It starts the way you imagine or hope it will: a few curious kisses at first, a questioning caress and a look that speaks loudly in the still, summer night. I am abandoning the way I would be and melting into him instead; liquid limbs and giddiness. My heart accelerates and the anxiety begins to envelope me. Where does it end and he begin? I am suffocating as he wraps his arms around me. I am drowning in the darkness he does not know is there.
His hands roam and I shudder not in the sensual way he imagines. He will soon find the me I despise; a body too big trying to hide itself in plain sight. He pulls at my clothing which is reluctant to leave me exposed. I squirm as the truth of me is laid ugly and bare. His fingers find the curves of my ever widening hips and I will them not to reach to my gargantuan thighs. He sighs and looks into my eyes. I am looking back but I see heaviness not heaven. He says I feel amazing and, and, and…The description, adjectives so wrong, run on and on. A contrary list rebuffs him in my mind. I cannot voice what he will not acknowledge. I envision my fat flesh which is not amazing. Not tonight. Not at all.
I am surrendering to a moment that will always be marred by this nagging thought: how long? How long until he sees me for what I am and despises me? How long before he questions everything I believe to be normal in my disordered life? When will he notice the skipped meals, the purged dinners, the ribs that are desperately trying to peek through my layers of lard? When will he rail against the demons that hold me captive? When will he understand he cannot save me from myself or them or slow starvation? And when he does discover the disappearing me, how long will I have left to retreat from him so that he cannot reach me?
It all ends the same way eventually: alone. It is meant to be.
A nasty reminder that I try my best to ignore.
Originally posted on This sick Foundation:
http://www.mirror-mirror.org/set.htm The article above reminded me of a post of mine Fighting my biology The set point theory makes sense, your body is genetically meant to stay within a certain range. Nowadays when my weight fluctuates (as it always has) if my weight goes below a certain number my body starts to shut down before I used to be able to cope I’d feel horrible but I’d still be active and hell l bent on losing more… doing hundreds of situps etc whereas now if my weight is low I find myself not able to get out of bed because of sheer exhaustion even after sleeping for 12 hours, can hear my heart beating really fast & always on the verge of blacking out.
Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels but when skinny comes with heart palpitations, absent periods, extreme dizziness and moods from hell then skinny doesn’t taste…
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My body fits into his body. Entwined, I curve into his kinks and crevices. Legs raveled together, arms interlocking, torsos tilted inwards. We are pieced together. It is as though I have remembered his arms around me all my life, even before this moment. His hands caress my body; I am transported and repulsed at the same time. I imagine my fat, smooth and sickening beneath his finger tips: my ribs smothered in a layer of it, my waist rolling, my hips heavy with it. I want to lose myself in him but I am lost in my distress. When he kisses me I long to fall into him, safe at last. I leave instead to starve myself so that some day he might love me.
I am a vegan with an eating disorder.
An article on understanding ED. This should be required reading.
5lbs down in 6 days. I have a stomach full of pills and coffee and emptiness. Finally…
After the break down I had at my doctor’s office about my 15lb weight gain, she promised to refer me to a specialist. I explained to her about my vegan/vegetarian diet, exercise, hypothyroidism and eating disordered history. She was adamant that my weight gain and inability to lose weight are not related to hypothyroidism because I am medicated. According to her, that means I am “cured”. When she said that it had to be something that I am eating, I nearly lost my mind and the little sanity I have left. I explained to her about the calories I track every day, all the time I spend in the gym and I told her that given 21 years of having an eating disorder, that I know about nutrition and weight loss. In the end she said she would refer me to a specialist to make sure that there wasn’t another medical reason that I was gaining weight and couldn’t lose it.
Today I got a referral in the mail to a nutrition program. Thanks to my doctor, they have enrolled me in a group course called “Secrets To Weight Loss Success”. To say I am mad doesn’t even begin to cover it. Her referral just goes to show how little she cares about me or my health – mental or physical. I could write her a book on nutrition and exercise and I guarantee there is not one thing they could teach me about “balanced meals”, “snacks that cause weight gain” and “keeping weight off successfully with exercise”, that I don’t already know. When I was in her office she told me that I don’t need to lose weight and that my BMI is normal. Now I have a referral to go and sit with a bunch of fatties and discuss how not to eat McDonalds for dinner. Needless to say, she is no longer my doctor. Who gives someone with an eating disorder a referral to a weight loss course?