One week has progressed since Barack Obama earned four more years in the White House. It has taken this long to offer classy acknowledgement to this ‘situation’. So yes, congratulations, Mr. President.
Twelve years and one week have progressed since my mother fetched me from college, freshman year, first semester, transporting me home to exercise my right to vote, on that cold November day in 2000. It was a selection between Al Gore and George W. Bush. My first election. And I was battered in fat.
Stomach cinched with a girdle; legs dressed in khaki-styled, slightly flared pants by Abercrombie & Fitch; hangover fat, that which my girdle could not contain, constricted by a thick chocolate brown belt by American Eagle; waist, covered with the bottom tier of my orange wool v-neck sweater by A&F; I was sweating extreme buckets of sweat at 7am, waiting outside in frigid temperatures, sans coat because it didn’t fit any longer. My weight had exploded, and I hoped that my mother would not notice.
But it was judgement day.
Nearly one month had passed since permitting my parents to visit. Whilst homesick students happily lunched with visiting parents on weekends, I fueled my roommate’s car, driving 25 miles to Ohio to purchase boxes of Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch and gallons of fat free cow’s milk; too small, too expensive ‘they’ll-fit-in-a-week’ sweaters from The Limited; and then-legal ephedrine from the GNC.
All of my hard-earned money.
All spent in solitude.
My mother, exiting from her vehicle to greet her estranged daughter, looked at my body in shock. Reading her mind, her silent expression of disbelief, of disappointment, I just wanted to die.
And then she spoke.
“You need to buy bigger clothes. Or lose weight.”
Simple. Clear. Objectivist words.
Perfect words.
But I hated her for them, and I continued with my bulimic lifestyle for the next decade. Why couldn’t I just buckle down, losing the weight, moving forward with my health? It was because, allowing a little bit here and there, I did not go cold turkey. My body and mind settled for that piece of cake; and my perfectionist tendencies drove me overboard into pizza, ice cream, and Reese’s peanut butter trees, every single time.
That election day was hell for me. And for my mother. And for the entire family. Not only did the flaming liberal, Al Gore, lose, causing me to identify with a losing party; but I lost a nice day that my mother intended to make special. My first election. My first exercising of that right to vote. I spent it angry because my mother did not understand, or so I thought.
Now I realise that she executed a perfect job. A Dara-Lynn Weiss in her own right, my mother did not coddle my emotional distress at being fat. She rather acted precisely as I’d now expect, demand, in fact. Throughout my bulimic years and even now today, blaming herself for “not knowing what to do,” she can rest assured that she did everything perfectly. Superbly. Perhaps objectivism is inherited. Or perhaps it’s just her superb job at nurture.
Perhaps I am more like her than I thought.
Remembering my mother’s words inspired me to shut the fuck up and to get it done. I did not listen then. But I am listening now. And bigger clothes I shall not buy.
What role does your mother play into your eating?
© Nicole Marie Story and nicoleandgwendolyn.com, 2011, 2012.
Disordered eating runs in my family. Both my mother and grandmother on my mother’s side have warped views towards food, and my grandmother on my father’s side was obese. My mother’s relationship (or lack of) with food heavily influenced my attitudes whilst growing up – even though I didn’t realise it at the time. Emphasis was placed on being small and perfect; of eating less. I strongly believe the motivations that drive anorexia are very different to those that drive bulimia. From experience, I would say that (my) anorexia was driven by extreme control, whereas I see bulimia as being driven by a lack of control…. but no matter what your disordered tendencies, I do think there are many factors at play. I think there is some credence to genetics playing a part but more importantly, societal and environmental factors and I think that food behaviours can be learned. Whether or not you learn from watching and imitating someone who doesn’t eat, or whether or not you don’t eat as some sort of act of rebellion, the result is the same. The neurological and chemical responses in your body to starvation actually perpetuate the starvation. Receiving praise from those you look up to (particularly parents) for losing weight is also very strong reinforcement of the behaviour. Although I’ve not lived at home since I was 19, I’ve had to learn to separate my mother’s disordered eating from my own in order to manage my eating habits. I have had to develop my own rules, my own committment to why I eat the way I do and I am happy with the result! There are still days where I’m bombarded by ridiculous thoughts, but they are just that. Thoughts. They do not need to become actions. Some might say I’m still to regimented in my method of eating (highly structured, fresh whole foods, no sugar, vegetarian, no grain products blah blah blah) and exercising (I do no less than 90 minutes of exercise per day) however, it is acceptable to me. It is enough fuel to ensure my body performs all those “extra” duties (shiny hair, strong nails etc) without going into starvation mode but not so much that I feel overwhelmed by volume. I exercise because it makes my brain happy – running, Bikram, weight training – and because it keeps my body in performance mode. I’ve worked hard to get here, and I’m happy with the result! :)
Thank you for contributing this perspective! It’s always delightful to hear from you.
Based on this comment and on our love for owl nightgowns, you and I are very similar despite our philosophical differences. The management systems. The spectacles. The thin adoring parents. The whilsts.
Everything that you’ve written could have spurted directly from my head. The exercise addiction “control.” The “extra” duties. The “worked hard to get here, and I’m happy with the result.” And OMG, you should be so happy with that result.
Until observing your photograph today, I imagined that you were some crazy divorced grunge weirdo ED chick on the prowl for men by night turned brilliant scientist by day (that’s what happens without pictures and just words, at least for me, ha). But you are so pretty and thin and delicate and kind looking! It’s always a pleasure to read your work, but now even more so. So your comment couldn’t have made me happier! My maternal grandmother, love her dearly, but she comments upon weight immediately upon seeing me (reference: Walking on Eggshells.). This is why I am dreading Christmas with the family. Well, I was dreading it until I went cold turkey from caring about what others think of my body. So when you mention your mother and grandmother, I totally identify. (the grandmother to whom I link in the main article here is my paternal grandmother who has just been very tiny all of her life and never binged and purged).
And as for my disagreement… You said, “From experience, I would say that (my) anorexia was driven by extreme control, whereas I see bulimia as being driven by a lack of control…. but no matter what your disordered tendencies, I do think there are many factors at play.”
Personally, I started off the grand bulimic experience with a six month stint at anorexia. I starved perfectly. And then when I started eating? I ate perfectly. By perfectly, for me, I mean to the extreme. Intensely. My head said to eat it all because that’s what a good perfectionist does. And I got rid of it, or so I thought. I didn’t become really good at vomiting until 2008 when I had my Bulimic Breasts implication. I didn’t want to throw away 10 grand, so the extra vomit (for even regular meals, not just binges) was necessary. I was a fantastic combination of binge/purge restrict/purge girl in those last two years.
Thank you again for your comment! Yay again for your new spectacles! I love them!
You are welcome :-) I don’t comment regularly anywhere at the moment as I’m ridiculously busy but I always read. I’ve often thought we are quite similar despite differing philosophies, management techniques and opinions but I always appreciate other perspectives because I know that mine is not the only one and it’s certainly not “the one” for everyone! I’m very pleased to hear you are going cold turkey on caring what other people think because the only expectations you ever need to live up to are your own and the only one whom needs to be happy with your choices and behaviour is YOU!! :-)
PS – now I’m wishing I was a crazed, divorcee on the prowl to devour men in place of my ED or some such, turning them into slaves by feeding them chemical cocktails that I’ve cooked up in my kitchen lab! Haha. Maybe I should start a new segment on my blog…….following your “kitchen yoga” lead, I might start a segment called “kitchen experiments”…. I can teach everyone how to make a nuclear reactor on their stove. I think it will be a smash hit! Hahaha. Have a supremely awesome day. I’m about to get some beauty sleep ;-) xo.
A smash hit, indeed! That is absolutely something that I shall enjoy viewing. It shall be a modern Mr. Wizard. Remember that show from the 80s? Of course you do. :) May you awaken even prettier than before you retired to your slumber. xo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKiq5EwkzDg
PS: Do you know what’s really freaked me out? As a child, I thought that Mr. Wizard was totally ANCIENT. But just having now viewed this clip, I thought, “OMG! I’d date this guy if he were a compelling man. He’s not old anymore.” LOL.
I have a few questions…
One: in this case, you seem to appreciate – at least retroactively – your mother be blunt and honest with you about your weight gain. However, you also currently avoid family gatherings because you don’t want to hear comments about your weight. Well, which is it? Do you appreciate them being straight forward with you, or do you not want it? It seems like your family gatherings would go more smoothly if they didn’t make those comments. Have you ever straight-up told them you don’t like it and to stop? And did they still do it? If so, that is messed up. But maybe, if they are under the impression you like the constructive feedback, they think it’s OK to do…maybe. Although frankly, I think anyone who makes any sort of comment about weight to someone who a) has a history of ED and b) is so freaking skinny like you, needs to be whacked up side the head.
Thank you for saying that I am skinny. :) I shall try to remember that on the Christmas Inquisition. :)
Dear Cookie Monster, Please accept my regrets! I did not answer your kindly stated questions because I was too enamoured with your “so freaking skinny like you” comment and forgot about everything else!!! Ha ha!
So, does my family know NOT to say anything? Yes. 100%. They all read my blog. In fact, my grandparents threatened not to attend my sister’s wedding last year after I published Bulimic Breasts.
So, they know the deal. But, in their minds, they equate super thin with success. And when a girl is fat, she has lost that competitive edge. She has lost the right of being respected. They don’t mean to offend, I know that for certain. But when my grandmother says, “You look better,” it takes an arrow to my already cold heart because I know what her head is thinking. I know that my weight and body are the FIRST two items that register into her mind when looking at me. And to be a failure is not acceptable to me.
I’m still thinking about gracefully bailing out on Christmas because I’m busy with clients all day anyway. I might just send a letter to my grandmother, telling her that I am too disgusted with my body to flaunt it in front of the family. Her birthday’s in January, so I shall set the goal to be acceptably thin by then. December is approaching much too quickly, and I simply won’t be ready in time.
Cookie monster is very skinny too, underneath all this blue fur.
I think you’re projecting a lot of your own thoughts on your family….yes, they probably notice your current level of fat vs. skinny because they know it is important to you and that you’ve struggled in the past, and probably because they are trying to figure out where your head is currently at. But it is out of concern for you, not out of judgement. I would think being a member of your family means a lot of walking on eggshells and saying things you think are OK only to have them blow up in your face. Your grandmother probably says you look good because she think you look good, you’re the one reading into it.
And I know you know this, but grandparents don’t stay around forever, unfortunately – parents don’t either for that matter, no one does – so you need to spend all the time you can with them now when you are able to because you will be so, so sad later when you look back. Your grandmother loves you, she wants to see you on Christmas!
This is very nice advice. Are you my mother? :)
I still play a lot of video games. But one time, when I was younger, I was sitting in my room playing Skies of Arcadia. “Captain Hate” (our name for mom’s PMS) was in town and going on a cleaning rampage. She told me to put down the Snickers and start doing something. That was ingrained in my memory.
Then I had a few ED’s. More recently, mom started losing a dramatic amount of weight after being overweight for a very long time. I figured if she could turn things around for the better, I could turn things around for myself, and finally start eating to gain not to sustain. So I did that. And now I’m here.
I wish all parents were as honest as your mother. You are very fortunate!
Oh, Bianca! Your snickers story absolutely tugs at my heart, just like did my “Buy Bigger Clothes or Lose Weight” story. Why did my own story tug at my heart? It was because I had forgotten about it. So hearing yours had a similar affect. Here is more information…
I applaud you for remembering what your mother said. I did not. I remember feeling embarrassed, angry, and disgusted for and with myself on that election day. But I did not remember the exact words that my mother had said to me (and no, I was not drunk as I had yet to develop a fine taste for gin, lol).
On election day of this year, my mother called me around 6:30 in the morning and asked if I had remembered that day. I said, “Yea, I was fat, and I wore this this and this.” She then proceeded to tell me, in normal conversation, “Yeah, I told you to ‘Buy bigger clothes, or lose weight’, and you didn’t like that.” Haha! “And you were mad all day and hid in your bedroom.”
And then I requested her permission to blog about it; and she agreed. There were many instances in my early bulimic years where she’d hear wrappers crinkling in my bedroom. But I do not have the at-home super bulimic experience because I was alone by that time. In the short time that I lived with my parents as a bulimic, it was very hidden and secretive. I would eat whole pizzas in the parking lot of the up and coming Wal-Marts. It was fucked up. BUT, I shall tell you this… although my mother is a “dieter” and “watcher”, she never ever ever discouraged my eating or nutrition. It was just the opposite. She is Italian and wants to feed her children and always has done such. Even now that my former state of bulimia is aired into the open, she encourages me to “heat up” a “bag of vegetables” and “dip it in a brand new jar of salsa” when I visit. That’s what old fashioned Italian moms do. They feed… even though they secretly judge your body. :D
So I know that your mom wasn’t criticising your body when she mentioned the Snickers. But I totally get of why you reacted with Anorexia in the way that you did.
I heart you!
Wow. Thank you for such a thoughtful reply, Nicole. You speak to my heart.
That shall cost you exactly one fabulous martini. In GBP. In New York. And I shall pay for the rest. :)
Hi Nicole!
Really liked this post. I can feel your trepidation and dread as your mom picked you up to vote, and I’m so glad you’re now able to appreciate and embrace her reaction.
My mother, unfortunately, has played a big role in why I have an eating disorder, though it’s not her fault. First of all, some of her habits rubbed off on me, such as “It is more important to get work done than to eat” and “It’s important not to have people see you eat at social events.” Essentially, she eats as little as possible until someone else suggests that she eat something, at which point she ends up overeating for that particular meal.
Despite habits she thinks are healthy, my mother is on the overweight side, partially because she never exercises. Watching my mother eat so little and still be overweight gave me a tremendous fear of being fat, and it made me feel guilty for wanting to be fit and thin because I didn’t want her to compare herself to me and feel not good enough.
I was unable to decide whether I wanted to be thin or overweight to make my mother feel better, and this played a role in overeating and then purging.
Also, my mother is very difficult to talk to and get support from. If I tell her I have some kind of problem, her response is to protect herself from feeling the pain she gets from seeing her daughter upset. This results in an angry and critical response when I need her most. When she found out I was bulimic, she told me that I was an inconsiderate, selfish, slob who was ruining her house. Feeling that I didn’t have anyone to talk to had me turn to food to deal with my emotions. Yet, I know she reacted the way she did because she didn’t know what to do.
Nicole, I’m glad your mom’s words have given you motivation today. I think that everyone needs to look and feel whatever way they need to in order to put their best self forward. It’s up to only the individual to decide what’s best for them, because no one else knows what it’s like to be in your body.
Lea, Your comment would make me cry, if I were prone to crying. But I did cry this morning; and it was due to reaction earned from my mother, so believe me, your comment has totally tugged at my heart.
My mother is likewise very difficult to talk to and to get support from. My parents both, as wonderful as they are, still treat me like a criminal. Being bulimic apparently registers a person as untrustworthy. I am the only of their daughters who does not know the passwords / security codes into their home; and it’s really fucking hurtful. For three days in December, I do not have a formal place to live in my transition to a new home / my staunch “I’m not paying you a grand to live here for three days” mindset to the present disgusting landlord. And my parents, upon telling them this, questioned, condescendingly, “Where do you expect to live?” … as though I was asking to live with them. Although I would NOT live with my parents, even if they offered, it would have been nice to have been given the opportunity to at least shower at their home to save me a thousand plus dollars. But I am a criminal. A bad person. In their eyes.
And I am the kindest, gentlest, most ethically law-abiding person with whom one shall ever be acquainted. But with my parents, in addition to the bulimia, they expect for one to “comply” with corporate America which I did not. So I started my own business, and I am successful. But because they can not see my finances at some Stock Exchange, they do not trust me. Again, my parents are wonderful people; but they gauge success on bottom line. I do, too, with regard to business… but not with regard to a “person.”
Also, like yours, my mother is very difficult to talk to and get support from. If I tell her I have some kind of problem, her response is to protect herself from feeling the pain she gets from seeing her daughter upset. And believe me, I get fucking hot headed ANGRY. This results in an angry and critical response when I need her most. I don’t need much, but sometimes a girl just needs her mom. When she found out I was bulimic, she told me that I was an inconsiderate, selfish, slob who was ruining her house. They paid for an apartment for six months; and they have supported me when in dire financial need since then… but because I am a bulimic criminal, I am always subject to their disdain. Perhaps I would react in the same manner, if I were them. I do not know. That is why I shall not have human being children. Gwendolyn shall never be bulimic.
The individual. That is why I’ve sub-titled my blog with “the individual.” Thank you for your comment. It means a whole lot.
Oh Nicole,
I’m at work, reading your reply to Lea, and it brought such a dark cloud over me, and it makes me so sad : (
I’m so sorry you still feel like a criminal when it comes to your family. I mean no disrespect to your parents, but both your mother and your father were wrong in your upbringing. As children, we have no choice but to hold everything our parents tell us about the world, and especially ourselves, as 100% truth. 100% because we had no choice. Our parents were our only connection to the world. We are all clay, and no matter how intelligent as children we are, we are ‘victim’ to what we learn, directly and indirectly from our parents. Again, we had no choice. That is that. YOU are absolutely, 100% not at fault for your body image issues (I use the word “issues” lightly because I’m not really certain if that is a good choice of words). Your father’s oinking and obsession with weight is deplorable, and your mother’s inability to support you emotionally is likewise unacceptable. But, many parents, mine included, don’t realize how children are affected by their words and actions. Children can only learn by observing, and our parents are who we focused on, naturally. We watched them. We listened to them. They were God.
Even as we grow older, and no matter how many years of therapy we endure, our minds have been trained from the get go, and it is hard and scary to embrace the fact that our parents are WRONG, but it is possible to accept and embrace this fact in adulthood. They didn’t do everything right, and of course, we take some responsibility as adults to say, “I CALL BULL SHIT” on my parents. It doesn’t mean we don’t love them, but it also means we are allowed to dislike them at the same time we love them. It is hard to say that because we feel uncomfortable at the thought we might be disloyal to our parents, but it is OK to say, “Fuck you Mom and Dad. You made me into the person I am without realizing what you were doing, but now, I know I don’t have to accept your image of me anymore, and the image you taught me to accept and believe about myself is no longer going to be tolerated, and I am learning, and growing, and liking myself!”
I know you don’t like mushy hugs, but I’m sending you one anyway : ) Email me about the new place.
Cassy, I feel a tad selfish reading your comment because I feel as though I’ve just sat through the best therapy session of my life. And I have paid you nothing for it.
The email which I just sent to you was sent after reading only the first and last paragraph of this comment. So I hadn’t read the entire comment until now.
My parents argue that I’ve always been combative since childhood. They argue that my sisters were able to overcome their EDs. That’s an aside conversation that we can have off-blog.
I really wish that I were thin today so that I could fly to your town and meet for wine. Give me a few months. Please! And I shall email you about my new lease. xo
hugs : )
Thank you SO much for your sweet response. It’s so nice to have someone who understands so well, but I hate that you dealt with anything similar to my experience, because you didn’t deserve it.
I do relate to my parents not trusting me because of my bulimia. Not only is lying a part of bulimia, but my mom somehow sees my ED as a betrayal of her. I know that both you and I are quite trustworthy- even though there is some dishonesty with EDs, there is never an intent to hurt anyone with that. One of the reasons I would try to hide my ED in the past is to protect everyone. I didn’t want anyone to know I was suffering. Now, like you, I’m completely honest about everything in my life including my ED. I consider myself extremely trustworthy and I want so badly to prove that I deserve trust when people are skeptical.
So I’m getting choked up reading that your parents won’t give you the security code to their house (when your sibilings have it) or allow you to stay with them temporarily. That has to be beyond hurtful and frustrating. While my parents may have their trust issues with me, I do have their security code and can stay with them if needed, although we do have conflicts at times.
Your point about your parents also not trusting you because you’re not corporate is interesting- I totally get it. This also seems really frustrating and unfair, especially since you put your full heart and effort into what you do. It will likely not surprise you that I was raised in an affluent family and that my mom, dad, and brother are OBSESSED with money, particuarly how much money can be made in the stock market. My mom literally spends 8-10 hours a day watching the market. I definitely think my parents look down on me because my “financial” goal is to make enough money to cover my needs, and that’s it.
Thank you again for your response. We can’t change our parents, but we can accept them for who they are and still pursue the path we want. I hope you’re having a great day!
Lea, I did have a great day, but your reply comment was icing on the great day cake; and my day is hereby deemed as having been marvelous!!! :D
I’m not even sure how to respond to you appropriately because I feel like I’ve just read something written by my identical twin. And now my head is thinking, “But I bet my identical twin is much thinner than I am.” But now I am saying, “Shut the fuck up, Nicole.” And now I’ve erased those competitive thoughts.
Oh goodness gracious, I am so grateful for this blog because of meeting people like you. Your experience, your expression, and even your grammar speaks wildly to my heart. And I’m still nodding and twisting my head in reply to your comment. It was perfectly delivered.
Obsession with money sucks. I’m a venture capitalist, yes; and I want to earn as much as possible. But my first priority is Gwendolyn’s healthcare. Second is my apartment. Third is my food. Fourth is my savings. Fifth is my healthcare. And simply because my income is variable, my family just views my life as a hobby. Well, bonjour, hobby; you’ve supported me fantastically since you became of interest in April.
I work so hard. I care so much for the animals who are entrusted into my care. And when I’m available for a Sunday dinner (to which I’m invited at the family’s house), I am questioned about why I’m not working and or busy with clients.
Perhaps this is why I’m cold. It shall be nice to be warm and happy one day.
xo
You’re a venture capitalist? You give startup funds to fledgling businesses? Or do you just mean you’re a capitalist? As someone who’s always on about Rand, I thought you might want to look up the difference.
Also, you’re a grown adult. Time to tell your family that you want no comments at all about weight or appearance, positive or negative, and hold them to it. It’s sad to still let them have this kind of control over you in your 30s.
Your second paragraph is gorgeous.
Thank you for it.
I’m glad you are in a much better place than you were in November of 2000. It’s hard for me to imagine you gaining weight so quickly from the summer to the fall of your freshman year of college.
My mom would pinch my tummy fat when I was a little girl. She would also make me do sit ups with my feet braced underneath the couch. When I was a freshman in high school, I had made the cheerleading squad and the skirt that I had ordered fit too tight. My mother commented, “Why didn’t your order a bigger size, you’ll need to lose some weight.” It was great motivation, I used the Slim Fast diet plan and I lost 6lbs before my freshman year.
My mother wasn’t always critical to me. In fact she has always been hard on herself. She exercises on a daily basis and she wears stylish clothes. She was always on a “diet” when I was growing up. Her mother was a real bitch who was constantly criticizing her. I hope I am able to break the cycle of body dysmorphia in our family.
Dolly! Do you yet know the sex of your second child? If you break the cycle of body dysmorphia in your family, you will need to write a book on exactly that subject matter. I shall buy it, and I shall buy copies for everyone that is included in my circle of friendship.
I don’t remember the exact moment that I took my “just before anorexia” diet into anorexia mode, but my dad oinked at me, at my great-grandmother’s house in 1999 when I was on that “junior prom-pre-anorexia” diet. And I do remember, when I became bulimic and gained weight, he said, “You need to go on your mom’s pear diet. She did that when we had just gotten married. She’d eat a pear for breakfast and a pear for lunch. And she was thin. And then she had children.” (implying that she was no longer pear diet thin).
So as much as I want to protect my dad, he’s absolutely had a huge play into the early stages of my fucked up eating. He does not accept fat people. He always commented upon and still comments upon fat people. I am a perfectionist. So I want to be accepting to my father. Yet he is overweight.
So why have I mentioned all of this? Well, in 1999, I went quickly from anorexia to bulimia. Gained a few pounds then battled for all of my high school senior year with the cycle. When away from my family at college in 2000, I just went buck wild. I ate and I ate and I ate. Although I bought (and stole) laxatives and vomited, I ate astronomically more than my body could handle hence the weight gain.
Ta fucking da. :)
Aren’t you ever tempted to “oink” at him now? I believe that while you can certainly love someone, it doesn’t mean they’re likable or even deserving of that love. Parenting is hard and while people can certainly be very thoughtless and hurt us without ever meaning too, so I’m not saying he hurt you deliberately, but baby, payback is a bitch.
I am fascinated by how many people “hate/dislike” others that are like them. You say your father constantly denigrates (I know, my word not yours) overweight people while being overweight himself. Again, are you ever tempted to just chime in “Pot, kettle”??/
I’m not tempted to oink at my father because I just want him to be healthy. I can be a bitch; but I could never be such to my father.
He admitted himself into the hospital last weekend because of chest pains. So when he called me on Saturday morning from the hospital whilst my mother was unavailable, requesting my assistance with transportation back to his home, I, of course, offered my nine cents…
“Daddy, Of course I am available… (awkward silence)… you need to stop eating processed foods, exchanging them for a whole foods, plant-based diet.”
His reply?
“I’m just going through Diet Coke withdrawal.”
“Daddy, it’s not withdrawal. Your OD on Diet Coke is likely what caused your chest pain in the first place. The toxins in that coke are not intended to support a human body. You need to drink water. Lots of it.”
“Blech. Water is blech.”
Water is blech. Okay.
A girl can only campaign so much. Clearly I was not a good campaigner for Romney. I am not a good campaigner for health.
But I shall never directly hurt a person because of their physical stature, no matter how much they’ve fucked up my head.
I just want my father to be healthy because he worked hard to raise three children. He deserves nothing but a good life.
I am sorry about your dad’s health scare : (
Thank you.
He is okay now. :)
I loveee the way you tell these stories. They are so passionate and make me feel as if I am with you throughout the process. My mom has never really played much of a part in my eating, she encourages me to show her some of my eating habits. Sometimes she tells me I am too skinny, but this is just her being a mother and not used to my runner body.
Dear Brittany, When I wrote this article, my brain specifically questioned of how YOU would react to it. You’ve always demonstrated such extreme interest in my “How Gwendolyn saved me articles…” so I am very conscientious about my writings for young girlfriends like you. Entertainment aside, it is girlfriends like YOU who I want to read my writings because it is girlfriends like YOU who are prone to entering into the disgusting bulimic cycles. Imagine that you stop running for a month just because (injury, exhaustion, what have you), and you gain a few pounds. And then you eat a few slice of cake. Does purging cross your mind? I AM SURE that it does. So that’s why I write – to discourage the purging. I heart you with all of my heart! :) xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Although I understand that you appreciate your Mother’s approach towards your weight gain at the time, I do think perhaps she could have broached the subject a little more sensitively, simply because I personally would find a comment like that quite hurtful, and the resultant weight loss to be motivated by self-hatred rather than self-improvement (and thus more difficult to sustain because the flipside would be bingeing and/or overeating as some kind of punishment mechanism – gaining weight becomes equated with disappointing loved ones and when we already believe ourselves to be a disappointment, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Although I think I’m now projecting and telling my story, not yours!)
Therapists recurrently tried to blame my Mother for my binge eating disorder and compulsive overeating because one of their theories was that I was eating ‘for both of us.’ As in, I was eating in the hope that if I ate enough somehow my Mum would vicariously become well again. There were many others, but the general idea was that because of my Mum’s anorexia, my BED/COE was inevitable. Well, I said and still say ‘bullsh*t’ to that because I am damn well responsible for my ED, and no-one else. I eat to cope with anxiety and feeling alone in the world, and sometimes through downright greed. If I was like my Mum I’d be anorexic, not some huge fat whale. I feel even more of a failure when compared to her because I do think ‘if I had to get an ED, why the Hell couldn’t I have the same disorder as her, the same drive, the same willpower?’ I know anorexia is not willpower, but when you compare it to the disgust and indignity of BED and COE, it most certainly seems like it is.
I really hope you’re feeling less alone now – I’m so sorry I missed that post. For some reason I don’t see your posts in Reader until several days after they are published so I’m just going to check the blog every day from now on.
xxx
You are SO not alone. When considering my options for my new safe place to live, I thought, “Perhaps Jessica shall be entertaining of becoming London flat mates!” That, of course, would require your extreme acceptance of an American turned British Gwendolyn (although I think she’s ALWAYS considered her regal self to be British)… But, believe me, you are NOT alone. You have your parents. I have my sister Stephanie. And I also consider Françoise and Sonja and my ‘cousin’ Aimee to be “support” as much as I hate the word “support.” :D
I think that your series of therapists have been bullshit and that your issues can be resolved a whole lot easier.
With a dog. A German. Or a Puggle. :)
I heart you. :)
Just saw this mention of my name. Made me happy, I had to say it. Yes, consider me your support. You are mine, too, in more ways than you think.
;)
I don’t even know what to say but thanks. I am so happy that you like me! :)
It’s odd how sometimes certain memories are so vividly embedded in our brains that we can remember nearly every detail The only thing I didn’t understand about this post is when you said: “My body and mind settled for that piece of cake; and my perfectionist tendencies drove me overboard into pizza, ice cream, and Reese’s peanut butter trees, every single time.”
How is going overboard into pizza, etc., part of perfectionist tendencies?
Lindsay, your question is so perfect because to a civilian, my statement would absolutely make no sense. For me, perfectionism = going overboard, being the best, trumping everyone else. So, if I was going to fuck up my diet with a bit of cake, I was going to fuck it up all the way. I was going to eat all of the ‘gorgeous’ cheesy sugary things that I otherwise deprived my body from experiencing. I was going to eat more than anyone. And I did.
This does make more sense, when phrased that way. Thank you.
You are very welcome. It was my pleasure to answer!
I love love this post. I can’t tell you how long it took me to dress for the body I had rather than the body I wanted. It wasn’t till a couple years ago that I stopped buying “goal jeans” and just dealt with the size I needed to wear.
As far as how my mother plays into my eating that is a very complicated answer. When i was growing up it was my father that made all the eating-related comments, and played a large part in the development of bulimia. But my mom never tried to stop the comments. Now, don’t get me wrong, I adore my mother, she is honestly one of my best friends. BUT a food example she is not. Now that I am back home for a time, my dad makes those food comments towards her. It drives me insane because if he even attempted to say something to me about food I jump right down his throat. But my mom is now the person I look to as a what not to do example. She swears she never talked about wanted to lose weight while I was growing up, but she most certainly did. And now she grabs on to every food guideline that I make (although I don’t actually tell her what they are), but by the end of the night she is snacking on anything in the house. She can’t be around candy/chocolate because she eats it without abandon. It is actually really hard to watch my mom at home because she talks a lot about how much weight she wants to loose, but never does anything about it. I had to find my own food guidelines and goals.
Precisely of why I could not live with my parents. My dad also criticises the hell out of my mother and always has done such. She takes it now because she says, “It’s just he and I” (since her daughters have all moved away). But in 1990 (I remember dates perfectly), for Christmas, he bought her a pretty size 8 dress with black buttons. At the time, she was buying size 10s, so they had the BIGGEST fight in the world. She claimed that he wanted her to look like a size 8. It was a MAD fight. She even threw a plant at him from the top of a very steep set of stairs (haha!). And, he suggested, rudely, in response, that she go on a diet. I was going on nine and never forgot his words.
My mother is small, but she does no resistance training. She was my yoga student for a while, and her body never looked better. But she claimed that yoga made her too hungry, so she stopped because she feared getting fat. My family is FUCKED UP all around when it comes to food. 3 girls + 1 mother + 1 father = a very fucked up house. It’s good that we all live separately because it makes it much easier to tolerate one another at holidays.
Sounds like your family is a lot like mine. Never shall I blame my ED on anyone but myself; but definitely the home contributes to one’s vision of what is right / wrong. And in my family, fat is WRONG.
I laughed at that ‘Buy bigger clothes. Or lose weight.’ sentence! It’s just the sort of thing I’d expect you to say. Perhaps objectivism is indeed hereditary! :D
Btw, those photos of you? It is SO hard to believe that they’re the same person. In fact, in the leftmost photo, you appear so thin, it seems like someone stretched the photo. It’s hard to believe that they’re both YOU (when I look at your current photos – speaking of which, we haven’t seen your sexy legs in a while ;))! Especially since the hair is so much different too.
One thing that I did not understand was – “… and my perfectionist tendencies drove me overboard into pizza, ice cream, and Reese’s peanut butter trees, every single time ” – how could your perfectionist tendencies make you binge? Were you trying to become perfect at eating? (lol – but on a serious note, no offense intended!)
As for your question: my mother plays a minor role in my eating because she nags and I ignore. I think that her system works for her best, and that my system works for me best. Her insistence on me following her system is therefore a little annoying. And while I understand that I’m not paying enough attention to my diet (her fears aren’t unfounded), it is more due to negligence than ignorance.
Girlfriend, Just like civilian Lindsay, you have questioned about my perfectionism as related to bingeing. So I shall quote my reply to her: “For me, perfectionism = going overboard, being the best, trumping everyone else. So, if I was going to fuck up my diet with a bit of cake, I was going to fuck it up all the way. I was going to eat all of the ‘gorgeous’ cheesy sugary things that I otherwise deprived my body from experiencing. I was going to eat more than anyone. And I did.”
You shall totally see my sexy legs come February when Kitchen Yoga resumes. Until then, I am slowly working back to my acceptable show-off place. Maybe I shall release legs sooner than later, but right now, 9th of February is my target. My 31st Birthday. :)
It is, indeed, SO HARD to believe that I existed at that weight. I was 89 pounds, my lowest ever. That photograph was taken on the day before I became bulimic. In the book that I’m writing, a write much about those last few days. And of the SNAP. Snap being the crossing of the border from anorexia to bulimia.
I’m glad that you’re not a socialist and that you don’t accept your mother’s insistence on eating like she does. By the way, what does that involve?
Oh, I think I understand somewhat.
You know what’s a great way to cross over to the other side of 30? By feeling Fabulous about yourself and I’m glad that that’s what you’re planning to do! Love and luck, Nicole. :*
P.S. On 5th January, I’ll cross over to the other side of 20! :O
In case you don’t want to divulge details of your Snap and you’d rather that we read it in your book, what common reasons have you found among fellow anorexic-turned-bulimics for their snap? Does the temptation to eat take over one day?
Well, my mother is of the opinion that three full, heavy meals a day is healthy. I am of the opinion that I can’t eat a heavy meal, and that I’m rather better suited to eating small meals throughout the day. Her system is about eating a proper meal, my system is about not feeling hungry.
Birdie,
I think that your eating system is marvelous.
I furthermore think that you are much wiser beyond your years. You and Brittany of BlissfulBritt have earned my respect. Young girls with great minds.
As for your question regarding the SNAP point? I shall be featuring it next week, in its very own article. Congratulations. ;)
xoxo
‘I furthermore think that you are much wiser beyond your years.’ – I’ve been told that before. :)
But ever since I had a wisdom tooth extracted, my family and friends have been making a lot of jokes at my expense -.-
‘You and Brittany of BlissfulBritt have earned my respect. Young girls with great minds.’ – Hah, thanks! And now I’m all curious about Brittany. You’re a good blog publicist ;)
my mother grew up fat an unhappy. Her father was a con man, who scammed the wrong persons, having to flee, leaving her mother with three children an a lot of debt. My mother and her brother and sister were sent to an orphanage because my grandmother didn’t have enough money to pay for their upbringing. Until she remarried. The children came home again, but she had remarried a monster. I cannot bring myself more to right on that subject (nor is it my story) but my mother started to hate herself, deemed herself a big fat good for nothing (sounds familiar?) Well, I told you all about my grandmother, needless to say she wasn’t exactly helping, but constantly reinforced my mother’s ideas of not being good enough. But then one day when she was 18 she met a boy. A broken boy, just as she was. He was the son of a violent alcoholic father an mother grown harsh and bitter being married to that man. His mother only found peace in opera and literature. My father inherited her love for opera, I her love for literature. They fell in love. They never really dealt with their aching childhood memories, but they went to live upon another plain, somewhere they could just be without dealing. This however meant that the feelings of self-dejection remained. When my mother got pregnant, she swore not to make the same mistakes her mother had, she swore me nor my brother would ever feel bad about ourselves. So she glorified all we did. We could do no wrong. Especially me, the youngest, the one that got sick at age 8 and had to have a life-threatening operation, I was her little goddess.
Looking back I feel like I must have picked upon her feelings of self-hatred and copied those from my mom-rolemodel on the one han, while on the other I felt how redeeming being the centre of attention could be, playing that hand anyway I could imagine.
Just to be clear: it’s not her fault, but my own. I can see this mechanism for what it is and I still can’t rid myself of it. That makes it my own responsibility.
Jessica’s comment brought back some of those unhappy memories of being a little chewtoy in the hands of so called specialists. We have 2 big names when it comes to ED counselling in Belgium. One of them just this past month, was accused of the sexual abuse of some of his patients, which he partly confessed, but claimed that both parties agreed. So I visited the less evil one :-) The other one repeatedly pointed his finger to my father, who was a small independent truckdriver, who was away from home a lot. And for mr. big shot therapist my ED was as simple as that, I wanted my daddy to give me more attention…grrrr. It’s only because I have a therapist who I truly admire and respect now that I still promote therapy as helpful for some.
I love my mother. I love my father. Thank you for reminding me.
XX
Sonja.
Wow.
I would PAY to know the rest of your story.
I read what you’ve written like I would read the words of an Indie novel. (NOT a Pulitzer prize winning novel because I find most of those to be rubbish – And pun NOT intended with Indie, but it fits superbly, no? Ja ja).
Wow. Again!
I’d just like to hug you! Not because I feel sad. Not because I feel happy. Just because I feel. And that is rare. Your comment has prompted me to feel so much.
I appreciate and adore your friendship. Forever.
I’m so glad you chose to comment here on that fateful day that we became immediate friends.
Hoping to meet your mother and father someday to thank them for you. Love. :) x x x
right more on that subject = write, duh
Thank you for being a perfectionist. :)
this makes me blush. Altough my story is far from compelling. My mother is a true heroïn, not me. She would love you immediately as someone that cares for me, although she does not speaks English, perhaps a bit of French :)
Sonja, the language barrier is perfect because I’d rather sit in silence with friends, drinking wine, than sitting and talking.
Silence is Golden.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyH5lnxtH_A
Bet you love this song, too. :)
Hi Nicole! I find this to be a very interesting story and was hoping to discuss further with you via a private e-mail. My message is a little lengthy for the tiny box that pops up from your e-mail icon, so was hoping you could provide me with your e-mail address.
n@nicoleandgwendolyn.com :)
Ma petite Nicole. :) Wow, it took me a while to figure out what to write. Mothers and daughters: probably the most complicated family relationship on earth. Lots of LOVE and lots of hatred sometimes. My mother is EVERYTHING to me and when and if one day she is not with me any more, I will have a hard time making sense of life.
My mother definitely has been a trigger for me to want skinniness, but not in anything she said to me. She never ever commented on my appearance. I come from an Armenian family where women are regarded as “baby procreate-rs”, children-bearing beings. I have always hated this aspect of the “woman”. In fact the biggest turnoff for me is a man who wants to “knock me up”, or have children with me. I think of myself as Life, Love, but I don’t think children are the exclusive way to reach that goal. I saw how my mother was treated by her brother(s) and father, and I slowly came to the conclusion that I was not going to be perceived as a woman, so I would not be bullied the way she and my grand mother were. For me, becoming like a young man in my appearance (no hips, no breasts, small thighs) was going to be a protection. And it was… Well, at least, I thought.
Other triggers in wanting skinniness were my friends and my sister. I always was super skinny growing up, and at the age of 18, started changing in my body (late puberty). My sister would call me “fat” (and I used to call her “fat” too). Her comments were a huge trigger in me deciding that nobody was ever going to call me fat ever again. And I started restricting. For 18 years. Stopped in 2003.
Tough subject to discuss. This is why I love your blog and I love you.
Francoise
To my lovely friend Françoise,
This morning, around the 3am hour, I awoke to your comment, and it made me so happy that I was forced to retire to another unscheduled two hours of slumber before approving in the moderation queue. I just needed to breathe and to think about it, before making it go public because I wanted for it to be exclusively mine, for just a little longer, before sharing it. You have given me so much to think and to wonder about.
I have nothing of value to add besides that you must know, when life is taken from your mother, you shall not find trouble with making sense of life. You shall have friends by your side to help you, me being one of those friends.
I love you.
xo
Nicole
My mother never did/doesn’t really play a role in my eating, but when I first started calorie counting, I no longer wanted her to cook anything for me since she used oil in stir frys, etc. and I didn’t want to have to worry about counting those calories. She knew I was calorie counting, and even used it as an excuse when she told my sister’s friends who were selling baked goods door-to-door that we couldn’t buy any because I was calorie counting…so embarrasing ><!
Oh dear! Your contribution to this article made me LOL! Ha ha! My mother, as a rule of thumb, never used oils in her stir frys because she was always calorie conscious, so I never had to deal with that. But, during those six months of anorexia, I did option to “eat” in the family room, away from the family, stuffing my pork chops and chicken into the couch sleeves, only to retrieve them and flush down the toilet at the 3am hour. Our poor mothers! That aside, I do now cook with oils. I think that adding back in healthy fats was the hardest challenge for me, and it took nearly a decade to do so. What is your experience with that? Have you yet added back in the healthy fats? Or do you still steer clear of that? xo
Oh yes, I have added healthy fats back in eating! I have since September :)
I practically have nut butter everyday in some form or another.
My mother has not really played a role in my ED but my father has in many ways. He is OCD/exercise obsessed/gets excited when he loses weight and was the one to point out when I did gain weight when I was young. I honestly believe that eating disorders and tendencies/weakness begin in the genes and I got mine from him. While now he is just happy to see me eating again and not the skeletor I once was, he still flaunts his obsessions in my face. Whenever he loses weight he gloats. Yammers on about how much exercise he did in any given day. While I don’t blame him for my ED per say, his behaviours most certainly affected me. Whether or not that is a good thing, I have yet to decide. I kind of like being obsessive.
M.! I talked to my mother this morning whilst walking two gorgeous dogs in the enchanted forest; and I directed her specifically to your comment because it could not have better summarised my relationship with MY dad. Our daddies absolutely have huge contribution into our fucked up eating and body requirements. Yet they don’t see it. They are so oblivious. Why are men so dumb? At least we have our pugs. They get it. :) xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
P.S. Do you miss eating fish? Because I miss you eating fish :)
Oh! Excellent question.
I miss it.
And then I don’t.
I like being super clean.
I think that the mercury was intoxicating my body. I mean, I started menstruating exactly one month after eliminating fish. Coincidence with my newfound astronomical reserves of fat? Who knows. But I do feel cleaner.
I don’t save any money, so don’t let that fool you. Daiya Shreds and Plant Based Meat cost more than gorgeous fish. You know that.
I love the taste of eel.
But taste is not why I eat.
I eat to nourish.
So I do think that vegan is the best diet for me.
Mwah!
I don’t know, I think the martinis are probably what was intoxicating your body.
The martinis have not gone away. :)
I’m so glad you’ve reached a point where you can stop caring about what others say about your body! I’m really jealous! Good luck at Christmas!!!