Let's talk about the scale. People treat it so vert poorly.
Those who have never suffered from an eating disorder, criticize easily because they cannot understand.
It may be a two edged sword but when you cannot tell if you are fat - or how fat you are - by yourself, scale is your best friend because mirrors lie, scales (usually) don’t.
Scale to me is like the blanket to Linus or the magic mirror to the Evil Queen. If I don’t weight myself I don’t eat.
I know it may seem absurd to you but please indulge me for a moment.
Self-perception for people like me is a seesaw – actually it’s more like a roller-coaster – my mood is
inversely proportional to the number on my scale.
I’d say my eyes suffer from alexithymia it there was such a thing, I simply mean they cannot tell my real proportions like people suffering from alexithymia cannot tell feelings.
It’s quite the odd sensation.
Bottom line, when I step on my scale it tells me how’s my body. If I don’t step on it, well I eat as little as possible because I’m scared to put on unwanted weight without knowing.
You may have noticed I speak of my body in third person, like it is something different from my actual self. It is correct and it is because when I look at it - at me – in the mirror most of the time I hardly recognize it/me.
It is its fault tho, not mine. it betrays me, It’s not the same from day to day. It is me I know, still I’m angry at my body.
Last month I had to spend a whole week with most of my new colleagues in a very nice hotel with a very fancy restaurant where we all ate together 3 times a day (breakfast, lunch and dinner).
I couldn’t really bring my scale on a business travel.
I avoided carbs and I had grilled meat or fish and vegetables at both lunches and dinner. I watched my colleagues ate like there was no tomorrow. I sticked to my plan, I didn’t want to rise any comment from their part.
Was it enough?
Of corse not.
As a compensative strategy, every single morning I woke up at 6am, I put on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt (I’ve been lucky, there was a Tezenis shop just down the hotel street so I bought them there the day I arrived) and I hit the gym for a 30 min hard work session before I got back to my room, had a shower and be ready to have breakfast at 7.15am.
I had a boule of yogurt and muesli every morning and I ate it very slowly because people wouldn’t stop going to the buffet and refill their plate. I knew I couldn’t empty mine until they’d stopped picking up everything that was eatable on their path.
Seriously, what’s with people and free food?
Don’t misunderstand me, this bulimia think is awesome!
When anorexic – and you eat the apple that you let yourself have for that day all alone in your room, crying like your dog just passed away, telling yourself it is only because you can barely walk and you can’t even read the book and you need to have the homework done – people think they have to came in your aid. Asses. I could barely stand healthy people telling me what to do.
When you are bulimic instead, it’s way more easy.
You actually eat so people don’t bother you (not that often anyways) and you can do what you have to do (or not to do) by yourself in the aftermaths.
However bad things go, you can always tell people you’re on a diet or – even better – that you are allergic to that stuff. They may tell you that you don’t need it, that food is one of the only good things in life but eventually it ends there.
As I've already said, it’s awesome.
What really hurt is realizing that people (I mean family and beloved ones here) didn’t took notice. Am I that good at faking it? I don’t think so.
Anyways, on the bright side, I’m eating healthy stuff and I’m also losing a few pounds in the process. Surely my metabolism have a couple thing to teach slots – gosh if it’s slow – but I think it may be another present from my former eating disorder.
I already told you anorexia sucks, even on the long run.
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