We had an interesting conversation today in the lunchroom and I want to throw it out there to you guys to get some thoughts. My friend and co-worker has an eight year old daughter who has been using the f word. FAT. "I'm fat" with her hands on her stomach.
They have tried to affirm her with some healthy thoughts but she still doesn't see her beauty, she sees her weight. Of course these conversations terrify me because I was the eight year old who thought I was fat too. All of these years later my inner eight year old still points at my thighs and moans, "So fat." I never want another girl to hear those words.
I want her view herself with truth. I want her to see the beauty she possesses. She is a darling girl with a fabulous smile. She is perfect. But she can't see that. She is seeing through distorted eyes. And I have to wonder, do all girls see through distorted eyes? Maybe, but not all girls go as far as eating disorders to fix the perception of distorted vision.
How can my friend help her daughter? Can she avoid the road I've walked or is it as some have said genetic and cannot be stopped? What do you say to an eight year old who thinks she is fat? I seriously want to cry and I want to hold her and I want to protect her from this.
Or do all girls say they are fat at eight and I'm just hyper sensitive to their negative body image? Aren't eight year olds supposed to be more concerned with puppies and dolls than weight? Or is that just the ideal image in my head that doesn't really exist?
Showing posts with label weight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
how did you do it?
I was chatting with a customer tonight at work. We started talking about the wildfires here in Colorado right now, then about the wind and then about our kids. It was a pleasant conversation until it came up how many kids I have. She looked straight at my stomach and said incredulously, "YOU have THREE kids?????" I smiled, forcing myself to not mention that I had just watched her stare at my stomach and confirmed, yep, three boys.
And then she said it. "Wow! How did you lose the weight? You look fabulous. I'm still 40 lbs more than I used to be. How did you get your body back?" And then I said it. You don't want this body. It hasn't been worth it, the 40lbs would be better. You don't want to live this life.
She suddenly looked at me with empathy and comfort instead of awe. She assured me of my beauty and told me to not dwell on my perception of my body. And I'm grateful for that. But it is still hard that someone looked that closely at my body when I'm afraid to look closely at it myself.
And then she said it. "Wow! How did you lose the weight? You look fabulous. I'm still 40 lbs more than I used to be. How did you get your body back?" And then I said it. You don't want this body. It hasn't been worth it, the 40lbs would be better. You don't want to live this life.
She suddenly looked at me with empathy and comfort instead of awe. She assured me of my beauty and told me to not dwell on my perception of my body. And I'm grateful for that. But it is still hard that someone looked that closely at my body when I'm afraid to look closely at it myself.
Monday, December 19, 2011
lies I tell and other nonsense
so much on my mind. and yet I find myself inspired to write based on something else I read.
things I miss:
things I long for:
And yet I lie. I saw some friends I hadn't seen in months. I said I was doing great. I'm not. One asked how food was going, I told her fine. I ordered food, everyone was watching to see if I would. I even commented on how I couldn't wait for the food to get there. But that wasn't true, it was for the benefit of those around me. It worked, they were thrilled to hear me say that. One of them continued asking me if I was eating. I finally became a smart ass and smiled and said, "Well, I figure once every 4 days is pretty good progress." Another lie, but at least that one was funny, or at least the look on her face was.
I even lie to hubby. Tell him I'm doing fine. All the while hiding the fact that I'm far from fine. He caught me today. He saw the longing look I gave Jimmy John's last night when we drove past. He suggested it today since he knew I'd been wanting it. I told him Chipotle would be better. He's too observant. He wanted to know how long it had been since I'd had a sandwich. And then why. I cringed and told him in one word. "Bread." He took me out for sandwiches. I was still hungry when I stopped but I told him I was full. More than half of my sandwich went to waste. That seems like such a shame. I passed a sign today that talked about how many people in Colorado struggle with hunger. And I felt like the supreme jack ass for CHOOSING to struggle with hunger.
I want to hide. I want to not have to lie. I'm just so very tired. I'm even ready for December to be over when Hubby will notice even quicker when I'm not taking care of myself. Mostly, because I'm just ready to be taken care of and I know he will. I lie and yet wish for my husband to see through my lie. I guess maybe not all hope is lost after all, if I wish for someone to not buy my lie.
things I miss:
- a batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies
- comfort foods
- telling the love of my life what is really going on
things I long for:
- days with no alarm clock (thank God that my boys are nearly on winter break!)
- no responsibility at all
- finding joy in things that I know bring me joy but I don't feel right now
- to be able to eat ONE Christmas cookie this year and to not experience guilt with that cookie
And yet I lie. I saw some friends I hadn't seen in months. I said I was doing great. I'm not. One asked how food was going, I told her fine. I ordered food, everyone was watching to see if I would. I even commented on how I couldn't wait for the food to get there. But that wasn't true, it was for the benefit of those around me. It worked, they were thrilled to hear me say that. One of them continued asking me if I was eating. I finally became a smart ass and smiled and said, "Well, I figure once every 4 days is pretty good progress." Another lie, but at least that one was funny, or at least the look on her face was.
I even lie to hubby. Tell him I'm doing fine. All the while hiding the fact that I'm far from fine. He caught me today. He saw the longing look I gave Jimmy John's last night when we drove past. He suggested it today since he knew I'd been wanting it. I told him Chipotle would be better. He's too observant. He wanted to know how long it had been since I'd had a sandwich. And then why. I cringed and told him in one word. "Bread." He took me out for sandwiches. I was still hungry when I stopped but I told him I was full. More than half of my sandwich went to waste. That seems like such a shame. I passed a sign today that talked about how many people in Colorado struggle with hunger. And I felt like the supreme jack ass for CHOOSING to struggle with hunger.
I want to hide. I want to not have to lie. I'm just so very tired. I'm even ready for December to be over when Hubby will notice even quicker when I'm not taking care of myself. Mostly, because I'm just ready to be taken care of and I know he will. I lie and yet wish for my husband to see through my lie. I guess maybe not all hope is lost after all, if I wish for someone to not buy my lie.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
doctor update
My doctor appointment on Thursday went well and not so well. I was down another pound, not so great. My iron is higher than last year, still no where near where I need it to be though. Ferritin levels below 13 are considered anemia. Last year I was at 14. This year I am 16. I need to be in the mid 60's minimum to have a reserve store of iron that my body can pull from.
At one point she was pondering some of my labs, why some things were low but not others directly linked to those things. Then she asked it, "So how are you doing with eating?" Apparently what I had had on Thursday up to that point wasn't enough to be called a meal much less most of a days nutrition. Aha, it all made sense to her.
When we addressed my weight, metabolism, strength, bmi, and body fat percentage I started to fidget. She says, "So you are staying within your normal range on all of these things. That should make you feel happy, right?" NO! I told her about accompanying hubby to his appointment and how his body fat percentage is just barely higher than mine which is highly unfair because I am definitely the one who puts healthier foods in my body. She told me the explanation for that. My body needs more protein. When you are not getting enough food to fuel your body, the body retains the fat thinking it will need the fat to stay warm. My body is attacking itself in search of protein. My body is devouring my muscles in search of protein and storing the fat to keep itself warm. Having said all of this, she was rather surprised at how well I did on the strength test.
At one point in the conversation she asked me something that I have been thinking about since. I for the life of me cannot remember what the question was but after I answered one of her questions, she said, "Do you not want to get better?" Crap! That was a whole different can of worms. I honestly don't know. I do want to get better. I just don't want to have to let go of this to do it. How contradictory is that?????? I want to live my life, not just exist through it. I have amazing dreams of the life I want. I am also terrified of that life and like knowing that orange is holding my hand and giving me security of the familiar.
The doctor did start me on a new anti-depressant. It makes me tired but most of them do when you first start them. My kitchen will tell you in a couple of weeks if the medicine is helping or not ;-) ! We also adjusted my thyroid again because it is still over functioning. Hopefully in a few weeks, by the time my kids are back in school, I'll be feeling a little more normal. Thanks for the comments here, the emails and the texts from those of you checking in on me. I do appreciate the support and accountability.
At one point she was pondering some of my labs, why some things were low but not others directly linked to those things. Then she asked it, "So how are you doing with eating?" Apparently what I had had on Thursday up to that point wasn't enough to be called a meal much less most of a days nutrition. Aha, it all made sense to her.
When we addressed my weight, metabolism, strength, bmi, and body fat percentage I started to fidget. She says, "So you are staying within your normal range on all of these things. That should make you feel happy, right?" NO! I told her about accompanying hubby to his appointment and how his body fat percentage is just barely higher than mine which is highly unfair because I am definitely the one who puts healthier foods in my body. She told me the explanation for that. My body needs more protein. When you are not getting enough food to fuel your body, the body retains the fat thinking it will need the fat to stay warm. My body is attacking itself in search of protein. My body is devouring my muscles in search of protein and storing the fat to keep itself warm. Having said all of this, she was rather surprised at how well I did on the strength test.
At one point in the conversation she asked me something that I have been thinking about since. I for the life of me cannot remember what the question was but after I answered one of her questions, she said, "Do you not want to get better?" Crap! That was a whole different can of worms. I honestly don't know. I do want to get better. I just don't want to have to let go of this to do it. How contradictory is that?????? I want to live my life, not just exist through it. I have amazing dreams of the life I want. I am also terrified of that life and like knowing that orange is holding my hand and giving me security of the familiar.
The doctor did start me on a new anti-depressant. It makes me tired but most of them do when you first start them. My kitchen will tell you in a couple of weeks if the medicine is helping or not ;-) ! We also adjusted my thyroid again because it is still over functioning. Hopefully in a few weeks, by the time my kids are back in school, I'll be feeling a little more normal. Thanks for the comments here, the emails and the texts from those of you checking in on me. I do appreciate the support and accountability.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
orange rant
I am sorry for this, but I simply have to give in to a huge orange rant. Sorry in advance for the bitching and moaning but if I don't get this out of my head and into the open, it will stay in my head and destroy me.
I absolutely hate what I see in the mirror right now. The closing my eyes in the shower trick hasn't kept working. I am desperately trying to remember what it was I felt/knew last week when I discovered it.
So I went to the doctor today for my physical. Um, the scale read 1/2 lb less than last time but the new nurse rounds up instead of down so the chart says it is the same. How in the heck have I had diarrhea for the last week (sorry for tmi) and barely eaten anything the past couple of days and the scale says the same freakin thing it did last time I went in??????? And why in the world would ANYONE round the numbers UP when weighing someone????? My doctor didn't actually bring up food this time around. She asked if I wanted to talk about anything else and like a good little liar, I told her no that I'm fine. She brought up doing a bone density scan but I just had one last August that was ok so we didn't do it today. I don't think insurance would pay for 2 in one year anyway.
And then there was the stupid metabolic testing and fitness testing. The guy typed in my height at an inch below what I actually am. I mentally completely freaked out!!!!!!!!! Seriously, that inch means a different way my body metabolizes, a different set of weight guidelines, and who knows what else. For my body, that inch shorter at the same weight looks so much fatter in my mind. I know, crazy, right? That paper inch may not change how I look but it changes how I felt about myself. I informed him, he remeasured me and corrected it. Whew! I did well at the squats, pushups and crunches. That wasn't a big deal. But then the waist to hip ratio? Oh yeah, I nearly cried. Thankfully he wasn't dumb enough to tell me the numbers he measured. But I had to have a measuring tape around my stomach, and it was a man measuring/touching me. He wasn't weird or inappropriate, its just that a guy was touching me and measuring me. I don't want to be measured. I don't want to know that my body exists in numbers. And I don't want a member of the opposite sex knowing those numbers. Oh and my body fat percentage was not at all happy news to me. Much higher than I like.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
what you said and what she heard
what you said: You look great! (with a gesture towards her body)
what she heard: Oh my gosh! I have gained a million pounds and they think I look chunky now!
what you said: WOW, have you been working out lately?
what she heard: Nice job on the weight loss, keep starving! It's paying.
what you said: I wish I could be tiny like you!
what she heard: You better not gain weight or no one will want to be like you anymore. No one likes a fat girl.
what you said: I need to drop a few of these pounds! My hips are huge!
what she heard: You need to drop a few more pounds! Your hips are huge!
what you said: I finally dropped my baby weight plus some!
what she heard: You could stand to shed a few pounds yourself.
what you said: I don't eat _______ kind of food, it makes me bloated/gain weight/against my diet
what she heard: You shouldn't eat.
what you said: have you lost weight again?
what she heard: I don't think that you have really have lost weight? You still look bigger to me.
what you said: Aren't you going to eat?
what she heard: I can't believe I have to deal with your garbage AGAIN. Can't you just get over yourself and quit making me uncomfortable around you?
It doesn't make sense. It isn't rational. That is the disorder of it. Your intentions are good, she is just hearing you through orange colored hearing aids. The disorder takes priority over all else. If you could rationalize it, she wouldn't have a problem and you wouldn't need to rationalize it.
Small things trigger her, and you don't even mean to. Things like new health food kicks, how long you spent at the gym, how much weight you have lost by running, your disgust/unappreciation of your own body, or saying your actual weight or your desired weight. To you it is random conversation, to her, it is an obsession of body image. She won't hear what you really say and that is not your fault, it is the disorders fault.
This wasn't a post to scare you away from talking to someone with an eating disorder. It was a post to help you understand a little bit of what goes on inside her brain while you are talking to her. Keep talking, she needs to know she is worth knowing.
what she heard: Oh my gosh! I have gained a million pounds and they think I look chunky now!
what you said: WOW, have you been working out lately?
what she heard: Nice job on the weight loss, keep starving! It's paying.
what you said: I wish I could be tiny like you!
what she heard: You better not gain weight or no one will want to be like you anymore. No one likes a fat girl.
what you said: I need to drop a few of these pounds! My hips are huge!
what she heard: You need to drop a few more pounds! Your hips are huge!
what you said: I finally dropped my baby weight plus some!
what she heard: You could stand to shed a few pounds yourself.
what you said: I don't eat _______ kind of food, it makes me bloated/gain weight/against my diet
what she heard: You shouldn't eat.
what you said: have you lost weight again?
what she heard: I don't think that you have really have lost weight? You still look bigger to me.
what you said: Aren't you going to eat?
what she heard: I can't believe I have to deal with your garbage AGAIN. Can't you just get over yourself and quit making me uncomfortable around you?
It doesn't make sense. It isn't rational. That is the disorder of it. Your intentions are good, she is just hearing you through orange colored hearing aids. The disorder takes priority over all else. If you could rationalize it, she wouldn't have a problem and you wouldn't need to rationalize it.
Small things trigger her, and you don't even mean to. Things like new health food kicks, how long you spent at the gym, how much weight you have lost by running, your disgust/unappreciation of your own body, or saying your actual weight or your desired weight. To you it is random conversation, to her, it is an obsession of body image. She won't hear what you really say and that is not your fault, it is the disorders fault.
This wasn't a post to scare you away from talking to someone with an eating disorder. It was a post to help you understand a little bit of what goes on inside her brain while you are talking to her. Keep talking, she needs to know she is worth knowing.
Orange won, or did she?
At the end of a hot day, nothing sounded better tonight than an ice cold beer with dinner. Orange said no. Orange won that round for sure, I didn't even argue with her. "You have a physical in 3 days and you are NOT going in there with extra pounds because you wanted a beer! There will be no beer belly's on Thursday and I don't care what we have to do to make sure of it!" It's not good for me anyway.
I'm not going to lie, there have been quite a few orange thoughts today. BUT in the area of not giving in to orange, while walking in the store tonight I spotted a display of Pringles near the registers. I bought a can and who on earth am I because I actually ate some too!
Kinda feels like tug-o-war. Buy the chips. Eat the chips, they sound good. But for the love of all that is holy, don't even think about the beer. And heaven help me, don't you dare eat a cookie for dessert. Are you missing the point of having to be weighed in 3 days?????? So orange didn't let me have a beer or a cookie but I told her off and had a couple of chips. That is progress, right? I seriously don't remember the last time I ate Pringles. AND they were good too. Is that how normal people feel about food? "Hmmmm, that looks good, I think I'll eat it." It was such a foreign feeling to me.
I'd be lying if I said that I have no desire to restrict at all. I hate having to go to the doctor. The anxiety is ridiculous. I'm not anxious that something is wrong. I'm anxious that I have to hear the "how are you doing with your relationship with food?" conversation. It seems that if I say I am sucking at dealing with food, that I'd be lying but if I say that I am enjoying food and doing well, I'd also be lying. Being at an ok, kinda-stable-but-not-the-best place makes me want to avoid my doctor. Ahhhh, the irrationality of orange. I want to be either sick or better, not somewhere in between when I talk to my doctor. Sick is easier to obtain, and as a result, sick thoughts have been having their way with my brain.
Now thankfully, I don't always have to give in to the sick thoughts. I can choose to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and usually I do. I'm just tired of the thoughts being disordered. I'm tired of doing the next right thing. I'm still doing what I should, I just am ready for the day when it is more than a should but also a want. Like that glimpse I had tonight, I feel like chips, I'm going to have them. I want a bunch more glimpses of that kind of freedom and for food to be a want not just a need/should. I want the mental struggle to be over. And I really want my physical to just be over too! My anxiety levels will go down so much when it is!
I'm not going to lie, there have been quite a few orange thoughts today. BUT in the area of not giving in to orange, while walking in the store tonight I spotted a display of Pringles near the registers. I bought a can and who on earth am I because I actually ate some too!
Kinda feels like tug-o-war. Buy the chips. Eat the chips, they sound good. But for the love of all that is holy, don't even think about the beer. And heaven help me, don't you dare eat a cookie for dessert. Are you missing the point of having to be weighed in 3 days?????? So orange didn't let me have a beer or a cookie but I told her off and had a couple of chips. That is progress, right? I seriously don't remember the last time I ate Pringles. AND they were good too. Is that how normal people feel about food? "Hmmmm, that looks good, I think I'll eat it." It was such a foreign feeling to me.
I'd be lying if I said that I have no desire to restrict at all. I hate having to go to the doctor. The anxiety is ridiculous. I'm not anxious that something is wrong. I'm anxious that I have to hear the "how are you doing with your relationship with food?" conversation. It seems that if I say I am sucking at dealing with food, that I'd be lying but if I say that I am enjoying food and doing well, I'd also be lying. Being at an ok, kinda-stable-but-not-the-best place makes me want to avoid my doctor. Ahhhh, the irrationality of orange. I want to be either sick or better, not somewhere in between when I talk to my doctor. Sick is easier to obtain, and as a result, sick thoughts have been having their way with my brain.
Now thankfully, I don't always have to give in to the sick thoughts. I can choose to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and usually I do. I'm just tired of the thoughts being disordered. I'm tired of doing the next right thing. I'm still doing what I should, I just am ready for the day when it is more than a should but also a want. Like that glimpse I had tonight, I feel like chips, I'm going to have them. I want a bunch more glimpses of that kind of freedom and for food to be a want not just a need/should. I want the mental struggle to be over. And I really want my physical to just be over too! My anxiety levels will go down so much when it is!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
e.d talks in orange (previously titled: ahhhhh, much better)
Ok, now that my everyone in my house is sleeping peacefully and I can think straight instead of just having random emotions dive bomb me sporadically, I'm back. My house is quiet, my beer is not quite cold but not warm either, and my brain is focused.
This morning was the follow up to the thyroid check I had 2 weeks ago. I stepped on the scale, facing forward, confident that I was going to be ok. The number wasn't actually too scarey. I half smiled. Then e.d spoke. "You know, that number isn't too terrible. It is only a pound higher than your desired weight and 6 pounds higher than your ideal weight. That would be easy enough to get rid of." Wait, where the heck did that voice in my head just come from. Wasn't I just ok with the number a moment ago? I had just half smiled because I knew my doctor wasn't going to scold me. I knew this number was still within my acceptable range. But for a moment, e.d. told me it wasn't actually an acceptable number.
So then there was actually seeing the doctor. She was going over my thyroid labs, explaining them to me. She informed me that we have over-corrected my thyroid and now it is functioning too high (and for anyone out there with endocrinology experience, I do know know that running "high" is actually a lower number and running "low" is a higher number!) . Grrr, come on body, find your balance! She asked me a series of questions, the first being, "Have you had any unexplained weight loss?" Well, yes, now that you mention it. I did ask my hubby just yesterday if he thought I had lost weight again. My shorts that fit well just last week were pretty loose this week. He said he thinks I have, but said I don't look unhealthy at this point. She concurred. I am down ____ lbs since March. She isn't worried. I'm still within healthy range, though on the lower end of it. She said it is because my thyroid is running so high right now.
So we are decreasing my dose of thyroid meds, which I'm actually glad about. I was so jacked the past few times that I have had a thyroid test, that my dosage had gotten high enough that it required 2 pills because I had exceeded the highest dose they make. I do not mind going down to just 1 pill. Then e.d spoke. "You do know that when your thyroid balances out and quits being hyperactive that you will gain weight, don't you? You know, you could keep taking the full dose. She would never know unless you told her and then your weight wouldn't go back up." E.d. lies. My body won't properly use the nutrients that I give it if I let it continue out of control, and yet e.d tried to tell me that wouldn't be a big deal.
*****in case you are wondering, the voice of e.d being in orange is not a coincidence. orange is probably my least favorite in the rainbow. E.d's voice is the color I like least so that I can actually see how much I dislike it! Yes, my logic is interesting, but it works for me :)
I don't think I actually was able to acknowledge how far I have come until I spoke with the doctor. It was encouraging to be able to look her in the eye when she asked me questions. It was encouraging to hear her comment on the difference in me in the last year. I'm actually making progress! Yay for progress!
The other things of the day weren't as big as they felt earlier. I am still discouraged in the taking care of the house aspect though. I need someone who can help me get through this, someone who can teach me and not judge me at the same time. In a perfect world I would have someone who was both a professional organizer and a therapist all in one who could help me clean up and deal with whatever the issues are that are contributing to my chaos. Oh, yeah, and their help would be free because we cannot even afford ANY extras right now!
It is hard knowing there is a massive perfectionist in me when I look around. Earlier, when I was over the top upset, all I could think of was, "I can't even be a perfectionist right! What is wrong with me?!?" Only I would think such a silly thought.
So that was my day. On a side note I may soon be employed by someone who pays me with real money instead of hugs and kisses. Now, don't get me wrong, I love getting paid in hugs, kisses, colored pictures and "I love you mommy!" 's, but to be able to contribute to our financial situation and still get to spend most of my day with my boys sounds wonderful. I'll only tell you more if I get the job (I don't care if it is nearly for sure, I'm not talking about it until it is really for sure!).
On another side note, this morning I told my doctor how much you all have played in my recovery. The support I feel when I'm overwhelmed, having a rough day, hating my body, or crying when I eat is unparalleled. I'm guessing that a bunch of people who have affected my story, don't even know I exist. Not only do I get great encouragement from you guys, I also find that those you follow give me great encouragement as well. You guys are an amazing support system and I love you all! Thanks for making the journey of recovery as pleasant as it is possible for it to be.
This morning was the follow up to the thyroid check I had 2 weeks ago. I stepped on the scale, facing forward, confident that I was going to be ok. The number wasn't actually too scarey. I half smiled. Then e.d spoke. "You know, that number isn't too terrible. It is only a pound higher than your desired weight and 6 pounds higher than your ideal weight. That would be easy enough to get rid of." Wait, where the heck did that voice in my head just come from. Wasn't I just ok with the number a moment ago? I had just half smiled because I knew my doctor wasn't going to scold me. I knew this number was still within my acceptable range. But for a moment, e.d. told me it wasn't actually an acceptable number.
So then there was actually seeing the doctor. She was going over my thyroid labs, explaining them to me. She informed me that we have over-corrected my thyroid and now it is functioning too high (and for anyone out there with endocrinology experience, I do know know that running "high" is actually a lower number and running "low" is a higher number!) . Grrr, come on body, find your balance! She asked me a series of questions, the first being, "Have you had any unexplained weight loss?" Well, yes, now that you mention it. I did ask my hubby just yesterday if he thought I had lost weight again. My shorts that fit well just last week were pretty loose this week. He said he thinks I have, but said I don't look unhealthy at this point. She concurred. I am down ____ lbs since March. She isn't worried. I'm still within healthy range, though on the lower end of it. She said it is because my thyroid is running so high right now.
So we are decreasing my dose of thyroid meds, which I'm actually glad about. I was so jacked the past few times that I have had a thyroid test, that my dosage had gotten high enough that it required 2 pills because I had exceeded the highest dose they make. I do not mind going down to just 1 pill. Then e.d spoke. "You do know that when your thyroid balances out and quits being hyperactive that you will gain weight, don't you? You know, you could keep taking the full dose. She would never know unless you told her and then your weight wouldn't go back up." E.d. lies. My body won't properly use the nutrients that I give it if I let it continue out of control, and yet e.d tried to tell me that wouldn't be a big deal.
*****in case you are wondering, the voice of e.d being in orange is not a coincidence. orange is probably my least favorite in the rainbow. E.d's voice is the color I like least so that I can actually see how much I dislike it! Yes, my logic is interesting, but it works for me :)
I don't think I actually was able to acknowledge how far I have come until I spoke with the doctor. It was encouraging to be able to look her in the eye when she asked me questions. It was encouraging to hear her comment on the difference in me in the last year. I'm actually making progress! Yay for progress!
The other things of the day weren't as big as they felt earlier. I am still discouraged in the taking care of the house aspect though. I need someone who can help me get through this, someone who can teach me and not judge me at the same time. In a perfect world I would have someone who was both a professional organizer and a therapist all in one who could help me clean up and deal with whatever the issues are that are contributing to my chaos. Oh, yeah, and their help would be free because we cannot even afford ANY extras right now!
It is hard knowing there is a massive perfectionist in me when I look around. Earlier, when I was over the top upset, all I could think of was, "I can't even be a perfectionist right! What is wrong with me?!?" Only I would think such a silly thought.
So that was my day. On a side note I may soon be employed by someone who pays me with real money instead of hugs and kisses. Now, don't get me wrong, I love getting paid in hugs, kisses, colored pictures and "I love you mommy!" 's, but to be able to contribute to our financial situation and still get to spend most of my day with my boys sounds wonderful. I'll only tell you more if I get the job (I don't care if it is nearly for sure, I'm not talking about it until it is really for sure!).
On another side note, this morning I told my doctor how much you all have played in my recovery. The support I feel when I'm overwhelmed, having a rough day, hating my body, or crying when I eat is unparalleled. I'm guessing that a bunch of people who have affected my story, don't even know I exist. Not only do I get great encouragement from you guys, I also find that those you follow give me great encouragement as well. You guys are an amazing support system and I love you all! Thanks for making the journey of recovery as pleasant as it is possible for it to be.
quick debrief
I don't have time. I need to debrief in a flash. Good day and bad day. Down some weight. Doc says I'm still in normal but the low end of normal now. My thyroid is now over functioning. Fun times.
Something must be wrong with me, but I don't know how to fix it. Hubby is frustrated over the mess, I genuinely didn't notice it until he pointed it out. Why can't I see it? It is like those 3D pictures you have to stare at forever to see the image. My brother in law has never been able to see the image in those. I'm like that. Why can't I see the mess?
More financial bad news hit today. I'm frustrated. I'm angry. Why can't we get our act together? I need to get dinner for my family. I'll expound upon my doctors appt, my conversation with e.d., and my life later. Right now I just had to just say it!
Something must be wrong with me, but I don't know how to fix it. Hubby is frustrated over the mess, I genuinely didn't notice it until he pointed it out. Why can't I see it? It is like those 3D pictures you have to stare at forever to see the image. My brother in law has never been able to see the image in those. I'm like that. Why can't I see the mess?
More financial bad news hit today. I'm frustrated. I'm angry. Why can't we get our act together? I need to get dinner for my family. I'll expound upon my doctors appt, my conversation with e.d., and my life later. Right now I just had to just say it!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
shorts
Yesterday I did something that I haven't done in probably a decade. I bought shorts. Not burmuda shorts, not capris, not pants that can roll up to be capris, but real shorts. They were on clearance so I could justify it if I never worked up the courage to wear them. I tried them on this morning and before I could whisk them off again, hubby was complementing me. He may have known, may have not known that I was terrified to wear them out in public. He encouraged me to wear them, insisted that I looked great, told me all great things come in pairs, complemented my legs often throughout the day and all the way around was my confidence for the day.
You see, he saw curves and he likes them. I, however, see thighs. I have never liked my thighs. Even before I ever had an eating disorder and thought the shape of my legs was entirely relevant to everything I do, I still felt awkward and embarrassed by my thighs. At hubby's insistence that I had to wear the cute shorts I had on, I finally agreed. I knew I wasn't going to be comfortable in my skin so I added my cute thick wedge sandals. The wedge would give the illusion of more tone to my legs. I added a second coat of blue nail polish to my toes. I decided the fingers could use a coat to match the toes. I did my makeup. I did everything I could to keep my focus on things that were NOT my legs.
I wouldn't call it completely successful but I also wouldn't say it was a complete failure either. I wore the shorts all day. We went to the museum and to the zoo. I was able to keep my mind off of my legs as long as I was standing up (which was a good chunk of my day). I was able to distract myself with my bright blue nail polish and playing with my kids. I forced myself, though not always easily, to not "hear" the comments that I "know" are being said about my legs and butt. And you know what? Gosh darn it, I actually had fun! Maybe if I can stop thinking about my legs more often, I would enjoy so many more experiences that I worry anxiously over and miss out on.
And here is the final result......
You see, he saw curves and he likes them. I, however, see thighs. I have never liked my thighs. Even before I ever had an eating disorder and thought the shape of my legs was entirely relevant to everything I do, I still felt awkward and embarrassed by my thighs. At hubby's insistence that I had to wear the cute shorts I had on, I finally agreed. I knew I wasn't going to be comfortable in my skin so I added my cute thick wedge sandals. The wedge would give the illusion of more tone to my legs. I added a second coat of blue nail polish to my toes. I decided the fingers could use a coat to match the toes. I did my makeup. I did everything I could to keep my focus on things that were NOT my legs.
I wouldn't call it completely successful but I also wouldn't say it was a complete failure either. I wore the shorts all day. We went to the museum and to the zoo. I was able to keep my mind off of my legs as long as I was standing up (which was a good chunk of my day). I was able to distract myself with my bright blue nail polish and playing with my kids. I forced myself, though not always easily, to not "hear" the comments that I "know" are being said about my legs and butt. And you know what? Gosh darn it, I actually had fun! Maybe if I can stop thinking about my legs more often, I would enjoy so many more experiences that I worry anxiously over and miss out on.
And here is the final result......
 |
| Me and my boys being pirates |
 |
| ready to hoist the jolly roger and sail the 7 seas |
 |
| cotton candy mouth |
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| cotton candy mouth and pirate "tattoo" on the face |
 |
| the pirate turtle |
 |
| my fun distraction :) |
Sunday, May 22, 2011
weight jokes
A friend on Facebook mentioned that she was reading a memoir about anorexia and bulimia, while eating popcorn. The comments that ensued were all jokes about e.d. Comments like, "well as long as you don't throw up, you're ok " and several others. I got defensive. None of these people knew that the first person to leave a comment asked about the book because she is recovering from e.d. They don't know me from Adam and yet I felt every word they said as an individual and specific attack. Why is joking about eating disorders ok? Why is it funny? Why do I care what people I have never met think about eating disorders?
A friend of hubby's told me to ask hubby about a definition on Urban Dictionary that they had stumbled across. I tried to smile when hubby told me but I don't know if I was convincing*. It was a comment about a woman's stomach. I wanted to cry. What if someone ever referred to me at that particular thing? I would be devastated! And though the reality is that term doesn't apply to me, I often feel like it does so it is still a hurtful comment.
Why is it ok to call people fat? Why is it ok to laugh about weight whether over or under? Why does the world care about those damn numbers? Why do I care about those damn numbers? I know beauty isn't on the scale. I know that. Why is is so hard to feel it?
The most beautiful people I have met, don't need a scale to be beautiful. I have seen amazing beauty in people tall and short and every degree of weight, every hairstyle, every style of clothing. Beauty is within them and is not accentuated by make up or nice clothes, and is not detracted from them by sweat pants and pony tails. So why is beauty so subjective? Why do the comments matter if the beauty isn't on the outside? Why can't we just all be free to be the beauty that we actually are?
* To be fair, hubby was sensitive to me about it when I faked my laugh. I just wonder if J realized my laugh was fake and I was annoyed.
A friend of hubby's told me to ask hubby about a definition on Urban Dictionary that they had stumbled across. I tried to smile when hubby told me but I don't know if I was convincing*. It was a comment about a woman's stomach. I wanted to cry. What if someone ever referred to me at that particular thing? I would be devastated! And though the reality is that term doesn't apply to me, I often feel like it does so it is still a hurtful comment.
Why is it ok to call people fat? Why is it ok to laugh about weight whether over or under? Why does the world care about those damn numbers? Why do I care about those damn numbers? I know beauty isn't on the scale. I know that. Why is is so hard to feel it?
The most beautiful people I have met, don't need a scale to be beautiful. I have seen amazing beauty in people tall and short and every degree of weight, every hairstyle, every style of clothing. Beauty is within them and is not accentuated by make up or nice clothes, and is not detracted from them by sweat pants and pony tails. So why is beauty so subjective? Why do the comments matter if the beauty isn't on the outside? Why can't we just all be free to be the beauty that we actually are?
* To be fair, hubby was sensitive to me about it when I faked my laugh. I just wonder if J realized my laugh was fake and I was annoyed.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
scales vs. beauty
No scales allowed! My clothes just didn't fit quite right today. Hubby did say he was aware of that. I made him promise he would tell me when he notices it because I often don't notice until it is too late and I am spiraling. Clothes a bit loose, collar bone a bit pronounced, hands and feet freezing, and yet all in all it was not a bad day.
I ate breakfast at MOPS, or at least I thought I did. Someone commented on how I didn't have much to eat. Here I was proud for the array of foods I did try but it was pointed out to me that I didn't really eat as much as I thought I did. I'm finding myself getting really pissed off at "fat talk" lately. I'm tired of hearing beautiful women talk about needing to loose that extra 5 or 10 pounds. Don't they know that their perfection and dissatisfaction only fuel my own obsession? Of course they don't, they don't even know I struggle.
I want to ring the necks of the new moms complaining about the baby weight when their babies are still newborns. I want to shake them and tell them how beautiful they are. I told a friend with a newborn just last week that her body had sustained life within itself and should be celebrated for the miracle it is rather than demeaned for what it just did in carrying and birthing and caring for that new life.
Why do 5 or 10 pounds really matter to us? Would those same women be happy with their bodies if the did lose those last few pounds? I doubt it. I know I wasn't. So you lose the pounds and become your "ideal" weight, then what happens? You find something else to nitpick your body about. Trust me, I know! For those of us with disordered eating, the ideal weight may be reached but then it becomes a few pounds lighter and then a few more pounds lighter and before you know it, your ideal weight is unhealthily low.
When will we, especially as women, learn that our bodies are amazing and capable? Our bodies are beautiful and intricate. Our bodies are gifts and and temples. Our bodies are wonderfully made. I see it in you. I see beauty and strength you never knew existed. I see fierce determination. I see (as Steven Curtis Chapman says) the fingerprints of God when I look at you. You're a masterpiece. Now if I could only look in the mirror and see that same beauty and perfection!
Will I ever learn to love the girl in the mirror as much as I love the ones sitting across from me? Will I ever look at the girl in the mirror and say as I did to another mom today, "Wow, you are so gorgeous!" ? Will my ideal weight ever be enough for me? "Fat talk" is pissing me off. If someone is healthy and yet super concerned about those last couple of pounds, it says to me that those pounds really matter. It says that I am right to continue to worry about mine. It says my waist size matters more than living healthy does. It says the scale matters more than being really alive for myself and for my family. It confirms that beauty is only skin deep and I should fight just as hard as the others to firmly grasp fleeting beauty.
Ladies, love yourself. Love who God made you to be. Love that we are all different shapes, sizes and colors. Love that some are tall and some are short. Love that some are thin and some are large. Love the small chests and the big chests, the large booties and the nearly non-existent ones. Love the purple hair and the natural hair. Love the diversity and strength and grace and dignity and beauty that each of us brings to the world. For heaven's sake, stop obsessing over yourself, you only encourage me to obsess as well. Obsessing over numbers, when skipping meals actually feels good, is highly detrimental to my health!
You are beautiful, extra 10, 20 50, 100 pounds and all. You are beautiful over 6 foot tall and under 5 foot tall! You are beautiful with or without makeup. You are beautiful in sweat pants and a pony tail. You are beautiful exactly how God made you. And so am I. Now let's go together on this challenge to love the bodies God gave us and stop fretting over ridiculous and unreachable standards.
I know it sounds difficult to hear from me that you should love and accept yourself in every stage, size and style of life when I oh so often don't give that to myself. But here is the deal, when you stop freaking out about your weight, hair color, boob size, face shape, makeup and everything else that isn't your real beauty, you give me permission to do the same. When you stop panicking about the calories you consume, the jeans you put on and how you look in this year's swimsuit, you give me permission to try to learn to accept my body too.
Yeah, I'm like most women. I detest my body in a swimsuit, despise the way I look without my push up bra and cute butt jeans, and fret over every hair, every dimple, and every blemish. (Sound familiar? I know you do it too!) And yeah I have added elements to my body image issues and struggles, but that said, they aren't really that different. If you are free to love you, you give me permission to love me. I may not take it, I may still beat myself up. I will still probably worry about every detail of beauty. BUT I will compare myself with me instead of trying to live up to your beauty.
Today I wish you, light for the journey, help for your burdens, peace for your soul and beauty for every part of you! Today I pray that we both will see the inherent beauty that God created in us when He knit us together in our mother's wombs. Today I'm going to allow God to show me that beauty in me because I already see it in you!
I ate breakfast at MOPS, or at least I thought I did. Someone commented on how I didn't have much to eat. Here I was proud for the array of foods I did try but it was pointed out to me that I didn't really eat as much as I thought I did. I'm finding myself getting really pissed off at "fat talk" lately. I'm tired of hearing beautiful women talk about needing to loose that extra 5 or 10 pounds. Don't they know that their perfection and dissatisfaction only fuel my own obsession? Of course they don't, they don't even know I struggle.
I want to ring the necks of the new moms complaining about the baby weight when their babies are still newborns. I want to shake them and tell them how beautiful they are. I told a friend with a newborn just last week that her body had sustained life within itself and should be celebrated for the miracle it is rather than demeaned for what it just did in carrying and birthing and caring for that new life.
Why do 5 or 10 pounds really matter to us? Would those same women be happy with their bodies if the did lose those last few pounds? I doubt it. I know I wasn't. So you lose the pounds and become your "ideal" weight, then what happens? You find something else to nitpick your body about. Trust me, I know! For those of us with disordered eating, the ideal weight may be reached but then it becomes a few pounds lighter and then a few more pounds lighter and before you know it, your ideal weight is unhealthily low.
When will we, especially as women, learn that our bodies are amazing and capable? Our bodies are beautiful and intricate. Our bodies are gifts and and temples. Our bodies are wonderfully made. I see it in you. I see beauty and strength you never knew existed. I see fierce determination. I see (as Steven Curtis Chapman says) the fingerprints of God when I look at you. You're a masterpiece. Now if I could only look in the mirror and see that same beauty and perfection!
Will I ever learn to love the girl in the mirror as much as I love the ones sitting across from me? Will I ever look at the girl in the mirror and say as I did to another mom today, "Wow, you are so gorgeous!" ? Will my ideal weight ever be enough for me? "Fat talk" is pissing me off. If someone is healthy and yet super concerned about those last couple of pounds, it says to me that those pounds really matter. It says that I am right to continue to worry about mine. It says my waist size matters more than living healthy does. It says the scale matters more than being really alive for myself and for my family. It confirms that beauty is only skin deep and I should fight just as hard as the others to firmly grasp fleeting beauty.
Ladies, love yourself. Love who God made you to be. Love that we are all different shapes, sizes and colors. Love that some are tall and some are short. Love that some are thin and some are large. Love the small chests and the big chests, the large booties and the nearly non-existent ones. Love the purple hair and the natural hair. Love the diversity and strength and grace and dignity and beauty that each of us brings to the world. For heaven's sake, stop obsessing over yourself, you only encourage me to obsess as well. Obsessing over numbers, when skipping meals actually feels good, is highly detrimental to my health!
You are beautiful, extra 10, 20 50, 100 pounds and all. You are beautiful over 6 foot tall and under 5 foot tall! You are beautiful with or without makeup. You are beautiful in sweat pants and a pony tail. You are beautiful exactly how God made you. And so am I. Now let's go together on this challenge to love the bodies God gave us and stop fretting over ridiculous and unreachable standards.
I know it sounds difficult to hear from me that you should love and accept yourself in every stage, size and style of life when I oh so often don't give that to myself. But here is the deal, when you stop freaking out about your weight, hair color, boob size, face shape, makeup and everything else that isn't your real beauty, you give me permission to do the same. When you stop panicking about the calories you consume, the jeans you put on and how you look in this year's swimsuit, you give me permission to try to learn to accept my body too.
Yeah, I'm like most women. I detest my body in a swimsuit, despise the way I look without my push up bra and cute butt jeans, and fret over every hair, every dimple, and every blemish. (Sound familiar? I know you do it too!) And yeah I have added elements to my body image issues and struggles, but that said, they aren't really that different. If you are free to love you, you give me permission to love me. I may not take it, I may still beat myself up. I will still probably worry about every detail of beauty. BUT I will compare myself with me instead of trying to live up to your beauty.
Today I wish you, light for the journey, help for your burdens, peace for your soul and beauty for every part of you! Today I pray that we both will see the inherent beauty that God created in us when He knit us together in our mother's wombs. Today I'm going to allow God to show me that beauty in me because I already see it in you!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
dot to dot pictures
If only you could actually hear the big sigh that I just let out. I had another "aha" moment today. I connected the dots again to find I'm not crazy about the picture they draw. BUT at least I know what the picture is and can finally work with it. So if you have followed me from the beginning, you know that my struggle began when I was 14. At that point in time it was a body image, want to be what someone else wants me to be, supreme insecurity issue. I was 17 when things got really bad. There was something significant going on in my life then, something that triggered me. I was being sexually molested by my boss at work. He would follow me into the freezer and talk dirty and fondle me. He was disgusting but because he was my boss I didn't know how to make it stop and I was scared. The only way out that I could see was to leave my job and I did.
I know I have shared some of this in an early blog but for the sake of new readers, I'm going to condense it and tell it again. The day I came in to pick up my last check, this manager was there. He followed me out to the parking lot and started making lewd comments. I kept walking. He forced me to turn around, violently kissed me and then slammed me against the car. As my mind was racing looking for a way out, he started to grope me again. When I started to cry, he informed me that I shouldn't be crying because I obviously liked his attention because my body physically responded to him. I was so incredibly furious with my body and felt like it had betrayed me. How could my mind so forcefully reject what he was doing but my body still react to his touch? I was disgusted with my own body.
Now fast forward a bunch of years later to me as a grown woman sitting in a mental hospital. While in the hospital, I was required to speak with a therapist. The therapist who I happened to be paired with was a very right vs. wrong, abrupt, older man. He was actually quite a jerk, to be honest. I answered his questions. I told him my history. I told him about this situation. And being a dumbass, he asked me what I meant by my body responded. Really? He's older, he wore a wedding ring, and yet doesn't know in what ways a woman's body could respond to a man's touch??????? So in my most annoyed and sarcastic tone, I bluntly looked at him and crudely informed him of what had happened. The response infuriated me. He informed me that I should not have felt guilty for that response. It is an "autonomic response" that I had no control over so therefore I should not feel shame or guilt for having such a response. What kind of therapist tells their patient that their feelings weren't valid? Who tells you how you should feel?
Ok, another rabbit trail to lead to my "aha moment". About a year ago, I realized (rather suddenly and surprisingly) that I had allowed some of my intimate moments with my husband to be highly influenced by this intense need to be in control of my body. So, at that point I wasn't acting out with my eating disorder but I was still acting out and needing an obsessive amount of control over my own body.
Today I saw my chiropractor. He does acupuncture as well as adjustments. When he was about to start the acupuncture, I asked him if his little magic needles could cure anything. I asked if there were points that would stimulate appetite. He originally said he would do a few to help with food cravings. No, no, no, I don't need to get rid of cravings, I need to gain a few! He told me that was quite a bit more difficult because the body's automatic response is to desire food especially when under stress. It is what my body should naturally do for itself.
Have you connected the dots? All three of those stories have to do with automatic physical responses. I was so traumatized by my body responding against my will all those years ago that I have fought it since to maintain a high level of control that my body "cannot" (be allowed to) have an automatic/autonomic response. If my body acts on its own, I lose control and it could hurt me again. I fight tooth and nail against anything my body may want to do that doesn't first have my permission. Being hungry is just one more thing that I don't allow until it is on my terms. Somewhere deep inside I think I am wondering, "But what happens if my body betrays me again?"
I know I have shared some of this in an early blog but for the sake of new readers, I'm going to condense it and tell it again. The day I came in to pick up my last check, this manager was there. He followed me out to the parking lot and started making lewd comments. I kept walking. He forced me to turn around, violently kissed me and then slammed me against the car. As my mind was racing looking for a way out, he started to grope me again. When I started to cry, he informed me that I shouldn't be crying because I obviously liked his attention because my body physically responded to him. I was so incredibly furious with my body and felt like it had betrayed me. How could my mind so forcefully reject what he was doing but my body still react to his touch? I was disgusted with my own body.
Now fast forward a bunch of years later to me as a grown woman sitting in a mental hospital. While in the hospital, I was required to speak with a therapist. The therapist who I happened to be paired with was a very right vs. wrong, abrupt, older man. He was actually quite a jerk, to be honest. I answered his questions. I told him my history. I told him about this situation. And being a dumbass, he asked me what I meant by my body responded. Really? He's older, he wore a wedding ring, and yet doesn't know in what ways a woman's body could respond to a man's touch??????? So in my most annoyed and sarcastic tone, I bluntly looked at him and crudely informed him of what had happened. The response infuriated me. He informed me that I should not have felt guilty for that response. It is an "autonomic response" that I had no control over so therefore I should not feel shame or guilt for having such a response. What kind of therapist tells their patient that their feelings weren't valid? Who tells you how you should feel?
Ok, another rabbit trail to lead to my "aha moment". About a year ago, I realized (rather suddenly and surprisingly) that I had allowed some of my intimate moments with my husband to be highly influenced by this intense need to be in control of my body. So, at that point I wasn't acting out with my eating disorder but I was still acting out and needing an obsessive amount of control over my own body.
Today I saw my chiropractor. He does acupuncture as well as adjustments. When he was about to start the acupuncture, I asked him if his little magic needles could cure anything. I asked if there were points that would stimulate appetite. He originally said he would do a few to help with food cravings. No, no, no, I don't need to get rid of cravings, I need to gain a few! He told me that was quite a bit more difficult because the body's automatic response is to desire food especially when under stress. It is what my body should naturally do for itself.
Have you connected the dots? All three of those stories have to do with automatic physical responses. I was so traumatized by my body responding against my will all those years ago that I have fought it since to maintain a high level of control that my body "cannot" (be allowed to) have an automatic/autonomic response. If my body acts on its own, I lose control and it could hurt me again. I fight tooth and nail against anything my body may want to do that doesn't first have my permission. Being hungry is just one more thing that I don't allow until it is on my terms. Somewhere deep inside I think I am wondering, "But what happens if my body betrays me again?"
Thursday, May 6, 2010
guilt
I'm not sure how or when it happened, but slowly I began to un-numb enough to be part of the life going on around me. I don't remember when I started eating but I do remember when I started feeling guilty about eating. I think I may have passed out and that was what made me realize I couldn't always starve myself. The problem was that by this point, every single time that I ate ANYTHING I felt unexpressably guilty. How do you cope with food guilt and the, mild though it was, desire to eat again?????? I answered my guilt in an equally unhealthy way. I started taking diet pills to speed up my metabolism anytime I had to eat. I thought I had found the perfect answer. I could eat on occasion and still not feel guilty about the food I had eaten.
The problem with this was, I was wondering if the pills were really working or just a placebo so I stepped on the scale. It was actually the first time since I had been so sick at the very beginning that I ever got on a scale. We never had a scale in my parents house so I didn't bother with a number so much but rather a size. Suddenly I had access to a scale 4 times a week and became obsessed with the numbers on that scale. Suddenly it was a specific number that had become my goal.
* I once heard Tracy Gold do an interview about her eating disorder and she said that she never talked about numbers because it is a challenge to those still struggling to be even thinner than that person's numbers. I am grateful for her wisdom and insight because she is absolutely right. I know, I was in the midst of my own severe battle when I heard her say that. To pay forward the same respect to others who still struggle, I will never talk about my personal numbers in either my weight or my own perceived perfect number.*
The guilt I felt was increasing rapidly. Originally the pills shut up the guilt, but like anything that you use to cover up an emotion, it eventually takes more and more and more to do the job that you need. That is how drinkers become alcoholics, drug users become addicts and little anorexic girls find new ways to starve their bodies.
The problem with this was, I was wondering if the pills were really working or just a placebo so I stepped on the scale. It was actually the first time since I had been so sick at the very beginning that I ever got on a scale. We never had a scale in my parents house so I didn't bother with a number so much but rather a size. Suddenly I had access to a scale 4 times a week and became obsessed with the numbers on that scale. Suddenly it was a specific number that had become my goal.
* I once heard Tracy Gold do an interview about her eating disorder and she said that she never talked about numbers because it is a challenge to those still struggling to be even thinner than that person's numbers. I am grateful for her wisdom and insight because she is absolutely right. I know, I was in the midst of my own severe battle when I heard her say that. To pay forward the same respect to others who still struggle, I will never talk about my personal numbers in either my weight or my own perceived perfect number.*
The guilt I felt was increasing rapidly. Originally the pills shut up the guilt, but like anything that you use to cover up an emotion, it eventually takes more and more and more to do the job that you need. That is how drinkers become alcoholics, drug users become addicts and little anorexic girls find new ways to starve their bodies.
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