I could tell you the story of the eating disorder itself, but there’s a lot of good reading out there about that. What I want to talk about is recovery.
" By opening night, none of us could wait for our cue to get on stage and DANCE OUR BEAUTIFUL BUTT NAKED BUTTS OFF."
It was time to embrace my nightmare. So I stripped and for the hell of it hung about bare-assed in a room full of clothed people. Although I’d already left self-consciousness behind me, I wanted to be able to tell this story.
It has been part of my life for so long that I have woven it into the fabric of my personality and sense of self.
As soon as we change the subject from thin to fat, we change the conversation from concern to hostility.
Being a human is hard. Being a human with an eating disorder is inexplicably hard. Every time I think I have control over the situation, my eating disorder pulls a fast one on me and reminds me what is really in charge — food and exercise.
One day I was “healthy” and the next day I was sick — slowly and then all at once.
You didn't fail the diet; the diet failed you.
If you were a teenager in the late '90s or early 2000s, chances are you know about Livejournal.
All I know is that having someone poke tiny holes in my skin is really effective at helping me manage my depression and anxiety.
Like 7.5 million other Americans, I have depression with a side of anxiety disorder. But I was scared to follow the traditional treatment plan of adding an anti-depressant to my breakfast, so I decided to try treating my conditions with acupuncture instead.
Here’s the dilemma I find myself facing pretty much every time I think about fat/weight/diabetes/bullshit sold to us by the media/mostly Weight Watchers: What is true?