Thursday, September 17, 2009


Early in my childhood, I can recall the pleasure I took in eating food. Our relationship was simple; food was delicious so I ate it, and I loved it. There was no concern for the nutritional or caloric properties of food. There was never a second thought. I adored food so much so that my mother threatened to lock it up while she was gone if I did not gain self control. And I cried so much so, as I did not know what I would do without it.

Ultimately that relationship turned sour as I found myself at age 19 weighing 250 lbs. Food could no longer cover for the fact that I was alone and miserable. Nor could it shelter me from the consistent banter of heartless adolescent girls.

It was then that I decided food and I were over. With a mounting interest in nutrition, I knew what was to be done. I cut out food. For six months I ate 600 to 800 calories a day, and I loved it. This restriction was so severe that chewing gum was limited, if not entirely avoided, as I thought to myself, “Do I really want to eat 5 more calories…?” As this went on, I shed 130 lbs.

At 21 years old and 120 lbs., I looked in the mirror and saw the same monster that food helped create; still overweight and still undesirable, even to myself. The endless amount of attention I began to receive was meaningless to me. I wanted to have food in my life again and be a normal young adult. I started eating, but I couldn’t keep it down. I taught myself how to vomit, and that was fabulous for awhile.

No one knows about my year long struggle with bulimia, as I have never been caught in the act, nor have I written about it in my diary. As with most of my disgusting habits, I was able to stop on my own, but not entirely as I will confess, I have done it within the past month.

As I am happier and healthier now, food and I will never be the same again, as our relationship has gotten better, but not entirely.

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