(doodle from this weekend – makes a bit more sense towards the end of this post!)
White toast x 2, butter.
Morning snack ‘
Chicken breast in gravy, mashed potato, brussel sprouts.
Blackcurrant frangipane, custard.
Tuna mayo, jacket potato, butter, 5-bean salad, side salad.
Ice-cream (2 scoops).
Sultanas and raisins.
…& the usual PINT of semi-skimmed milk.
La la-la la-laaaaaa… just trying to ignore the fact it’s weigh-day tomorrow and I’ve had no leave this weekend and my meal-plan has increased, la la-la la-la… yep, just trying to ignore the fact I feel as though I’ve inhaled food just by being around it the past couple of days, eating more and moving less… partly TERRIFIED of how the number will flash up on the scales tomorrow. I’m determined, as usual, to push on and keep striving for that BMI of 20+, owing it to my body, so I know that only the worst thing that can happen tomorrow (for my Eating Disorder) is ‘weight-gain’… which in reality is the BEST thing. I’m just scared to see how fast it’s all going to feel, in case the amount is a shock… how mentally dizzy and concussed I’ll feel looking at that higher number in 8 and a bit hours time.
Now I’ve got that bit off my chest, THIS is where I actually began this blog post:
So you know when you come across a quote on the Internet that makes your brain nod in quiet, giddy agreement… confirming your title as ‘human’ after-all, so much so your head smashes through this glass ceiling of relief, like you’re stood, by Willy Wonka’s side, in the elevator at the end of ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.’ “Other people feel this way too?!?!”
One I often come across, and for years kind of just shrugged it off in humour, like it’s just the ‘normal’/expected way to feel is this: (you’ve most likely come across it before) “Calories (noun) – tiny creatures that live in your closet and sew your clothes a bit tighter every night.”
I don’t know about you but I picture the little things about as tall as the green soldiers in ‘Toy Story’, toppling over each other in a giddy, high-pitched and menacing giggle, firing body shame from their water pistols through the cracks in the wardrobe when we’re sleeping.
It reminds me of that repetitive feeling I’d have going to bed, when I was first vulnerable as a teenager to developing my Eating Disorder… (serial yo-yo dieter, VERY emotionally confused about my relationship with food)… I knew I enjoyed the taste, and it began to be one of the only things I did enjoy, during my teenage confusion, which made it feel ‘wrong’ and undeserving… reaching the end of the day feeling like a ‘failure’; a failure for having caved in and not stuck to my new ‘disciplined’ diet, eating some of the foods I enjoyed when I planned to ‘ban’ them that day and start fresh. I didn’t deserve to eat them because I wasn’t confident, pretty, popular or mature enough, or feel like I had my life together.
And I thought, that when I lost weight, maybe it would improve those areas of my life so that I CAN get my life together. To stop the messy, inadequate emotions tapping my teenage skull. This was less about the way I looked, and more about the feeling inside I was hoping it would bring… that certainty, security in myself and confidence that MIGHT come with feeling disciplined. Maybe THEN I will be allowed to enjoy those foods again. And maybe one day I’ll go to bed feeling in control. So time after time, night after night…
“F*ck it, I’ll start again tomorrow.”
Much do I know now, thanks to the amount of nutritional education (over the 8 years of this Eating Disorder – there are some perks!), is that the mind, however much willpower you have, simply cannot be strong without a nourished body. Cutting any food group, and sticking to a ridiculous calorie amount, might seem doable on paper, but it really doesn’t work. It doesn’t work for your mood, it destroys your psychological health to keep beating yourself up over every ‘failing’ (because you’ve set yourself up to ‘fail’ just by expecting it you will be satisfied on a ‘number’ you’ve decided is your limit… until nature wins, by poking your brain to tell you to go find food (crave) and feed it what it needs)… roll on the unplanned eating, so therefore the water pistols of body shame from the pesky little b*ggars in the wardrobe.
It makes me sad to think there must be so many people still out there setting them up for similar feelings. And going to bed like this every night. There is this magic but evil pull towards turning to calories for comfort. The reassurance that a number is a number, it is what it is. Therefore if we count and follow them through the day, we can be in control. We cannot go wrong with the maths – it’s controllable, unlike what may seem like our life and it’s emotions.
Back to the quote at the start… my point was going to be (before I went on a satsuma of a tangent) – I said satsuma due to the word ‘tangent’ reminding me of a tangerine. And the amazing thing about writing with no ‘rules’? Being able to talk complete and utter b*ll*cks) So please, go ahead and enjoy yourself that satsuma comment…
…BEFORE the satsuma/tangerine… whoever came up with that quote, is a clever and funny s*d, to detach that guilt we might get from enjoying food onto something outside of ourselves in the form of little creatures… and yep it’s one of those feeling we all (most of us) seem to relate to.
WHICH MAKES ME SAD. Guys, could we not just take a moment to realise how UPSETTING it is that we just ‘accept’ that calories are the grizzly bears of the animal kingdom, that we just ‘accept’ that we are weak to enjoying food, to just ‘accept’ that all calories do is make us ‘fat’? To ‘accept’ that it’s normal to beat ourselves up at the end of the day about eating more than what we’d unrealistically hoped… that even though we’re alive, breathing, have all four limbs, have probably achieved a lot that day, been kind to people, been loved and have showed love… our relationship with calories determines how we should feel when it comes to bed-time.
And nowwwwwwwww it’s supper-time (and another weigh-day tomorrow)… so I’m off to kick some Anorexia’s arse and eat myself some food after what it feels like I’ve already done throughout every minute of the day, today… even when because of viewing my body through my Eating Disorder for so long I now feel as though my arse is jiggling as I type thanks to the weight-restoring, and my boobs are small water-bombs, instead of the under-cooked scotch pancakes they were three and a half months ago.
I’ve got lots more to natter about on this subject, and I MAINLY wanted to explain the man in my doodle! I’ll introduce you to him in my next post… but basically it’s the imagined guy it feels works closely with my Eating Disorder – making me turn the kitchen into a crazy science lab. Numbers, sums, weights, calories, unlimited and impossible algebra-like equations are the focus… instead of food and flavour. But I also want to point out about how it’s interesting now noticing my mind-set around this shifting through recovery.
I got this image in my head that this feeling/person when in the kitchen, reminded me a bit of the cartoon Professor on a box of Wheeto’s cereal! (so that’s where you might recognise him) Anyway, until Tuesday…