desperate.
I couldn't fathom that food staying in my body.
I went to the bathroom and tried to make myself throw up.
I couldn't do it.
I put on my shoes.
I took off running.
And I just ran and ran and ran until I felt like maybe I had
burned it off.
I came back to my apartment, and I still just was so angry
with myself.
I had a box of laxatives and took what was left.
I hated myself because I felt like that was the one thing in
my life that I was good at, that I could control.
And I'd just blown it.
I felt like I had this huge secret that I couldn't let
anyone know about.
And if they knew, they would just think that I was
disgusting.
I sat in my apartment, and closed the blinds and windows,
and turned off all the lights, locked the doors, and I just
sat in my apartment by myself.
I didn't know how to be normal.
I didn't know how to have a normal relationship with food.
I didn't know how to just eat something and enjoy it.
And I was miserable.
When I was at that low point, God just guided me
to pick up my bible.
It fell open to Romans 14.
And my eyes went to verses 7 and 8, "For we're
not our own masters when we live and when we die.
When we live, we live to please the Lord.
And when we die, we go to be with the Lord.
So in life and death, we belong to the Lord." I knew my
body was a temple.
I knew that I was not supposed to be vain.
But it wasn't about that.
Those were outward symptoms of it.
And what I needed was for Him to just grab me and
say, I've got this.
And I've got you.
And I'm in control.
And you don't have to be anymore.
I wish I could say that it was so easy to walk away from that
life and that I felt completely normal.
I still struggled a lot for a lot of years.
But He made it easier every day until I finally got to the
point where I felt like I could say, I'm healthy.
I'm OK.
I'm Ashley and I am Second.