In a World Full of Princes, Freedom is a Kiss

I notice that many women diet in order to attract mates of whatever sex they’d prefer to attract mates from. My eating disorder may have stemmed from such a mindset, but right now that isn’t the case. Not at all.

I look back often at how before high school ended, I’d eat, and eat, and gain and gain, and I had no issues with it. Then, Halfway through college, my entire mindset changed, and I owe it all to a boy named Alex.

Alex was handsome enough, and I was mad for him. He was artistic, confident, tall, dark, and had beautiful eyes. All of my friends warned me to get over him: he was a drunk, womanizing asshat. Even the guys I was on speaking terms with would take my side and tell me to get out of that crush before it was too late. For indeed, he was a royal asshat, and still is to this day, I believe. But it was when I realized Alex would never give me a second look because of my looks that I decided that I could, in fact, stand to lose a few pounds.

I feel like blaming Alex for my eating disorder is giving him way more credit than he deserves. He deserves as much credit for anything as a convicted bank robber with a credit score of 4. But this was definitely one of the final nails in the coffin.

But since going from a 16 to a 10-12, not only have I gone through guys with relative ease, but I’ve noticed so many stares coming from the opposite sex (which is as much a curse as it can be flattering). From the young Filipino making sushi every morning at Wegmans to Random Guy Who Thinks Motorcycles Are Still Cool #8, I don’t lack in male attention anymore. Half of these men would probably tell Alex he’s a world-class idiot for passing me up.

Great, now I sound like a conceitied bitch.

But I digress, the point is I’m only getting the attention now because I’m not a 16 anymore. But being a 10-12 isn’t enough for me anymore. Hello, EDNOS.

I have a boyfriend, whom I love more than life itself. He finds me beautiful. He can’t get me in bed enough, it seems (god he’d be embarrassed if he read this). I must confess, I want to marry the man someday. He feels the same, though due to both of out financial situations, engagement is at least a year off (which suits us both just find, I think). His kisses are the only thing in this world that make me feel sexy.

I find that to be so sad, though. I should feel sexy on my own terms, not someone else (especially man) initiating some act that makes me forget my love handles. I am such a hypocrite.

And with that, I’m going to have to cut this entry off, I need to get back to work.

Setbacks A-Plenty

I binged again last night. At least I think I did. At least a bowl of sliced watermelon, two peaches, and a granola bar with peanut butter (the label saying each bar was a staggering 170 calories). Eating, eating like I have no control and I must do it as regularily as I breathe.

I also skipped the gym last night. I’m lazy for sure. I work eight and a half hours a day (possibly more if I get a second job like I fully intend to), I just wanted to go home last night, AIM my beloved, supportive boyfriend, and take a gander at my new pile of prizes (five library books that came in over the weekend as well as Amelie and As You Like It to watch while I paint this weekend).

I feel like I’m confessing to a priest my many sins. I need to own up to my mistakes and suitably punish myself for them. I’m definitley not skipping the gym tonight. I’m only eating a sandwich for lunch (egg salad on wheat bread…even with fat-free mayo it’s still a whole meal’s worth of calories at 210). If I renig on any of these self-induced punishments I’m going to have to do myself one worse. Like skip breakfast entirely on Saturday or work out double-time instead of going to the park. I’m already undergoing a long-term punishment by sucking back black coffee every morning before work. Black coffee is horrid, but it’s zero calories and speeds up my metabolism.

Wait, perhaps I can go to the park but put my car in the lot near the dog park and jog along the lake…

I guess when you think about it, the analogy with the priest is accurate. I’m a sinner. I sin against my ugly, fat body. Some people view their body as a temple. If that’s true, whatever god my temple is dedicated to is a hopeless, weak little demigod who lost some battle eons ago, and now his shrine is in ruins.

Alas, I cannot fast. Why? because like my demigod, I’m also weak.

I estimate this past week I’ve consumed an average of 1,500 calories per day. Deplorable. I’m not supposed to have more than 1,200. Even then, 1,200 seems like an awfully high number, especially considering my lack of weight loss as of late even when adhereing to said limit.

What is a fat woman to do, honestly? Every day it seems I’m tempted, whether it’s by the candy dishes on my co-workers’ desks, the box of doughnuts the boss brings in once every so often (those evil chocolate sprinkles!), or the fact that the diner across the street makes food that is both highly affordable and delicious. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. It seems as if lately it’s been more losing than winning.

And why does it feel like I’m talking in circles? Maybe I just need to get back to work and do something productive for a change.

It’s Back…

I’m sitting here at my desk at work, and it’s still all I can think about. That danish I had for my co-worker’s birthday won’t leave my thoughts. I had chickpeas on my salad at lunch…are those high in fat? Quickly, and making sure no one sees me whip out the cell phone (it is a sin at work to use one’s phone, even if it is for an alternate purpose), I look up and calculate how many calories I’ve eaten so far today.

Approximatley 757.

Shit.

After shivering in disgust (and from the wafts of air-conditioned wind that blast right over my head through the vents) I go through my head how much I can burn off at the gym tonight without passing out (around 400 if I’m up to it). I remind myself I’m not allowed to exceed about 1200 calories a day, so 757 leaves little room for dinner, especially in a house that wouldn’t care about caloric calculations if it meant the end of time.

Numbers keep whizzing through my skull. Then it strikes me: my worst fears might be realized. I might be bingeing again like in high school. I’m in danger of shooting up past 170, 180, 200, 220 again…oh god no! Anything but that!

I wish to myself that I had the stamina to vomit. I still have time to at least get the salad up and out, bringing the count down to maybe about 400. But alas, I have not the iron gut required. After a moment of thought, the mere fact I considered vomiting lunch brings shame. I knew better than that, surely.

Then echoes of last night fill my head. I skipped the gym because work tired me out. I not only ate THREE meatballs on top of my spaghetti, I ate a chocolate cupcake, double extra frosting! THEN I had rice cakes AND strawberries for a snack…for shame! For shame! The idea that IT might be coming back is enought to make the headache from my decorative haircomb worse.

There’s a reason I’m not losing anymore. Why my weight loss came to a screeching halt at 165lbs. I’m beginning to binge again. A cupcake or a raspberry danish now may not seem so malevolent. But that’s how it all started last time, too. A simple walk to the candy machine across the road at the local high school for a bag of Skittles turned into whole tins of honey-roasted peanuts, three boxes of Gushers, five candy bars and still room for double-portions at dinner before I knew what was happening. It could be happening again. The reason I came home from college freshman year as a 227-pounder in an oversized t-shirt.

I take a deep breath and settle back in my awesome spinny-chair. It’s calming when I assure myself I can burn 400 calories at the gym tonight and be fine. I’m a tough girl, I can do it.

I can do anything!

Mission Statement (Sort Of)

I’m starting this blog for myself. No one else.

I frankly don’t care if this blog get one hit or eighty-trillion (though that seems unlikely). I can’t afford to go to real therapy, so here’s what’s going to have to do. I’m sure it will help to some extent, but if nothing else, maybe I’ll read these words later and finally wise up.

I’m coming out, and you probably guessed already what my problem is: an eating disorder.

More specifically: ED-NOS, which stands for Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. It’s where everyone who weighs too much to be given an anorexia diagnosis or doesn’t go through the binge-purge cycle enough times per week gets dumped. It’s in the realm of serious, but not serious enough for the insurance guys, but that’s not the point of this blog.

The point is for me to come out…fully. I’ve never done that before, not even to my family. My family saw one side of my story when they discovered last summer I wasn’t eating at all if I could help it. But, again, that isn’t everything.

I binged in high school and the first half of college. Then, I did a complete 180 and didn’t eat period. My weight soared, then sank. I was never underweight, and even now at my lightest I’ve been since puberty I’m not of a ‘normal  weight’ according to the BMI (though I’m close). Even though I consider myself ‘improved’ from before, I still know in my head I’m antagonizing food as much as I ever did. I know it needs to stop but I don’t know how.

So, I’m taking the words of the exquisite Sun Tzu to heart: “The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.” That first step is this post.

Well, here it goes, I guess.