It's National Eating Disorder Awareness Week.
In honor of such an occasion and in the spirit of awareness, I thought I would make you aware of mine.
My name is Amy Caroline Exum, and I have a food addiction.
Before you roll your eyes and chuckle dismissively, just hear me out.
I know, when you first think of an eating disorder, your mind leaps right to anorexia or bulimia. And yes, those are very serious and life-threatening eating disorders. But, what if you have it in reverse. I tried the whole 'not eating' for about a day and I became so light-headed and disoriented, I had to make up for it by eating enough for a football team. I am not a fan of throwing up, so that was out of the question. So, when I binge eat, I just hang on to it. I've been doing this for as long as I can remember. I've always had what people used to refer to as a 'healthy appetite'. Meaning, I can pack away a serious amount of feed. I remember when I was maybe 6 or 7, my mom and I attended a function at the local church where they were serving hoagies. While my smaller friend had a much daintier portion. ''You're eating a whole hoagie!'' she marvelled, loudly so that other kids wandering around could hear. Not that that had been her intention, but it did pique the interest of some passer bys. They all gathered around as if I were a circus freak attraction. Humiliation was making it hard to swallow or maybe it was because I was used to taking ravenously large bites like a hungry giant. Either way, I had to cram my enormous hoagie to an audience of slack-jawed kids who didn't eat like they were storing for a long period of hibernation. This was the first time it might have dawned on me my eating habits were not normal or healthy. My mom would fret over how much weight I had gained, yet still make me French toast when I wanted. But, it was that very hoagie incident that made me start hiding just how much I ate.
I became a pro at deceptive eating. As a young child, I would strike in the cover of night. Raiding the fridge and cupboards for whatever could be quickly shoved in my greedy mouth. I worked hard on planning my attacks. I would leave stuff where I would easily be able to access it later. Of course, there was always the issue of food being missing and when my parents would come to me for questioning, I would always deny any knowledge of what happened to half that apple pie, or the entire box of cookies, or the bag of chips, etc. How could they prove it. The evidence was in my belly. Of course, the only other suspect was my two year old brother, and he could barely hold a spoon on his own, much less steal food, leaving no mess or crumbs. I was without conviction, but I wasn't without shame.
And that is why I am currently obese. I don't want to be obese. I want to want to be thin more than I want to satisfy the scream of insatiable addiction. And it is officially recognized as an addiction. Studies have shown, for some, the reward and pleasure centers in the brain, that are usually activated by addictive drugs, like cocaine, alcohol and heroin, can also be triggered by food. Food eases my stress. Food eases my depression. Food gives me comfort. Or so the addiction would have me believe. And it's not the good for you foods that cause this magical pleasure center reaction in the brain. No, it's the demon food. The sugars and the fats and the salts and the starches. It's not that I don't enjoy fruit and veggies. I do! Why, just the other night, I had a salad, and boy was it yummy! But, they don't satisfy the beast inside. Not even close. I had a psychiatrist recently tell me, who I'd gone to for help to overcome the addiction, I was just making excuses and needed to simply make healthier choices when eating. Like it's just that fucking easy. Oh right, because I wasn't already aware of that myself. You wouldn't tell an alcoholic to just stop drinking. ''Hey, you, heroin addict. Just stop. Quit it. Be done.'' Needles to say, I never saw her again.
Food gives me a thrill I get from nothing else. That's not entirely true. When I've given up food, and been successful in actually losing weight and maintained a healthy lifestyle, I've merely replaced it with another addiction. Alcohol, drugs, shopping, sex. I never get addicted to anything helpful. And my behaivor becomes more erratic. My moods swings out of control. Staying clean is always just so much work, because I'm constantly battling. I always end up going back. Every time it's worse. And harder to pull away.
When I binge, I go into, what I can only describe as a trance like state. I'm just cramming the food in as fast as I can chew and swallow and get my mouth open wide enough for the next bite. And while it's happening is great. The taste, the reassurance I am no longer depriving myself of what I want. Such a fucking relief. And then, the shame and embarrassment. But, that's OK, because you can always just eat more and make those feelings go away.
Food has destroyed me. I am so big now, I have trouble walking because my body is starting to buckle under the pressure. I am ridiculed every time I leave my house. And I get it. I am quite a site. I'm constantly in people's way. They look at me with disgust. To them, I'm a fat slob who doesn't take care of herself. And they would be right. It's the same when you see a drunk passed out in the gutter. Because it's the same. It's someone who has completely lost control of their lives. If you can even call it having a life. My biggest fear is that I will become one of those people you have to remove from their house with a crane. It's my biggest fear and yet I don't know how to keep from hurtling toward it.
I'm not proud of what I've become. And this isn't about whether or not I have a positive body image. If you're not stick thin and you have some junk in the trunk, be proud of that. Sure, why not. People come in all shapes and sizes, but when you start crossing over from chubby to no normal set of scales can weigh you, there is a problem. The first step is admitting that.
I've been to the doctor, in hopes of getting some kind of medical assistance. I've been put on some kind of weight loss tablets and we're going to see how that goes for three months. I'm going to make myself out a diet plan and try to stick with it. The real kick in the teeth, was he'd done loads of blood work. All normal. Cholesterol is fine. Thyroid functioning normally as are my kidneys, and I am not diabetic. Good news, but I explained to the doctor, I almost wanted something to be wrong. A sense of urgency. Because if I don't have a hard and fast reason, I'm afraid I'll never be able to do it. Am I past the point of no return? Just how far do I have to go before I've pushed my body too far? I don't want to know.
I'm not telling you this so you will feel sorry for me. This is my cross to bear. I just wanted you to hear my side of the story.
Monday, 24 February 2014
Monday, 10 February 2014
The danger of a good kiss
I used to be famous for my crushes. They were not notable for who I had the crush on, but the gusto with which I pursued them. And they came out of nowhere, like a supernova. Sometimes, all it could take was a look, a clever joke, a small act of kindness and my entire focus became all about making this person mine. With the passion and tenacity of a marathon runner, I charged toward the, sometimes unknowing, victim. I bored friends and family with long conversations about them, pouring over every detail, no matter how insignificant. Combing through every piece of evidence, parsing for subtext, as to whether they may or may not, possibly have the same feelings for me.
Nine times out of ten, they didn't. And most stopped short of getting a restraining order against me. I truly feel sorry for anyone who ever had the misfortune of being the object of my desire. But, what can I say, I was boy crazy. And John Hughes made being young and in love seem so appealing, and I just wanted to know that feeling. The closeness of another human being. Someone you could share your mundane life with. I put everything into finding that feeling. And when I did find it, oh, it was glorious.
You always remember your first kiss. Mine was a boy called Shawn when I was 14. He was my best friend at the time, and one of the few boys for which my feelings remained pretty much neutral. Not that he wasn't cute, just didn't as my grandmother would say, ''didn't trip my trigger''. And that was fine, and for the best seeing as how we worked very well just being pals.
It was during the summer, and we'd been hanging out by my pool, when he suddenly leaned over and started to kiss me. After my immediate, startled reaction, I decided to just go with it. I remember feeling the water from our wet hair sliding down our faces as our lips and tongues clumsily tried to find a place that didn't feel awkward. We pulled away, both quickly looking away from each other and into the water where our legs looked like they were dancing with the waves. This caused me to giggle and just as I was about to share this with Shawn, he rapidly removed himself from the water mutter, ''Uh, I've gotta get home.'' I got up to follow and hand him a towel, but he beat me to it. I stopped and watched him leave the gated pool area and head toward the house. He turned to wave before he entered the sliding glass door. My heart felt as if it had enlarged four times it's size. All of the sudden this boy I had next to no romantic feelings for, became my first crush victim. I had had crushes before, but those were mostly unattainable like celebrities, but this was real. And he had kissed ME! He must have loved me too. I became wrapped in this bubble of bliss like I had never known. I was smiling brighter, it was like when Dorothy came to Oz and everything was in Technicolor. I thought of nothing but Shawn and that kiss. I wondered when it would happen again, and did this mean we were officially a couple? I tried to call him later that night to ask him those very questions. But, I got his machine. He was one of those lucky kids who got their own phone line, so I could only trust his machine had recorded all the messages I left. I wouldn't know, he never called back. When I saw him a couple of weeks later at a friend's birthday party, he made no mention of it, and to my surprise, now had a girlfriend. He was holding hands with this girl named Robin, who had big crimped hair pulled back into a banana clip and a dark blue suede fringe jacket and her Converse weren't fake. Mine were. And my hair was a mess of frizz no hair product could tame. And she was thin. Her stretch pants actually had some give, where as the seams of mine were hanging on for dear life. I was the underdog, but this time, I wasn't going to win.
I never did find out why Shawn kissed me that late summer day. He and I did finally start hanging out again, but it was never quite the same. I still had lingering feelings which caused things to be strained and I was 14 and had no idea how to process all that. And that was my first kiss, but it's obviously not the best kiss. That would go to a guy called Chris.
Many years and crushes later, I became fixated on a guy called Chris. And boy did he put up a fight. He did not want to be in a relationship with me, but being 19 and completely irrational, I had no intention of taking no for an answer. He'd made it very clear that he only wanted to be friends, and I acknowledged his request without having any intention of honoring it. I figured I would just bide my time, and he would come around. This was not based on past experience. I was usually on the sad end of unrequited crushes. My past is lousy boys and men I have pursued. But, something about Chris made me think there might be something there. This time, I was right.
We had been out on what he'd repeatedly stressed was, ''not a date'', to see a friend's band play. I obliged, even not flipping out when I saw him so obviously flirting with another girl. I just had a silent come apart on the inside. He was having a hell of a time. Dancing and singing and chatting with damn near everyone at the bar. This was unusual, as Chris was normally a very reserved person, but after several shots and about five beers, he was the life of the party. He'd made me promise to make him leave at a decent time, as he had to get up early, so about ten I tried to pull him away from the best night of his life. He begged like a stubborn child which I found amusing, endearing, and completely annoying all at the same time. ''Just one more song.'' he pleaded, hands together as if he were praying I would relent. It took me pulling the whole, ''Fine, I'll leave you hear.'' threat, three times, before he finally agreed to follow me out the door.
Once we made it into brisk, winter, night air he was talking loudly, partly from temporary loss of hearing due to the very loud music and also because very drunk and unaware of volume controls. I kept trying to ''Shush'' him, which for some reason he took as a front and got defensive like he had a right to say whatever the hell he wanted and the world was just gonna have to listen, thank you very much. He was becoming less attractive as I had to lift his legs into the car and buckle him in. The ride to his place was thankfully short as he'd begun running his hands through my hair and twirling the curls. This was very distracting as my body was responding favorably and making it very hard to fight the urge to pull the car over and have my way with him. We made it to his place, and I pulled the car into place, leaned over to unbuckle him when he grabbed my face with both hands and started kissing me. And this wasn't just a ''Hey, let's try it out and see what happens.'' this was a full on, entire body is in on it, kiss. I felt my entire body ignite. Everything in me was screaming, ''YES!! Finally!! I knew it would happen!!'' His hands were running through my hair, to my shoulders to my breast, to my stomach, to my thighs. My hands were also doing their part to explore his body as well. It felt like the Earth was actually moving. Wait...
Now, let me explain, the parking lot for Chris's apartments, were on a very large hill, behind the apartment building. Now this parking lot had a ledge that went down to the ground floor apartments. Which, luckily for them, was right before I'd realized the car had in fact, been moving. No our love was not strong enough to move mountains. I slammed on the breaks and threw the car in park. What I should have done in the first place. I remember parking, and my foot was still on the break, but when he kissed me, all reason went out the window. I didn't want to put the car in park, because that would have taken my hands off his chest, and taken us out of the moment, and I did not want to risk him stopping. Then, I got way too into it, and forgot to keep my foot on the break. Our little brush with maybe death, but if not then definitely severe property damage, kind of killed the moment. And that was that. He got out of the car, came over to my side to say goodnight, and threw up all over the drivers side door.
I wanna say I didn't date that guy for over a year, but I did. It wasn't so bad. He wasn't a bad guy. We just weren't for each other. I should have listened to him in the first place. But, it started out with a great kiss.
Nine times out of ten, they didn't. And most stopped short of getting a restraining order against me. I truly feel sorry for anyone who ever had the misfortune of being the object of my desire. But, what can I say, I was boy crazy. And John Hughes made being young and in love seem so appealing, and I just wanted to know that feeling. The closeness of another human being. Someone you could share your mundane life with. I put everything into finding that feeling. And when I did find it, oh, it was glorious.
You always remember your first kiss. Mine was a boy called Shawn when I was 14. He was my best friend at the time, and one of the few boys for which my feelings remained pretty much neutral. Not that he wasn't cute, just didn't as my grandmother would say, ''didn't trip my trigger''. And that was fine, and for the best seeing as how we worked very well just being pals.
It was during the summer, and we'd been hanging out by my pool, when he suddenly leaned over and started to kiss me. After my immediate, startled reaction, I decided to just go with it. I remember feeling the water from our wet hair sliding down our faces as our lips and tongues clumsily tried to find a place that didn't feel awkward. We pulled away, both quickly looking away from each other and into the water where our legs looked like they were dancing with the waves. This caused me to giggle and just as I was about to share this with Shawn, he rapidly removed himself from the water mutter, ''Uh, I've gotta get home.'' I got up to follow and hand him a towel, but he beat me to it. I stopped and watched him leave the gated pool area and head toward the house. He turned to wave before he entered the sliding glass door. My heart felt as if it had enlarged four times it's size. All of the sudden this boy I had next to no romantic feelings for, became my first crush victim. I had had crushes before, but those were mostly unattainable like celebrities, but this was real. And he had kissed ME! He must have loved me too. I became wrapped in this bubble of bliss like I had never known. I was smiling brighter, it was like when Dorothy came to Oz and everything was in Technicolor. I thought of nothing but Shawn and that kiss. I wondered when it would happen again, and did this mean we were officially a couple? I tried to call him later that night to ask him those very questions. But, I got his machine. He was one of those lucky kids who got their own phone line, so I could only trust his machine had recorded all the messages I left. I wouldn't know, he never called back. When I saw him a couple of weeks later at a friend's birthday party, he made no mention of it, and to my surprise, now had a girlfriend. He was holding hands with this girl named Robin, who had big crimped hair pulled back into a banana clip and a dark blue suede fringe jacket and her Converse weren't fake. Mine were. And my hair was a mess of frizz no hair product could tame. And she was thin. Her stretch pants actually had some give, where as the seams of mine were hanging on for dear life. I was the underdog, but this time, I wasn't going to win.
I never did find out why Shawn kissed me that late summer day. He and I did finally start hanging out again, but it was never quite the same. I still had lingering feelings which caused things to be strained and I was 14 and had no idea how to process all that. And that was my first kiss, but it's obviously not the best kiss. That would go to a guy called Chris.
Many years and crushes later, I became fixated on a guy called Chris. And boy did he put up a fight. He did not want to be in a relationship with me, but being 19 and completely irrational, I had no intention of taking no for an answer. He'd made it very clear that he only wanted to be friends, and I acknowledged his request without having any intention of honoring it. I figured I would just bide my time, and he would come around. This was not based on past experience. I was usually on the sad end of unrequited crushes. My past is lousy boys and men I have pursued. But, something about Chris made me think there might be something there. This time, I was right.
We had been out on what he'd repeatedly stressed was, ''not a date'', to see a friend's band play. I obliged, even not flipping out when I saw him so obviously flirting with another girl. I just had a silent come apart on the inside. He was having a hell of a time. Dancing and singing and chatting with damn near everyone at the bar. This was unusual, as Chris was normally a very reserved person, but after several shots and about five beers, he was the life of the party. He'd made me promise to make him leave at a decent time, as he had to get up early, so about ten I tried to pull him away from the best night of his life. He begged like a stubborn child which I found amusing, endearing, and completely annoying all at the same time. ''Just one more song.'' he pleaded, hands together as if he were praying I would relent. It took me pulling the whole, ''Fine, I'll leave you hear.'' threat, three times, before he finally agreed to follow me out the door.
Once we made it into brisk, winter, night air he was talking loudly, partly from temporary loss of hearing due to the very loud music and also because very drunk and unaware of volume controls. I kept trying to ''Shush'' him, which for some reason he took as a front and got defensive like he had a right to say whatever the hell he wanted and the world was just gonna have to listen, thank you very much. He was becoming less attractive as I had to lift his legs into the car and buckle him in. The ride to his place was thankfully short as he'd begun running his hands through my hair and twirling the curls. This was very distracting as my body was responding favorably and making it very hard to fight the urge to pull the car over and have my way with him. We made it to his place, and I pulled the car into place, leaned over to unbuckle him when he grabbed my face with both hands and started kissing me. And this wasn't just a ''Hey, let's try it out and see what happens.'' this was a full on, entire body is in on it, kiss. I felt my entire body ignite. Everything in me was screaming, ''YES!! Finally!! I knew it would happen!!'' His hands were running through my hair, to my shoulders to my breast, to my stomach, to my thighs. My hands were also doing their part to explore his body as well. It felt like the Earth was actually moving. Wait...
Now, let me explain, the parking lot for Chris's apartments, were on a very large hill, behind the apartment building. Now this parking lot had a ledge that went down to the ground floor apartments. Which, luckily for them, was right before I'd realized the car had in fact, been moving. No our love was not strong enough to move mountains. I slammed on the breaks and threw the car in park. What I should have done in the first place. I remember parking, and my foot was still on the break, but when he kissed me, all reason went out the window. I didn't want to put the car in park, because that would have taken my hands off his chest, and taken us out of the moment, and I did not want to risk him stopping. Then, I got way too into it, and forgot to keep my foot on the break. Our little brush with maybe death, but if not then definitely severe property damage, kind of killed the moment. And that was that. He got out of the car, came over to my side to say goodnight, and threw up all over the drivers side door.
I wanna say I didn't date that guy for over a year, but I did. It wasn't so bad. He wasn't a bad guy. We just weren't for each other. I should have listened to him in the first place. But, it started out with a great kiss.
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