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____)))_.::f is for food::._ _ ___
*************************************************************************** 'There is such a thing as food and such a thing as poison. But the damage done by those who pass off poison as food is far less than that done by those who generation after generation convince people that food is poison.’
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Food, or, rather, the lack of food, was always fairly high on my list of priorities. During some periods of my life it would be thought about 99% of the time, there would be little room for anything else to sneak in. It was always tiring, but that was my life. It seems a contradiction, but while I was anorexic I was addicted to going without food. I wanted to eat, but the high at the beginnings of starvation was just too alluring. It made me feel special, knowing that I did not need food to live, while everyone else’s lives revolved around returning for meals and stopping for food. But my life revolved around food more than theirs did. I guess that food controlled me, although I was led to believe that it was the other way around, that I had strong self control. When I was starving everything became startlingly intense. A touch would echo through me with a shudder, every sound would be crisp and sharp, prickling my heightened senses. Textures would feel mystical; the feel of my cotton pillow tickling my skin, the feel of a sheet of paper, all would intrigue me. I felt a buzz, transcendent and pure. I loved the superior, smug feeling that I knew what it felt like to be starving. I felt clean and pure, not contaminated by the food I saw as evil. I was above eating, and viewed those who couldn’t diet with contempt and even disgust. I would be on a high, rushing around as fast as I could, trying to forget about the nausea. I guess I just wanted to waste away into nothing, starve to death. But there is a bad side to starvation, a fact that I tend to forget. Bad memories flit back to be slowly. I remember one day I was lying on my bed and crying- well really a false sort of shaking because I couldn’t really cry, perhaps I was just too dehydrated. I had just told my mum that I had already eaten when I hadn’t really eaten for days. My three year old sister came in and asked me what was wrong. I was too upset to stop the words pouring out: ‘I’m hungry and I can’t have any dinner’ I said. Mum came upstairs shortly afterwards and I just laughed and acted bewildered, as if I didn’t know what she was talking about. Whenever I sat up or stood up my head with spin or I would temporarily black out. Particularly in the morning when I would sometimes fall over on my way to the bathroom. I guess my body just started to shut down without enough food to keep it going. I was never really hungry, however much I wanted to eat. At times I would feel nauseous because I hadn’t eaten for a couple of days but I didn’t really feel hungry very often. A couple of sugar free polos would make me feel full. Any more than that and I would feel quite sick. I couldn’t even drink half a carton of orange juice without feeling bloated. After a while the thrill wore off and the euphoria disappeared. Here my control began to slip; the desire to eat sneaked in at the first sign of doubt. I knew enough physics to know the basic laws of gravity: what goes up must come down. And I came down with a thud. But by this time I was already addicted to starvation. And there was the added incentive of the weight loss. With every pound of fat consisting of 3500 calories, I could lose a half a pound a day, more with the dehydration as well. At first it was closer to two pounds a day, although, unfortunately, that couldn’t last. I despised food, the evil temptress who governed my every waking hour. I loathed the very sight of it, trying to lure me into its clenches. I hated its power over me, finding myself time after time returning from Church (often before the end) and shovelling into my mouth forkful after forkful of cold food. I didn’t know whether this would come under anorexia or bulimia, so I put it in here: I sometimes chew and spit. I eat and then, after chewing it, instead of swallowing, I spit the food out. I feel ashamed of that, although it’s probably better than throwing up, certainly is better for me healthwise. Still, I normally throw up afterwards anyway, just in case I accidentally swallowed any calories. |
