I just listened to a podcast where two women have just had a long conversation about how they have found the path of recovery from their ‘binge eating’ and ‘food issues’.
I just looked these women up on their respective social media sites and guess what?
They are both, thin.
Here’s what I have to say about that.
You have NO idea. NOT A FUCKING CLUE what it means to be a binge eater.
I am tired of these skinny bitches talking about how hard they have struggled with body image issues and yet they sit there, yakkin’ on about their respective ‘journeys’ to these bodies that are thin, tanned, toned and beautiful. Bodies that qualify them as worthy, of value and socially acceptable.
Give me a break.
Well I have a ‘journey’ for you and it belongs to a body that is NOT socially acceptable. It is socially reviled. And I have had to live in it since I was six years of age.
And despite my over 30 years of dieting, I have failed and failed and failed again, to change it. I am still failing.
As I sit here, hammering these words into my computer, I am three days into my latest and most desperate, attempt at control.
Today is Monday. I have eaten 3 boiled eggs since Friday. And in my opinion, that is 3 boiled eggs too many. I’m even embarrassed to admit to eating that much. I want it to be nothing.
Why? Because I am filled with such intense self loathing and DISGUST, I can’t even stand it.
I am so full of violence toward myself that denying myself food right now is the fucking least I can do.
I need to hit back. Because for 18 months I have been subject to the most devastating of blows. Relapse. One from which I cannot recover. And that’s what it is. A fucking blow. And this fast, is a reactive response to finally stepping on the scales I have been avoiding for months, to confront the damage.
Well, it turns out the ‘damage’ is a 35lb weight gain. I am in full blown panic mode. This is an emergency and I have to put out this fire. NOW.
35lbs!!!! And this is on top of a weight I was already unhappy with?
It’s just unacceptable. It’s a fucking disgrace. A humiliation and a fucking outrage.
The gluttonous fucking whore in me did this. For 18 months now, she has been in control. Ruining my life. Now I want payback and I want it to HURT.
As I sit here listening to these women talk about having gotten to a place where their food ‘isn’t perfect, but that’s ok’ and how they have learned to ‘eat intuitively’ (fuck off) and the classic ‘Now I just let myself eat what I want’… I think OH MY GOD.
What the fuck is it with these skinny cunts who think that they can lay claim to binge eating disorder? I don’t believe you. You do not have this disorder. If you can claim to be ‘recovered’, that is proof you don’t know what you’re talking about.
BECAUSE THERE IS NO RECOVERY. NOT FOR THE FATTIES.
If you are ‘eating what you want’ and you are not fat as fuck, you are not afflicted. I’m sorry. Not like this.
I’m tired of these skinny bitches laying claim to an eating disorder they’ll never know a fucking thing about.
I remember it in school, the girls who would make these big exaggerated displays of ‘having to go to the toilet’ after eating. They’d make sure to leave the insinuation wide open so that even the slowest of observers would make the connection and then run after them to ‘make sure she doesn’t puke’. Fucking attention seekers. They didn’t have eating disorders. They wanted everyone to ‘think’ they did. But they didn’t.
Want to know how I know? Because one of the central features of an eating disorder, is secrecy. It is a secret. You have to hide it. If you are ‘good at it’, eventually a drastic enough weight loss will alert others to there being a problem and give cause for concern.
But when your disorder is the kind that makes you FATTER, then YOU are the problem and there is NO concern. Just judgement, disapproval and the expectation that you will diet.
So you do. You diet. Again. And it’s fucking hell. Again.
So you learn how to tolerate ‘hell’ by developing the ritual of secret binges. But you don’t tell anyone about THIS part because, well then ‘it’s no wonder the diet isn’t working’. Everybody supports the dieter, nobody supports the binger. Nobody empathises with that level of weakness.
You don’t even empathise with yourself… why? Because if you’re fat, you don’t deserve empathy. Or respect.
That is a privilege afforded only to those who actually manage to get and stay, thin.
Oh to be that powerful.
Thinness, especially when it’s extreme, is the gold standard of eating disorders. They are worthy of the title, not me. Not the FATTY who’s pretending to be not all that interested in her lunch. Who is pretending to be 'full’ before finishing what's on her plate and who has been planning, since this morning, how she is going to fit a secret binge in before dinner.
She is the one who’s entire day revolves around the anticipation of this. For whom, the day is only endurable BECAUSE she gets to binge later on.
When you’re not looking.
So not finishing her lunch in front of you right now is a very important part of that. She needs you to notice how unconsumed she and her lunch, is.
But that binge will NEVER fill the void. Never. Not even if you do it for 18 months solid.
It'a a bottomless abyss.
Want to know what a weight gain does to someone for whom being fat is the worst possible thing a woman can be? A woman who’s entire existence, [bar those intoxicating, powerful times she fucking aced it, dropping 100 lbs and became an ‘almost normal’ size for 10 days], has been ‘the fat one’ all of her AND YOUR life?
Oh and by the way, you are welcome.
Us fatties know we exist only to serve as a reference point to others. A thing against which you can favourably compare yourself. This is our purpose, we know that.
I for one, resent it… so in my case, you are NOT welcome. I resent being something that appeases your vanity.
Wanna know what it’s like to wake up everyday in a body that betrays every weakness you possess? A body that enrages you by signalling to the world, ‘Hey.. the person in charge of me is pathetic, lazy, gluttonous and weak.”?
Every waking moment is an exercise in crippling anxiety and shame.
And it is a torturous game to fight it. To suppress every fucking instinct in your body to eat.. to eat compulsively, violently, hopelessly, endlessly. To suppress and deny the always urgent and dire need to numb your distress. To serve another tour of dieting in the endless war of force. That ‘this body’, submit to the one thing that will redeem it.
Power being the operative word.
Oh to be powerful. Not Pathetic.
‘Recovered’ my ass. Go fuck yourself.
::: DISCLAIMER :::
While I realise my claim that 'skinny people cannot be recovered binge eaters', is irrational, I wrote this in the throes of disordered thinking. This 'opinion' is reflective of the condition (ED) as experienced by me and not fact. In my desperation to be free, I am currently practicing the denial of secrecy around my condition and it's thinking. This is an exercise in exposing the demon that lives in my mind.
So please, do not try to argue or talk sense to my condition. It will find you and it will eat you.