Mothers on Weight

I have an eating disorder. Online; this blog, tumblr, various forums, I don't hide that fact. I keep my anonymity, but it gives me the opportunity to be more truthful. If something goes wrong, it's easy to cut people or even whole communities out entirely. They don't know you in real life. I can be honest because there's no blow back.

Real life is different. No one knows I have an eating disorder. Not my family, best friend, or even my boyfriend. I have only ever told one person about my ED as myself. He was one of my closest friends, but our relationship ended in the worst way and we haven't spoken in over a year. I haven't ever lied to my boyfriend, but I avoid certain truths, speak in a way that doesn't quite give away everything or implies something else. Ever seen the show Once Upon A Time? Think Rumpelstiltskin.

I want to be honest with him, but it's just hard. He wouldn't understand and, even worse, he'd try to help me. I'm not sure I want help yet. In the years I've been struggling with my eating disorder, I've learned that unless I want to get better there isn't a shot in hell. I can't tell him that I'm basically starving myself to death and then just expect him to sit there and do nothing about it. That's not fair to him. In this situation, it's better he remain in the dark. At least for now.


This was going somewhere way back when I started, but I kind of went off on a tangent. Oops.

Anyway, my mother is pushy about my weight. I'm about 130lbs (I don't know, I haven't weighed myself in like two weeks because I've been on the worst binge ever that's half turned into recovery). I'm 5'5. This is a healthy weight. I'm not borderline overweight, nor am I too skinny. I'm just healthy. Sure, I could be fitter, but my weight isn't bad.

Still, it's not thin enough for her. She's always so concerned about weights. My father is overweight and she picks at him about it. My sister is a vegan marathon runner and tiny which my mother loves. My brother is a teenage boy and the scrawniest thing I've ever seen in my life. He's about five inches taller than me and probably weighs about the same as I do. He used to be underweight and I don't know if he is anymore, but he's definitely borderline. At the very least, the boy's just skinny. Yet that doesn't stop my mother from worrying about him "filling out" and gaining a little weight.

She told me once when I was in high school that she'd rather I be underweight than overweight. I've never been overweight in my life and honestly, unless you're talking morbidly obese overweight, it's probably more unhealthy to be underweight. Even if not, that's just not something you tell your fifteen year old daughter. Isn't there already enough pressure from the media and our peers to be thin without a parent going and saying something like that?

Again with the tangents. I'm so tired, that's probably way. Let's tie this all together real quick so I can flail about upset and then go watch a stupid movie or be needy/clingy at my boyfriend.

My lengthy binge has sort of evened out into normal eating habits. Weird part is, I don't hate myself for it. I mean I hate myself and I feel horrible and fat and guilty, but not like I usually do. I feel normal, almost. Like I can just enjoy myself.

Well today I ate a lot. Like, binge a lot. 3000+ calories probably. But it's Christmas and I was willing and able to forgive myself (!!!!!). That's a huge step for me towards recovery. We were kind of lounging around downstairs with my puppy this evening a few hours after dinner and I was kind of snacking a lot and grabbed a cookie.

My mother looks at me and says "A moment on the lips, forever on the hips".

A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.

What.
The.
Fuck.

Seriously.

What the fuck.

I don't even have words for that. I'm not fucking overweight. I'm in a healthy weight category. My BMI is good. Just because I'm allowed to think I'm fat and disgusting, but as long as my BMI is in a healthy range, everyone else had better keep their goddamn mouths shut. End of story. No comments, no little snide remarks about how I'm bigger than my siblings or I've gained. Nothing. Fuck you.

At the time she said this I was pissed and just sat there and ate the damn cookie. I told her I'd rather be fat and happy than skinny, hungry, and miserable. Which is true, but I'm currently fat and miserable so fuck me. Then I was still upset so I ate more cookies. And Christmas candy. And dried apples and a crap load of nonfat whipped cream. It was delicious.

But instead of feeling okay about eating like I was earlier, I feel like shit. I feel fat and disgusting and all I want to do is never eat again. Starve myself back down to my low weight. Lower. Reach double digits and keep going. Make her regret ever saying anything. Get myself locked up. Go crazy. Starve to death. I don't know. I'm already crazy, so halfway there, I guess.

Just fuck.

Fuck.

That was such a goddamn triggering thing to say. I wish I had the guts to call her on her bullshit like that. I cannot wait to go back to school and get away from her and the rest of my family.

Every bit of self esteem I manage to scrape together through my best friend and boyfriend, every drop is sucked dry by her and I'm left feeling lower than worthless. I don't even know how to explain things like that to the boyfriend. He always just tells me to ignore what my mother says and just be happy with myself because that's all that matters. It's true, but I already hate myself. I don't need anymore help.


I'm just really triggered and feeling lower than shit right about now. Don't have anyone to talk to. Feeling sorry for myself, mostly. Fuck her. Fuck her and her goddamn weight obsession. No wonder I wound up with a fucking eating disorder. Am generally not one to blame my problems on other people, but she's making this too fucking easy.