Accidentally Anorexic

At 23 I accidentally went anorexic. This is funny to me because it is often considered such a control issue that it does not seem one could accidentally become anorexic... and yet I bet that is how many people initially become such.
and I did.
I am pretty unbelievable.
Yet, it's actually true, I accidentally went anorexic.
I was a nanny, also married and for about 9 months living with the family I nannied for.
I started the week after the twin boys were born. As they grew I was taking them for jogs in their double jogger up and down the hilly secluded roads of the Pacific Northwest.
The parents were very health and fitness conscious and the lady of the house was very meticulous. I was often in awe at what and how much she would throw out with out a second thought.
I was not that meticulous and aside from growing up in a large family with limited funds and resources I seem to see the world through potential colored glasses -I see potential uses or functions in just about everything. So I am not so meticulous and not nearly quick enough to clean up after myself since everything required some sort of evaluation before I could bring myself to throw it out.
That was one reason I didn't eat much while I was there. Also I'd get busy. Then their was the encouragement, praise, and maybe at times a touch of envy from the lady of the house when I started losing weight.
As the boys grew I slimmed and tightened. I started to feel good too.
Then I started to feel more powerful and in control.
I remember once catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror while I was changing. I noticed the definition to my usually spaghetti arms. I turned and flexed. I had abs and biceps and most my clothes were falling off me at that point. I felt pretty neat.
Fortunately my husband and I went home for Christmas and while snowboarding I rolled my ankle.
Bad enough that it was black and blue from toes to knee. It slowed me down and it was probably a good thing because I was still almost 5'7" but I now only weighed 100 lbs -actually the scale had dipped down to double digits- and I was feeling the addictive empowerment of anorexia before one looses too much of them self (literally).
At 24, when I got pregnant with my daughter, my first child, I weighed a whopping 106 lbs. I took a picture of the scale because I knew I would likely never see that number again on a scale holding me.
And I haven't. I have not gone anorexic again, I do not think I could if I tried, I just don't work like that. I don't try to create problems, I try to avoid them and when avoiding them causes a new problem I try to stay ahead of it when I realize the problem it has become or has the potential to become.
And that is how I roll.