To Her

August of '89--I was sitting in a waiting room at the University of Kentucky Eating Disorder clinic with a fellow Anorex-ite. We were talking in low voices-afraid that the nurses would overhear us. She said, ''My mother yelled at me--' How can you do this to your dad and me?! ' '' Anorexics are already guilt magnets--feeling responsibility for Everything that goes wrong with Everybody. Somewhere in your upbringing someone dropped the ball. How could she do that to them? How could THEY do that to HER?

Shit-For-Brains

Those with shit-for-brains will tell you, ''You don't survive Anorexia--you survive Cancer, you survive a Heart attack.''  Gee. Lemme think.  When you re-gain bone after being told if your leg bumps a table it will snap--I THINK YOU'RE A SURVIVOR. When you can walk again after dissolving all the padding on the bottom of your feet and setting your foot nerves on fire with neuritis--I THINK YOU'RE A SURVIVOR.   When you can hold a pen again after your fingertips split open--I THINK YOU'RE A SURVIVOR. When you can sit down without feeling your tailbone punch through your skin--I THINK YOU'RE A SURVIVOR. When you can dismiss your own voice and the voices of others who told you that there are conditions that must be met before you can be loved--I THINK YOU'RE A SURVIVOR. I've just never heard of surviving shit-for-brains. Sorry 'bout your luck!

Brace For Impact

This blog is about being in the pit of anorexia and coming up out of the pit. Some of those who have never suffered from this disease will not begin to understand the mindset that I have described--although we are all in the grip of some form of addiction--even those of us who can NEVER admit it. But we don't care about them -- do we? The strange, graphic conditions that I write about are written for those who ARE suffering from this disease or HAVE suffered from it. Those in the pit now may not be ready to consciously admit that their life is slipping away---but in their deepest heart--they know it.  I did.  They simply know no other way to live. It is the last vestige of control. I understand. I am here to tell you-that you CAN live another way--that your life is NOT a crashing plane where you hear the words, ''Brace for Impact.''  You can battle this disease and win--It is not easy--getting well does not make everything magical---but you can get well and NOT BE FAT--which all of us in the anorexia kinship knows is code for, ''I can control parts of my life--and the parts I can't control do not mean I'm not valuable as a human being.'' For the people who love anorexics-maybe this blog will help you to help them--and for those of you who find this disease just too bizarre--look in the mirror.

The Leper Look

Remember all those P.I.G.S in high school who wouldn't talk to you ?  ( popular-inept-girls) Several years after graduation I saw some of them--and they were FAT.  Just can't keep that food out of your mouth -can you, popular girl? But I could. Anorexia gave me power over those hateful bitches--you have failed ,popular girl--and I have not. All those years of giving me the ''leper'' look in high school has not kept your ass small. And once again--starvation convinced me that he could be the substitute for SO many things. Acceptance, kindness, approval, love -- even life.

Dessert First

State-Journal.com - A hunger for meaning

State-Journal.com - A hunger for meaning

Feature in Sunday's paper.

Starvation the Consummate Lover

When my period stopped in 1977 it thrilled and terrified me.  Thrilled because it meant I had reached the status of not having enough body fat to sustain a menstrual cycle and terrified because a tiny, low voice said, ''It's hurting you.'' And it was.
My bones began the happy process of leeching calcium out of themselves--preparing to snap. Yet I was only aware that I was freed from the longing to search for my Prince Charming and his penis.
Always afraid that I could never attract the self-validating presence of the mighty dick--Amenorrhea set me free.
Low hormones, no hormones, whatever. I no longer worried that mr cock might never want me - no longer worried that he wouldn't love me enough to stand up and salute--making me a ''fulfilled woman''.
Instead of worrying about men--I stayed awake planning how many sit-ups would burn off the calories in half a cup of fat-free chocolate pudding.
The yearning for a man no longer existed for me--an alphabetized list of calorie contents--now that was SEXY.
I could look at a man like a piece of cold shit--my desire was less than zero. Oh, men were my friends--but below the belt--they bored me.
Starvation was my lover now. And although cruel--he gave me the gifts of an odd arrogance, a strange peace.
Starvation was always there for me--always accepting, never rejecting. He never said ,''You're just not pretty enough.'' He never promised to call and did not, he never rolled his eyes, he never ignored me.
Yes, he was definitely a dictator--making me serve time for every bite of food that entered my body. He could wake me at three am and force me to run in place for two hours. He could make me shake uncontrollably at the slightest breeze because I had no body fat left to insulate me BUT he always rewarded me with the feeling of control.
And this feeling was a million, zillion times better than any orgasm Prince Charming's penis could ever even hope to bring.
Starvation LOVED me and he ravaged me like the consummate lover that he was.