Break Fast
March 4, 2007
I need to take a break from your questions to talk to you about something that seems to weigh pretty damn heavily on my mind, usually: food.
Food.
Look at that word. It’s so tiny. Yet it packs a punch in my life. In the last week, I have eaten about 5 bowls of yogurt, granola and blueberries each morning, a bowl of blueberries on their own, some broccoli, a bit of rice and corn one night, and a bowl of Cheerios and a bit of coffee. I’ve been drinking water - maybe 3 bottles a day.
My appetite is gone. I don’t want meat. I don’t want anything. I don’t want M&M’s. I don’t even think about actual food most of the time. I’m content to let my stomach hurt. It feels good. I feel good. I’m confused as to where my appetite has gone, but I’ve lost 10 16 pounds this week ( I weighed again Monday morning - wow!). I’ve been blasting dance music, going absolutely nuts on the housework, working, and sleeping very little - maybe 3 hours a night. Physically, I feel fine. Energetic. Vibrant.
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I walking away from the binge eater and headed in the wrong direction altogether?
When I was about 12, I used to starve myself. I was 68 pounds in Grade 7. No one ever knew, not even my best friend. My mother was quite vocal in her hatred for fat people. I have to say, since I had my oldest, I’ve felt exactly that way about my body. I hate it. I have some nice curves, my husband loves it, but there’s my mother standing behind me at every mirror, shaking her head at what I’ve become.
Food and I have broken up. I’m walking away from something that could save my life. Anorexia is on the agenda.
As Nelly Furtado would say, “I’m like a bird,” and apparently I’m eating like one.
Break. Fast.
