~Anya (Buffy the Vampire Slayer “Pangs”)
Would you like to wager what the most terrifying holiday for someone with a severe eating disorder is? Hint: It’s not Arbor Day.
Personally? I hate Thanksgiving. If I were actually doing the cooking it’d be a different story. I could participate, contribute, and thereby alleviate my guilt and not wanting to join the festivities. I could easily hide the fact that I do not want to eat anything because of the appearance of business in the kitchen. But do I get to? Nope. Not even a little.
I come home and instantly gain 15 pounds. Oh, not literally. My tape measure tells me I haven’t gained even a fraction of an inch. But the mirror reflects all the fears I had growing up. This is something many people do not understand. I actually see something that may not be there. My brain translates the picture of myself into what I expect to see. Mind over matter. What matters is what my mind believes though.
When I think of Thanksgiving I think: Obsession. Thanksgiving is a bulimics nightmare. It’s an entire day dedicated to food. Something that I spend way too much time pouring over, trying to avoid, punishing myself with, and purging my body of.
I would give anything to be able to enjoy the day with my family. I actually have one of those families where my parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, on both my mother and father’s side of the family… all get along. All like each other. All spend every holiday together. It’s like we fell out of a 1950’s sitcom. I would love to be able to kick back, grab a glass of Bailey’s, gnosh on all the goodies while catching up with the people that watched me grow up, and not worry about a couple holiday pounds. Can I? Oh hell no.
Holidays are a time where my family hasn’t seen me in months so I become the center of attention. I live a very creative lifestyle. I have a high profile occupation in ground breaking experimental physics. Everyone wants to know what I’m up to. All eyes are on me. All eyes are on the body that isn’t perfect enough yet, that has flaws that I’m still flattening out. All I want to do is curl up in bed, with the blankets pulled up over my head enjoying a Trazadone hibernation until the sun sets on this fateful day of dieting damnation.
Food is the enemy. This time it’s war.