Let's Talk About How Lolita Hurt Me

Note: This post details my struggle with my eating disorder. Please bear this in mind as you proceed - my experience is not the same as others. If you are in need of professional help, do not be afraid to reach out. There is always a time and a place to start your journey. 

 

The Dress - Angelic Pretty's Cosmic JSK

In 2014, my partner and I went took our first solo trip as young adults to California. While we were staying in San Diego, we decided to take a detour in LA to go to Fairytale Boutique for their Automatic Honey event. We both had been interested in Lolita since 2009 and we were both in the Maine Lolita Comm. I had been saving over the last month or so for the trip and decided if I could manage it, I wanted to buy something at the event. And I did - my first brand dress (later known as “The Dress”). I fell in love with this dress, the details and the print. I was starstruck. At the time, I didn’t realize that this dress would come to symbolize everything I hated about myself and the loss of control I experienced in late 2013-2015.

I never got to wear The Dress. When I bought it, I knew it would be too small. Having a 122cm bust at the time, most brand dresses with partial shirring were about 30cm too small. I had been attempting to lose weight for years and as the time I was working my way down the scale. I felt better than I ever had and thought a bit more pushing would get me there. Safe to say, I never did. A little over a year after I bought The Dress, I was diagnosed with an eating disorder.

When I say Lolita hurt me, I don’t mean the community or the fashion itself. I felt so welcome in our comm and met many wonderful people. I still love Lolita to this day, though I no longer participate. For me, Lolita enabled my disorder to speak and act for me. In 2014, I was trying to edge myself down to 1,000 calories or less a day, compulsively exercising if I didn’t hit my daily goal. I kept The Dress hanging in my room where I could see it, so that I felt compelled to continue on my journey. I was obsessive about the foods I ate, but felt a deep sense of loss since I had begun to see all food as an enemy. Nothing I did seemed to work well enough, so I cycled into binging. I went through periods of severe restriction and overeating, more so than I ever had. It was like whiplash.

It was worse when our comm set up a resolutions group for New Years in 2015. It didn’t have to be a fitness goal, but that’s the kind of change most of us wanted to see. We all encouraged each other to do our best, but I was unable to think about these goals in a healthy manner. At the same time, my dad and I began a little weight loss contest: if I won, my parents would buy me my current dream dress. All I had to do was be able to fit into those dresses, I thought, then I could be happy. While I wouldn’t admit it, as 2015 edged on, I grew severely depressed.

I spent that summer away from home, away from my comm, at an internship. I was stressed, tired, lonely, and neck deep in self loathing. I walked 3 miles every day, but I felt like I was gaining weight. My eating habits were all over the place. About a month after I finished my internship, I felt overwhelmed and I finally admitted that I needed help.

When I started recovery, our comm began to dissolve. Everyone was busy with work and school, and a few of our girls moved abroad. For the time being I stopped thinking about The Dress - though it remained hung it my room, I bagged it with two other dresses. It was mostly out of my sight, until I began moving in March of 2018.

I had been wishy-washy when talking about The Dress with my mother and my partner: I didn’t want to sell it, even though four years had elapsed and I knew from working with my dietician that intentional weight loss was not in my future. The Dress didn’t fit and it was taking up space. We didn’t even wear Lolita anymore, aside from one small foray for a work event. It’s still sitting at my parent’s house, waiting for me to decide what I wanted from it. I was emotionally attached: my first brand dress from my first trip to California, the thing I invested so much time, money, and energy into. I couldn’t let it go.

Until this past month. My partner and I decided to sell all our Lolita in order to save money for our future. I felt ready to pass on The Dress to someone who would love it and actually wear it. It was like, I woke up one morning and decided it was time. I was ready. Over time, I realized The Dress had a lot of the old me attached to it. It represented the starvation, the struggle, the binging, the loathing, the disappointment, the guilt I felt over the four years I’ve owned it. I wanted to fit into a mold so badly, that I ended up harming myself and changing myself indefinitely.

I am still recovering. I have a lot to reteach myself, but I try everyday to find things that make me happy the way I am. It’s a hard thing to ask of myself, however it’s all I can do. I never want to wake up again feeling like I am enslaved by an article of clothing. I don’t want to obsess over things that no longer serve me.

Lolita was something I loved, but the best thing I ever did was let it go.

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