7 years, 11 months after becoming Anorexic.
7 years, 5 months after swapping Anorexia for Bulimia.
3 years, 6 months before ending Bulimia.
11 months before adopting Gwendolyn.
Anger. Ugliness. Yet a shining light of my pretty philosophy to come.
Today, I no longer blame ‘society’.
I only blame myself.
But I don’t dwell on it.
And with this blog, I’m accomplishing my goal of affecting people.
Of making others think.
Six years ago, this was me.
Six years ago, as a Bulimic, I wrote this.
— Eight years. Think of what one can accomplish in eight years. Members of my high school graduating class emerge from the grand world of academia with Esquire attached to their names. With PhD. With husband. With wife. With fabulous careers. And I am angry! Lord help the world if our leaders of tomorrow are these beer-pong playing, mommy and daddy wallet squeezing imbeciles that I observe through public databases such as MySpace. I am confident that if previously termed “imbeciles” are reading this novel, then they are visiting a dictionary to discover the meaning of the noun that I have entitled to them. Or perhaps they shall question fellow Harvard alum to discover the meaning of life as pertaining to imbecile. It must be lovely to enjoy a life of relaxation and grand salary.
How does this apply to me? As I scavenge the MySpace pages of these imbeciles and of others that have touched my life, the perfectionist in my soul screams that I need to self-validate. I need to do something of value. I have no identity other than Bulimic. I must find myself. I must authenticate why society and family consider my life an utter fuck-up, and I must, whilst doing so, raise awareness about eating disorders.
Why now? Why does this compelling need exist to express my thoughts and feelings whilst divulging the gory details of my past? I simply feel that it is time. I have experienced more in my life through the past eight years of pain and suffering than could anyone imagine. Pain and suffering. Hm. Shall I beckon academic comrades of paragraph one to represent me in the case of Nicole v. Society: the eating disorder and correlating events that you inflicted to me?
Can one sue society?
When this book succeeds, I expect to receive mass criticism; and for that, I do not care. I am a perfectionist with recessed Anorexic and Bulimic qualities, at least on this day. Ridicule as you may. Experience it firsthand, and you shall laugh no more. I realise that others exist with more distressing problems than mine, but society has stolen my soul; and I must do something about it. I must work against the system which is society. Society created my eating disorder, and society has locked me down. Society has apprehended my thought. Society has almost killed me.
Society prepares for attack through our early dance classes. It swoops and it dives during our middle school years where we toss the kindly packed, brown bagged lunches that our mothers innocently prepared. It then accomplishes the ambush during the spandex-outfitted high school volleyball games, continuing into the college years, never leaving the soul of the scorned.
Through this novel, I shall report whatever necessary to help the high school junior who is contemplating that prom diet. I shall help the young professional who leaves her family, when World War III is lost at home. I shall help the parents who’ve been through it and who shall watch their children suffer forever. I am here to help those who sit at their computers and scavenge match.com for a prince only to find that none exists because princes want to touch their princesses. Princesses with eating disorders do not want to be touched. Or perhaps the princess is giving it up like a whore because she wants for her body to be loved since she hates it so much herself.
I am here to open the backdoor to the life of the eating disordered. Seven years ago, one year into my suffering, when I realised my problem, I thought that I would one day be the savior to young ones with eating disorders. I would repair myself and correct the problem, write about it, appear on Oprah, and be the savior to a nation of the inflicted. It has taken much too long. And now I am ready.
Don’t waste your well-earned money on the garbage that appears at bookstores. This dramatic and completely true account of my life shall provide the necessary counsel for dealing with eating disorders. Take note to the phrase of “dealing with.” I will not and cannot provide a cure to the problem. It is my belief system that an anecdote, whether it be physical, mental, or drug related, does not exist. An eating disorder remains with the inflicted throughout a lifetime. I simply intend to provide counsel to soften the effects so that life is bearable. Liveable. Manageable. Keep open your eyes, and keep open your heart. And please enjoy my novel. —
How has your thinking shifted, regarding your eating complications?
© Nicole Marie Story Enterprises, LLC and nicoleandgwendolyn.com, 2011 – 2013.