Thursday, February 08, 2007

heavy

I finally did it.

I broke down. I.....after an entire life of going without....broke down and got cable. The premium channels. It's always been plug & play for me. Rabbit ears. Static. Cursing and frantically adjusting the antennae because the station decides to not come in....the one night "my show" is on. I know this will be to my detriment. But...it seemed like a good deal. And...I can always cancel it.

So....taking advantage of the plethora of crap, more crap and not-so-much-crap to choose from...I settled in on an HBO documentary the other night.

THIN

A documentary on girls & women that live a life of eating disorders. It follows their attempts to get help. Their attempts to cure themselves. Their...attempts.

A bitter pill to swallow.


Regardless...I made myself sit through it.

I watched intently. Horrified...by what these girls were doing to themselves. Disgusted...by the blatant disregard for their very own health. Angered...by their deceitful conniving ways. Disheartened...by the thought that I am not above this.

Eating disorders made its big invasion into my life at an early age. Starving. Purging. Over-exercising. Body-fat testing. Weigh-ins. It became a numbers game. A competition. And as athletes...WE (myself, my twin, my friends) had that competitive edge about us. None of us....were going to lose to a scale. I watched as it swallowed my twin...myself...my friends. We accepted it. We burried our heads. We succumbed to its beauty...its cunning...its guile. Slowly eating at us. Slowly wearing us down. By losing......we thought we were winning.

I purged. Hated it. Starved myself. But I like food too much. Then I found it. My very own personal poison. Exercise Bulemia. Calorie allowance...or in most cases restriction...based on calories burned. I could eat (so to speak) and purge...without sticking my fingers down my throat. And...burning calories was a no-brainer. Running & lifting in the a.m. before classes. Afternoon swim practices that exceeded 7000 yards. Six days a week. Yep....I had it all figured out...or so I thought.

It has since become a never-ending battle of internal dialogue. Thriving...subsiding...lingering...holding on. Fat days. Thin days. Stand-and-stare-in-the-mirror days.

An endless cycle of one day at a time.

One day at a time of eating healthy. Thinking healthy. Exercising...healthy. No more starving. No more purging. No more calorie allowances.

No more thin.

3 comments:

  1. Red...my best (and brutally honest) critic. Twenty years...has not been long enough.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This is something that has always broken my heart about you.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I got me a thin moustache. Pencil like.

    ReplyDelete