This is graphic so don’t look if you’re squeamish.
Our dog is tripping balls after surgery and she has forgotten how to potty, so Ryan is giving her a pep talk.
Ryan and I are thinking about driving cross-country soon. Maybe in the next few months. He thinks he can take 2 weeks of vacation and I’m my own boss starting in October so like…why not? I’ve never driven cross-country and I’ve always wanted to, and we’re not going to be able to once we have kids, so.
Let’s do this.
I love my skin!
Whole wheat apple cake with toasted pecans and browned butter frosting. Going in to work with Ryan tomorrow!
Guys, I should buy these tickets to the Avett Brothers with the Lone Bellow for Saturday, right? It’s at Riverfront Park in Nashville, the weather is supposed to be beautiful, and I haven’t had a date with my husband in like a month. I should buy the tickets, right?
We’re adults and we get to decide what that means: The Home Depot Edition
I love texting because it’s just like passing notes with my besties in high school except now we’re all in our 30s and spread out across the globe. And now we have the benefit of ridiculous internet memes. These days I get messages from them that make me fight a giggle fit at my desk just like I did in high school and something about that is incredibly sweet to me.
I don’t think I really started feeling empowered until I started eating whatever the hell I wanted. I mean, I read The Beauty Myth and I watched America The Beautiful and all of that stuff and I knew, objectively, that Western beauty standards were total oppressive bullshit. And I was appropriately angry about it. But I was still locked into some rigid food rules and my liberation didn’t really happen until I gave them all up. Every last one.
Here’s what I used to do. This was “in recovery,” granted it was early recovery. But this is what I thought was actually healthy:
- No eating after 6pm (this was a big deal because in my anorexia I never ate dinner, so I thought 6pm was like, breaking the rules somehow. And I was SO PROUD of myself for eating that late. Pretty pitiful.)
- No grains, or very few grains.
- No dairy.
- Basically just meat, veggies, and a few approved fruits. I ate practically the same meals every day.
I was following the Blood Type Diet for quite a while, and I was not weight restoring at all when I really needed to, so it obviously was not good for me. But I thought I was taking such good care of myself, and meanwhile I stayed really sick.
I didn’t start getting better for real until I started taking Paxil, and that shit was just like weed. I got the munchies just like I did when I used to smoke pot. I was hungry and all my anxiety about food rules decreased to the point where I couldn’t muster the energy to care. It was like “Man, I want Cinnamon Toast Crunch.” And then I was at the store buying it for myself. And somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should feel bad about it, but I just really didn’t. It was like the medicine turned the volume down on my OCD thoughts enough that my old self could come back out and play.
And my old self, my true self, fucking loves Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
So I guess that’s the point at which I started getting mad for real. Like, how dare society tell me that I’m not supposed to enjoy Cinnamon Toast Crunch??? Cinnamon Toast Crunch is a gift from God and we should all enjoy it. Food in general is a gift, it’s one of the greatest pleasures in life. One of the simplest joys we can experience, from birth. Breast milk is sweet. We learn from day one to appreciate the sweet things in life. How could I have been missing out on this for so many years?
My body image is not perfect. Hell, my body itself is far from perfect. I have cellulite on my thighs and soft arms and little rolls on my belly when I sit down now. All of the clothes I wore in my eating disorder look like they were made for a child- I can’t fit into any of them. I’ve given most of them away, but I keep a few for reasons I can’t quite articulate. It’s not that I want to go back, it’s that I don’t want to forget. Because that sad, very small girl was also me. And she was suffering, and I don’t want to lose her completely. I don’t know.
Anyway. I don’t always feel great about my body. But I always feel great about food, and I’ll be damned if I ever let anyone take it away from me again.
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