Eating Disorder Talk

I was a fat kid. Until I learned all there was to know about anorexia, that is. And to be honest, about 80% of my initial motivation to become anorexic was to not be the chubby kid. No longer picked on in school so that I spent lunch hours reading alone in the classroom. No longer spoken about at the doctor’s office in hushed tones while I stood outside and overheard the word ‘clinically obese.’ I didn’t want to have any more reason to be labelled, I suppose, and being fat, it was the one I could control most.

Sure, later anorexia became much more than being thin or liked. But that’s not what this series is about.

This theory I have is that the media does have quite an affect on eating disorder increases. Not strictly in the usual sense, that surrounding us with images of thin, successful people is plaguing our minds and diets; that there is so much literature out there, documenting increasing in obesity in parallel with increases in other health problems.

Obesity can in part be blamed for a whole host of problems:

• Heart disease;
• Diabetes, type two;
• Some cancers;
• Sleep problems;
• Skeletal alignment issues;
• Distortion of cancer test results;
• Sadness;
• Increased sick days, morbidity and the associated costs;
• Potentially lowering dopamine absorption or manufacturing;
• Fertility issues.

And on and on. It seems that obesity can and is being blamed for every physical and emotional health issue at large. So, that being displayed, wouldn’t you be more likely to skip a few meals, avoid fatty foods, become obsessive about maintaining an appropriate body mass index if you are continually being bombarded with news about being fat equalling being unhealthy and, well, dead?

Obesity, Childhood obesity, Cancer, Heart Disease, Diabetes, Sleep, Sadness, Depression, Teasing, Bullying, Sickness, Morbidity, Dopamine, Fertility, Media and obesity, Media and fear

On one of my other blogs, I created a page with twenty-eight resolutions for 2008. Really, I’m not that into the New Year’s holiday and celebration. I think of it as simply the passing of another day, month, year - why throw a party or promise yourself to quit smoking?

Coincidentally though, I’m assessing my life and happiness level and where I’d like to be (and the path I’d like to follow, to get there), and have come up with quite a few 180s I’d like to do.

So, why not sync it up with the rest of the (resolution- making) world?

Here’s my 28, for my 28th year:

Zoë

• potty training
• move to toddler bed
• gymnastics/tumbling classes of some sort
• limit tv time to an hour per day (except date nights)
• make a scrapbook of sorts (i hate every single baby book i’ve ever come across; i’d better just do it my damn self)
• limit fast food to once per month
• make blanket (for toddler bed) and curtains for her room

work, money & lifestyle

• renovate apartment (remove unwanted, restore, paint)
• establish a routine again, allowing at least one hour each, per day for: cleaning, blogging, bookkeeping, me time and Zoë time
• limit starbucks to once per week, as a reward for meeting goals
• blog posting frequency: fmtm? daily; edt 5X per week; tib daily; cut weekly
• stick to monthly budget
• use half of money after expenses to pay debts off; the other half to meet lifestyle goals
• make twice 2007’s blogging income
• look into freelance writing: resume, portfolio, research, specs, etc.
• do work as it’s assigned, because letting it pile up only leads to frustration and overwhelmtion
• complete one distance ed class towards degree
• bake weekly
• have a family dinner monthly
• learn to knit

health & mentalness & other crap, too

• aim for eight hours sleep nightly; wake early, not sleep later
• gain weight - to be a size 1, at least
• the serenity prayer in action: quit trying to change fh and his lifestyle/actions, work on acceptance
• go to the dentist
• read 100 books
• eat five servings of fruit and/or veggies a day
• grow hair to mid-back length
• start doing yoga weekly, at least (maybe bikram’s?)

What’s interesting is exactly how much I freaked out a little at the thoughts of gaining enough weight to be a size 1. Now, with the holiday binge-eating (still happening) having had an effect on all of the sickness weight loss I had, I’ve gained a few pounds - not sure how many. Enough to increase my waist by two inches over it’s smallest measurement of 22 and 5/8" in the past month.

I had to mentally bitch slap myself. I literally had an internal hissy fit at my own brain, for being so idiotic as to think of a size 1 as huge. I had to use similes like "a size one is to Teri Hatcher as special brownies are to munchies and round-framed, rose-coloured glasses." This year is going to be a tough one.

But I really think that I can do it.

What are you going to do in 2008?

Last week, I was doing pretty well, updating regularly, eating regularly and then Saturday happened.

I had been looking forward to my birthday party for a variety of reasons, mostly the fact that I hadn’t been out, sans child, in months and it was to be her first sleepover night with her grandmother. This meant so much to me, having a night away, that of course, I overdid it.

Three days later, I still had a smidge of a hang over. I wasn’t able to eat much for those three days, dropping about seven pounds from the period bloat weight. Back under 100 pounds. Sigh.

Then just when I thought I was recovered, Wednesday evening reared it’s ugly head, bringing the flu with it.

Both my daughter and I were struck simultaneously, her in the form of a two-hour wailfest while we were downtown shopping and me in the form of muscle weakness and headache to the point of doing anything possible to get her to stop screeching, to save my brain from exploding.

So now, it’s been about two days and she’s got full-on ear infections and the beginning of bronchitis. Me? I don’t even know now, since I am so sleep deprived and under-nourished that I’ve got a buzz going. I’ve slept about five hours in these two days because I have a "spirited child."

Spirited kids feel and express things deeply. They’re either clamouring for cuddles or slapping you in the face. They’re screaming or staring at you blankly. This has been my life for the past year and a half, almost, living in the shadow of infant (now toddler) mood swings, always tiptoeing and shhshing other people. And it’s manageable - hell, it’s even fun most of the time - until she gets sick.

Then the world ends and it is all my fault while at the same time, I’m the only one who can make it all better. I don’t get to sleep because she will not sleep on her own. This means I spend most nights alternating rocking and soothing and trying to sleep upright in a chair with her in my arms, my palm making small, soft circles on her back. She is both inconsolable and needy of consoling at all times - leading to it being 110% Zoë time and no such thing as mommy time (even in regards to me eating and going to the bathroom).

Moral to this story: I’ll be back when everything else is back to normal.

Yes, I know that title came across as genuinely arrogant, and trust me, I only half-meant it. Back in 1999, I started college as a mature student (ha) because I had dropped out of high school and was without the diploma that might guarantee my intake. I got in and spent the next five semesters with too heavy a course-load, reading text books the day of the test and writing 10 page psychology papers.

I took the lower-level classes required so that I could get into the really interesting stuff: adolescent and abnormal psych. adolescent was my niche, with my given history of ultra-extreme, uber-problematic teen years. there was sexual assault, drugs, drinking, smoking, self-image and eating disorders all wrapped up in a broken package in me, and I thrived on learning the scientific reasoning, having been a precocious reader from the tender age of seven and being well acquainted with the social ones. Add to it my penchant for planning far into the future, my future (down to what classes I would take so as to be granted a double-honours degree and therefore a potentially superior master’s program application), and I started to think about what I would do my master’s thesis and doctorate papers on. My masters was to be the direct effect of various pictures on women’s body-images; the doctorate, a study of various neural models of women with, without and recovered from eating disorders.

my theory was that since the hypothalamus was an area identified to be associated with pleasure, satiety and appetite, those with anorexia might show a different firing pattern or even a reduced hypothalamic size. Those with over-eating and binging tendencies might show increased activity in these areas; those fasting would show decreased activity.

Lo and behold, it’s eight years later, and scientists have released the results of a study that showed anorexics as having increased activity in the regions associated with anxiety and perfectionism using the results of a functional MRI.

Interesting is that anorexics showed little difference in brain activity between a win or loss in the game they played during observation - something indicative of an apathy towards pleasure and distress. Another brain area was shown to be more active in the anorexic group, the caudate. This area is linked to planning and linking actions to outcome. This intrigues as the anorexic group showed a heightened concern for the effect of their actions and for hidden rules - to the classification of obsessive.

This could mean so much for the treatment of eating disorders - in the very least, for the diagnosis of them (unless you choose to self-diagnose, via Internet tests). Imagine if you could use a similar test to find a predisposition? It also means that I’ll need a more original theory for my doctorate, should I ever get there.

Stay tuned tomorrow for another journal entry. Tonight, I am beyond bagged and still have a few things to do before I retire to bed. Note to anyone applicable out there:

If you have a friend that you’ve known for a little while, and you’re aware of her eating disorder and that she’s trying to make some positive progress but is struggling with it emotionally, please don’t say to her, "you look much healthier," in light of a two pound weight gain.

It will make her feel on display and magnetized. She will worry that if two pounds shows, maybe she should only gain a few more or she’ll end up being a whale. It will mess with her ability to continue making rational eating decisions. Additionally, she will feel like a complete tool later on, when she realizes how much she is blowing it out of proportion.

But it will still sit on her mind and make her feel…noticed. In a not-so-positive way.

The past few months have brought anewed relapse moments. If you’ve been reading for a while, maybe even since my first post, you likely know almost all there is to know about me. That being said, since the past four months have been an emotional rollercoaster, it’s become obvious that though I may not be in official relapse mode, my balance is precarious. I’ve recently written about concerns I have for myself and my stature here, here, here and here. Yes, I do write about myself a lot - comes with the territory of being self-involved and having little to no outlet for it, besides blogging.

So recent emotional traumas, lifestyle battles, lack of motivation and shopping excursions have lead me to this point. A point wherein I will be turning over a new leaf. Previously, I’ve tried to recover for someone else: because of guilt, love, reprimand, fear, any of the kind of emotions that will eventually lead to being alone and feeling unacceptable.

This is the beginning of something new for me, because I don’t want to do this for my daughter, or for friends, lovers, family or my readers on the internet. I don’t even want to do it for my own health. I want to do it for my sanity. Stress can lead in so many wonderful and horrible directions, it can affect your immunity and productivity. And try getting cold after flu, after infection and work from home with a toddler who has little immunity built up in all of her 15 months!

Basically, it can be summed up as this:

• I’m tired of being tired.
• I’m exhausted from fighting for everything and ultimately being happy with little that I am rewarded.
• I am getting weakened from the constant sink or swim of everyday life - and I used to consider myself a strong person.
• I’m sad to see my true image in the mirror every epiphany or so, and see a lightly-padded, tired, quickly aging skeleton with sagging skin staring back.
• I miss feeling like accomplishments meant something, more than an hour after they were accomplished.
• I’m interested in feeling healthy and fulfilled, not like I’m consistently fighting off something and a failure at the moment of waking.

There will be more news to come. And for the record, this is not just a recovery from an eating disorder, it’s recovery from a self-damaging life - emotionally, habitually and practically. I’ll also be launching a new (related) blog, soon, so when it’s up and running, you’ll be the first ones to know!

A website previously unknown to me is about to become a part of my daily life. I am in the process of joining the Checkup Today network, a community based on the topics of various health issues, news and stories.

As far as I’m aware, I will be contributing in part to the Weight Loss & Nutrition category, but there are many other great areas of interest as well. Check out the site and see where it takes you!

Another link I’d like you to check out is the National Eating Disorder Association’s 3rd Annual Every Body is Beautiful Online Auction. The auction ends on December 2nd and includes all kinds of amazing stuff like tickets to live talk show tapings, vacations, celebrity memorabilia, books (like this one, that I’ve previously written about) and concert tickets. I’m panning on bidding on this shirt, so come check out what you can do to help, too. So far they’ve raised over $9,000 to go towards treatment referral, support and education.

Since the blogging boom has erased the dotcom fall-out with so many professional bloggers and telecommuters, new forms of journalism and education being are being embraced and self-publishing via eBooks is going through the roof. What does that mean? Anyone can write a how-to, market it within their niche and sell it for a minimal cost to themselves and their customer. People are snapping these things up! Downloading them up, more like.

So, a question for you, fine reader. If you had the opportunity to download, virtually anonymously, an eBook that taught you how to have an eating disorder, would you? I know some of you, who don’t comment, but still do read, are pro-ana or pro-mia - why hasn’t anyone told me if such a thing exists, where to get it, or why there isn’t a demand for it? Are you all too busy doing crunches and running miles? Email me if you’ve got something to say on the matter, it will not be discussed further on ED Talk outside of any comments you feel like leaving.

And enjoy your weekends, okay?

Today, I ran into a blogging friend while returning some movies. We chatted for a couple of minutes before we parted ways and our conversation, it inspired the following narrative:

I’ve talked before about being pregnant with my daughter. And I’ve read at length, both before getting knocked up and afterwards, about women who get pregnant after a significant struggle with anorexia. There tends to be an even bigger struggle, regardless of state of recovery, during pregnancy for a lot of women.

Some find themselves lapsing back into old habits after years of healthy living, some fight everyday to eat the foods that they know their baby needs. Some women have even made the tough decision to not continue a pregnancy, if they know that they will not win the fight for health - they are choosing to not negatively affect another’s health and development and for that, I think respect is due.

I’m selfish, I’ll admit that right away. I’d been through the ringer with miscarriages and had also been told I could expect to never have children - I could get pregnant but not carry to term - due to my history with eating disorders. So when Zoë the Zygote came to be, I took five pregnancy tests. Then deciding that no one gets that many false-positives, I didn’t even need to consider whether I could continue the pregnancy. Someones, three to be exact, had said I’d not have children and here was another one, trying to prove them wrong!

So instead of the accounts I’ve read and heard about every morsel becoming a huger hill to climb, overexercising in “safe” ways, gaining only the minimum weight recommended and in recommended time periods, etc., I gave up. My body didn’t belong to me anymore, I’d decided. And you know, once morning sickness passed - the horrible, all-day vomiting that made me live within 10 feet of a porcelain god at all moments and allowed only for the consumption of onion soup, chocolate milk and mandarin oranges - I enjoyed a freedom I’d never had, it seemed.

Milk was whole and so very creamy. I visited McDonalds at least once, daily - baby’s fault, not mine, really, I was a vegetarian before that! I ate so often towards the end of pregnancy that a box of cereal lasted a week and a large container of yogurt two days. I finished meals in restaurants - both mine and other people’s.

I very seldomly considered myself fat or a whale or anything I’ve regularly heard non-disordered women say of themselves. I looked, rarely, but still, for stretch marks but didn’t see any. Apparently the joke was on me, because they were all hiding underneath my belly button, where my feet were apparently hiding, as well.

I even remember crying at two different doctor’s appointments because I felt that I wasn’t gaining enough weight and that I was a horrible mother already because I obviously wasn’t eating enough. I was. And then some.

To describe a normal day’s menu would be entirely too gluttonous for me at the moment, but rest assured, most days, especially in my last trimester, I was taking in over 6,000 calories. Double the recommended amount. All in all, I gained a total of 37.5 pounds in about six months - 50 was recommended. Because I’d lost six pounds during the first trimester of morning sickness, I basically started gorging on the world at 99 pounds. The photo above? I still gained another seven pounds after it was taken.

It took five months of breastfeeding, thrice-daily walks with a Snugli, four months of colic and the unempty-handedness that goes with it, and a diet of whatever I could eat while breastfeeding to bring me back to my pre-pregnancy weight.

And after it was all gone, I’ve really only a little bit of sagging skin and some stretch marks as damage. Oh and my hair has been replaced by some hippy’s, but that is a different story. It amazes me still how relaxed I was about the weight gain and morphing of my body and in hindsight, it was one of the more enjoyable aspects of the entire pregnancy. I wish that all women could feel as fine about it as I did.

I haven’t been posting as much as I usually would. There’s several reasons: putting my business’ projects ahead of blogging, running out of time (and motivation) and also, the big one. The big one is that I’m concerned that my descent to uber-waif will skew my posts to the extreme of purely pro-ana propaganda.

I’ve written in the past of my lack of detest for pro-ana sites and forums - I mean, I do believe that they provide a support network for those that feel they’ve no one else to turn to. But that doesn’t mean that I want to turn this here Switzerland-aspiring blog into a pro-ana one - akin to changing from pro-choice to extremely pro-life. I guess that’s backwards, and not the same thing at all, but you get my drift.

You know, I’ve never lied about my weight, habits, history or status on these posts. Consider yourself special because to a constantly struggling anorexic, it’s hard not to lie and it’s even harder to know when you’re lying. We’re practiced at self-deception and every relapse is just losing a couple pounds and every recovery is because we want to be healthy and are tired of it all. The truth: it’s never just a few pounds for an anorexic, like it’s never just a beer or two to an alcoholic; it’s never because we crave health and fitness, it’s because we’ve been pushed so far into the thought of unhealth, that we crave it’s opposite.

During my last post about how I’m struggling, I said I was maintaining nearly 100 pounds. And I still am. I’ve neither lost, nor intended (I think) to lose weight - yet recent photos published to my personal blog and my photosharing site have caused Internet reaction. And then my best friend hugged me the other day and protested that I’m too bony. And then my neighbour had something to say, and even someone who knows personally of the life, being a person of ana’s disposition, she said that I am worrying her.

I don’t understand it - why I’m suddenly thinner or being seen as so - because on a social level, I’m patting myself on the back. Because to everyone of those people, it would be so easy to say, “Do you have any idea how much skinner I would be if I tried?” I can drop five pounds of weight faster than Britney Spears can relapse from sobriety. I am trying to not be skinner.

The screwed up thing: when people show concern, after all these years of people being concerned, it seems like a challenge, like they need something to really be concerned about. Good thing is, I really don’t want to give them that.

The problem with waking up one day with abs that are as flat as my neighbouring prairies is that it sticks in my head. Yes, I’ve got an addiction to flat abs, regardless of cost as my history can account for:

• I’ve gotten the flu. YAY! Vomiting and not being able to eat, like an instant workout.
• Mono? YES! I was too tired and nauseated to eat.
• A killer kidney and UT infection? Great - it’s time for the no yeast, no sugar, no starch diet…leaving little available to choose from.

So it’s easy to see that most relapses (or even just little walks down the path of relapse) usually come from sickness and it’s enforced diet.

I’ve written lately about how stress has affected my eating habits and therefore my weight. I’ve actually be very good at maintaining just under 100 pounds, which is amazing when you consider that except for the eight or so cups of coffee I drink daily, I basically only take in around 500 calories. I think the main reason I’ve plateaued is that my exercise level has drastically decreased as more rain, wind and work to do has hampered my efforts at walking and going to the beach and parks nearby.

For the past two days, maybe because of the Thanksgiving holiday, I’ve been eating a lot (for me). Last night, while IMing with a friend, I found myself eating a chicken pot pie, though I’d already eaten two meals plus snacks that day. Afterwards, I ate a third of a pumpkin pie, just because I wanted to. And then after, and even during, I felt guilty because I’d been doing so well.

Wait a minute. Doing so well at what? This lack of food wasn’t intentional, it was via crazy lifestyle management issues - there isn’t enough time to do what needs to get done and eat for me. Right? I mean, when did I cross from wishing I could eat more, to being proud that I wasn’t?

This surely is a slippery hill I’m trying to climb.

Sarah of Mental and Emotional Health was tagged in a weird things meme showdown and so, like the rock star she is, she passed on the hassle joy to me. So, here’s:

Six Weird Things About Me

1. My natural hair colour has every shade in it. There’s platinum blonde, orangey red, fiery red, auburn, brown, black, dirty blonde. Everything. And my eyes change colour with my moods. Watch out if they’re clear blue with very dark rims; cuddle with me if they’re green.
2. I fall in (and out of) love so easily. I love every friend I make that I feel an instantaneous connection with and am not afraid to say so - at least a third of my phone calls end with, “I love you,” and 98% of those are with women who I am not involved in a lesbian tryst with.
3. My daughter’s name, Zoë, means ‘life.’ Seven years ago, I got a Hebrew tattoo in the same spot that her foot was stuck during my second and third trimesters of pregnancy - she was a footling breech. The tattoo means life. I didn’t pick her name or know it’s meaning until way after she was born.
4. My first full sentence was at 14 months and contained at least two swearwords. It almost caused a traffic accident.
5. My taste in men is shallow and usually has something to do with their attire - I prefer the old school skater boy look with baggy jeans, Etnies and a long sleeved tee layered under a short sleeved one. I usually have a problem with the slacker attitude that goes with the attire, though.
6. I am at least a quarter native - Cree, actually. I am also the whitest native person you’re likely to ever come across, with a complete disinterest in native issues and culture.

I’m not going to tag anyone else, because…well, if you’re interested, you’ll do it and if not, what kind of commentary is that on how you feel about me?

To anyone who knows me outside of this blog, you know that I’ve been dealing with a lot of stress lately - the past few months, especially, but specifically, I’m talking about the past few weeks. I’m a stay at home mom to what many websites, people and books call a “spirited baby.” I’m a single stay at home mom to a spirited baby.

I don’t sleep very much; find myself saying the words “please” and “listen to mommy” more than I hear my peers saying them; and a good day means she wakes up when I’ve already had a half of a cigarette and made a cup of coffee, then naps 4.5 hours later for 2.5+ hours and then goes to bed another 4.5 hours later, without waking up during the night. There aren’t a lot of good days - like that, anyways. She’s makes most days good, don’t get me wrong. And if I could, I’d like little more than to devote my entire life to her, but I can’t since…

I work from home when she allows me to - meaning if a deadline looms and Dora the Explorer is available, sometimes I punch out a quick blog post in the morning. Most of the time though, I work when she’s asleep, either in bed for the night or during a nap. Or during those nap-strike weeks, when she’s crashed out in her stroller and I’ve got a notebook and pen with me - I can get some notes down.

I always have a notebook and pen with me.

So work has been building up because she’s gone through three nap strikes in the past few months. And it’s taken it’s toll on my weight, my life, her routine, my routine. It seems the world is upside-down sometimes because I’m torn between working to provide some economic support for us, and devoting my entire days to her development and entertainment, as I used to before becoming her primary caregiver.

I wrote in the past about realizing that I wasn’t relapsing, that I was just not taking enough time to eat - but as it comes to my mind more and more often, I wonder:

“How can I have time to eat, if I can’t even have time to work?”

Sure, I could make plans to eat every meal with my daughter - then I’d be eating as much and often as a toddler, at least. But I’ve found that this is a magical time, see, because when she’s eating, she’s not running around and I am free to be productive. This can mean cleaning up, doing dishes, writing for one of the three websites I publish on, reading other people’s work, crocheting, bookkeeping, creating information databases for one of my bookkeeping clients or even, sometimes, if I’m feeling daring, showering. (don’t worry, all of these things are done with her less than 10 feet from me, completely aware at all times of any choking hazard.

So, what, do I use up the precious sleeping times to eat? Some days, that can mean not eating between the hours of 6am and 9pm. And besides, those are the working hours, remember? Do I really need to get an average, out-of-the-house job and put her into daycare, just to get a minimum of 1500 calories?

What do you think?

Sarah of Mental & Emotional Health posed me some questions after we bonded via our blog’s comments. I answered them as honestly and wryly as possible. Part one of the interview can be found here. Part two will be up tomorrow.

Enjoy and feel free to mock me. Or just leave a comment for Sarah. She deserves it!

After my post two weeks ago explaining the difference between myself during a relapse and my current habits, due mostly to stress and lack of time, I’ve relaxed somewhat. At least I did.

In the past three days, a shadow has been creeping up. It’s been looking in store-front reflections to gauge the size of my thighs in profile. It’s been challenging the notion that I’m too thin, that a 00 isn’t a right size for anyone over the age of 12. That I’m much bigger than Angelina Jolie, recently named as approximately 105 pounds on a 5′8″ frame. It’s not allowing me to relax.

And so to compensate, I’ve been overcompensating, eating more than I normally comfortably do, at breakneck speed. This isn’t binging by any means - but it’s unusual for me to emotionally eat to the point of fullness. And then do it again a few hours later. I’ve grown more accustomed to a sense of hunger in my belly, not a bloated, voluminous one.

And of course, emotionally eating leads to further shadow sightings. It’s a vicious cycle and I’m going to start fresh tomorrow, remembering why and how I look the way I do. I’ll be working on self-acceptance and not any further escapism. I’ll also report back, as you knew I would.

I feel like I’ve been a fake, so I’d rather get my big (and exciting to me) epiphany out in the open. I blogged about it on my personal site, too - along with some other inspiring life stuff (that was sarcasm). So, to quote myself:

“…in three parts.

one was that i took some pictures of my form after seeing my doctor and finding out i’d lost more weight, unintentionally. i was awestruck and where did all of these ribs came from?

secondly, i was honest with someone i’ve been romantically involved with in the past about my weight. i’ve rarely to never been honest about it and you can guess, if you’re a man i’ve slept with and you ask me how much i weigh when i’m losing weight, i’ll lie. i’ll add 10 or 5 or 6.5 pounds to the actual number because i can’t stand to see the look that is a mixture of incredulity at the mere number and that they would still want to see me naked at that number. i have seen boys go from horny toads to pensive psychologists in the blink of an eye and it’s not pretty (for my self esteem).

thirdly, i got the usual questions which used to annoy me but now i find comforting from one of the longest best friends, stargirl. stargirl amazes me at most moments and there’s been more times than i’d like to remember than me losing weight has lead to a tear-filled conversation. not about her, unlike a lot of the people i’ve interacted with. anyways, she asked the usual questions and she believed me when i said that i thought i was too thin and needed a few pounds, say 5-10. sure, it’s still underweight, but it’s the opposite of being anorexic, so whatevs. and then we discussed my eating habits and it occurred that i’m not intentionally restricting and i’m not purging and i’m not eating diet foods (except skim milk in my starbucks white mochas) or exercising for exercising’s sake. basically, i’m not working to lose weight, it’s falling off cuz i forget to eat and get distracted and am doing one of the million things on my plate, etc. you know that to be the truth when you watch me when zoë’s eating. i will eat anything she does and often finish her leftovers.

so, point: i’m not relapsing, i’ve just not been paying enough attention to terra.”

I feel as if I’ve been lying to all of you readers. And for that and my dramatic hypochondria, I apologize. I also apologize for the near future, when I completely doubt this whole “not relapsing” thought and reverse course, yet again.