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https://www.psychforums.com/blog/tmc115/food_part_3_b-11410_sid-9a0b390eaad73c5497d9fc181a4efeeb.html |
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| Author: | tmc115 [ Wed Sep 13, 2017 6:32 pm ] |
| Blog Subject: | FOOD part 3 |
*warning my trigger those with eating disorders* I look back at pictures and there are a few years there where I was pretty thin, but I don’t remember myself as ever being thin. Probably because Golden was always thinner. And I just wanna pull back and explain that I was never jealous of Golden. I was jealous I wasn’t as worthy as she was, but I loved Golden. She was smart and funny and was really nice to everyone. My short adventure in thindom was over by 5th grade. By junior high I was a joke. I remember being in the mall and seeing that scale that looks like a video game outside the GNC, mom’s telling Golden they should see what they weigh, she’s trying to convince me that I should just watch, but I didn’t want to be left out. Golden weighed 87 lbs. Mom weighed 115 lbs. I weighed 137 lbs. I begged my mom for a wall mirror so I could torture myself with how fat I was. I remember I lost my choir skirt and during class the next day the teacher held it up and it was the same size as her. I probably should’ve waited till after class to go get it, but I was so used to being humiliated I didn’t even think of it. Everyone laughed at me and the teacher didn’t say sorry either. My mom would vacillate between hot and cold when it came to my weight. She pretended that she had no bearing whatsoever on my body issues and acted baffled by my misery and self-hate. She’d pull me aside some times and tell me that she loved me no matter what size I was. Then she would scream at me that she “wouldn’t buy me ‘Fat clothes’”. She’d find out I ate a whole package of Velveeta and go on a rampage about all the calories. Then she’d send me home to gramma and forget all about what I’m eating. She bought me a whole package of Goldfish crackers, and I ate about a third and put the rest back. She saw this and came at me very crazy, “No! I got you that whole package! You can eat the whole thing! Go ahead! Go ahead and eat it. I got it for you.” It was one of the most bizarre episodes I ever had with my mom. I felt like there were guns pointed at me and I’m not making it out as pretty as when I went in. It’s the kindof thing that happens and then you cry, but you aren’t sure why you’re crying. I made myself very still and kept eye-contact with her. In my best de-escalator voice I said, “Thank you. Really. I really appreciate it. I’m actually fine right now, but I’ll be sure to have the rest later. Thank you.” Somehow that worked. She left and my heart pounded like a jackhammer. I was high school age and that’s when I noticed my heart palpitations were worsening. By junior high I was sneaking food in my room. Even if I hadn’t eaten a whole lot I felt safer in my own space. If I was eating in the kitchen and mom came home she would make some comment about it to make me feel bad. I did not feel safe eating in front of her unless it was during a meal, and even then I was being criticized for how quickly I ate, how little I chewed, if I made a rude noise on accident, and, god-forbid if I wanted seconds. I loved her garlic bread. Having it was such torture, because I wanted two or three pieces but I would pay with her looks of disappointment. Later on she’d point out how Sinatra’s kids don’t eat half as much as I do. Mom liked me at church, and I liked being at church because they always had food. 5th quarter was like food bonanza 5 times a year: punch, chips, cake, and cookies. Even in-between regular Sunday school and church were the most delicious donut-holes. Try them dipped in the fruit punch- manifique! I rode my bike a few blocks to Dairy Queen when I had a few bucks and get a large blizzard- cookie dough, mint chip, or oreo. One day I actually ate 2 large oreo blizzards back-to-back. I figured out how to program the vcr to record DragonBall Z. After school I’d walk to the gas station, get a bag of pizzeria combos and a 32 oz pepsi and guzzle them down as I watched my show. If I ran out too fast I might even make a bag of popcorn or two. In high school I found out a trip to Dollar General would produce a giant package of vanilla and chocolate sandwich cookies for under $2, and it was right next to my school! I could slip it into my bookbag until I get home and hide the cookies under my cloths in my closet. I couldn’t wait till Mom went to bed because then I could get a big glass of milk and just sit and devour those cookies. I wasn’t addicted to food, but it was my refuge. It was something that felt good and I enjoyed, and I really didn’t have much that I enjoyed. Every time I found something to be excited about I was shamed for being too excited, patronized, ignored, or it was just taken away from me. But if I ate that thing they couldn’t take it away from me. End Part 3 |
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| Author: | Snaga [ Wed Sep 13, 2017 11:52 pm ] |
Hugs..... |
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