I had a conversation with a friend on an ED recovery forum about people who talk constantly about their diets. She remarked that it makes people feel good to say they’re on a diet. It got me thinking about that, particularly as it relates to women in American culture.

For women, deprivation and virtue are linked. Ever had lunch with a bunch of shape-conscious women? I have. If the other women ordered salad, I’d order one too—dressing on the side, please—and pick at it, when what I really wanted was a cheeseburger or a big plate of pasta. Always eat before a date; that way you won’t eat more than your date. You learn never to order dessert in restaurants. This, we’re taught, is “being good.”

Women in our culture are supposed to be pale, delicate, frail. We’re not supposed to be substantial or opinionated or passionate: that’s unladylike. Appetites—for food, for pleasure, for knowledge, for love, for expression—are discouraged.

Well, that’s not the kind of woman I am. Without my eating disorder, I’m small but not frail. I’m a former gymnast, and I study karate. I can break three boards with a flying side kick, and I took down a six-foot Marine because he told me I couldn’t. I can lift heavy objects and change my own tires. I have strong opinions on everything from the best science fiction writers to the importance of free ballot access, and I like to voice those opinions—just ask me sometime, when I’m not busy blogging. I’m an artist and a writer because I have things to say. I like filet mignon and macaroni and cheese and fried chicken and cookies and cheesecake.

I lost myself somewhere when I started buying into the party line of what the “Ideal Woman” looks and acts like. I believed my passions were wrong and bad, and my eating disorder was a way of dulling them. After all, when you’re passing out from low blood sugar or when you’re puking everything you eat, you don’t have the energy to be opinionated and expressive, and your passions give way to obsessions that make you more and more miserable.

Recovery, for me, is a sociopolitical statement of purpose. Eating, embracing my passions, allowing myself to desire—that’s my way, however insignificant and ignored, of saying, “I don’t buy into this propaganda of what I, as a woman, am supposed to be. I am me, and I’m okay that way.”

You’re you, and you’re okay that way too.

How It Happpens

I was looking at some pictures of myself as a kid and wondering I got from being the gorgeous little girl I used to be to a gorgeous woman who hated herself and took it out on her body.


Would you tell her she's too fat to eat anything today besides that apple? Eighteen years later, she'll believe it.


Would you want her to be afraid to eat cake? She will be terrified.


Would you tell her she is too fat to be a gymnast? No one will tell her that, but she'll scrutinize herself in locker-room mirrors and decide that it's true.


Would you want her to see these cookies as the enemy? She will.


Would you tell her she doesn't deserve to be taken care of? She already believes it.


Would you tell her she ought to practice karate for hours while starving? She will, even after passing out on the floor of the dojo.


Would you tell her that if she bought and ate any of that food, she should throw it all up? She believes it.


Would you tell her she needs to lose weight? She thinks she does, and she'll lose more than 40 pounds in the 6 months after this photo was taken.


What do you see in this picture? She sees a bulging belly, and she'll lose another 30 pounds.


Would you tell her she looks like a strong woman who could kick some ass? If she were honest, she'd tell you she hates how fat her thighs look, and she'd tell you her arms aren't skinny enough. She'll lose 30 pounds after this picture.


Would you tell her she looks sick? She weighs 98 lbs at 5 feet 4 inches tall, and she will lose another 3 lbs before she finally decides to start turning things around.

But she is turning things around now.

Esprit d'Escalier

I wish I lived in a world where people just didn't make comments about other people's weight or bodies. Unfortunately, I've never heard of a society like that, so I have to deal with the unsolicited comments when they happen.

I'm one of those people who are extremely talented at coming up with the perfect witty comeback 30 seconds after the person walks away. The French have a term for that, esprit d'escalier, and it's the story of my life.

There was the time when, at a party, a friend of the family led me into the kitchen and said, "This is your refrigerator. It looks like you forgot where it was," and I thought later that I should've taken an obvious look at his belly and said, "Doesn't look like you've forgotten." Or the older woman at my church who exclaimed loudly one Sunday, "You're losing so much weight I hardly recognize you," to whom I wished I had said, "Maybe you're just going blind in your old age." There was even my former doctor. My therapist sent me to see him for a physical because she was concerned I might keel over in her office. I was at an extremely low weight, and I gruelingly forced myself to tell him all the specifics of my eating disorder. He ran some tests and told me the results--which were cause for serious concern--but the only medical advice he gave me before sending me on my merry way was "You should probably eat more." I lay in bed that night and mused about how cool it would've been to say, "Gee, ya think? How many years did you have to go to med school to figure that one out?" As you might have noticed, I spend a lot of time critiquing myself for standing in stunned silence when I get these comments instead of having a snappy comeback.

But I really don't want to be the girl with all the snappy comebacks if it means being the kind of person who has to degrade other people to make myself feel acceptable. I don't want to repay one snarky, rude comment with another. I want to live in a world where everyone truly believes they're okay just as they are, so I feel it's my obligation not to tear other people down. If that means I look like an idiot with nothing to say, then so be it.

Though if anyone has any snappy comebacks that aren't at other people's expense, I'd love to hear them.

Substance

I want to be a person of substance

My name is Sara. I'm 21, and I have an eating disorder. I've been struggling with anorexia and bulimia for the last 7 years. I could try and convince you how sick I am with numbers--weight, BMI, purges per day--but numbers are a poor measure of both distress and happiness.

I'm in treatment, and on good days I'm even in recovery. I still engage in eating-disordered behavior, sometimes on a daily basis, but I want to stop. I want to change the behaviors, but more than that, I want to change the crazy thoughts behind the behaviors. I suppose figuring out how to do that is going to be a trial-and-error process.

I am trying to build a life worth recovering to. I am struggling to relearn who I am and what I want. I am trying to make myself a person of substance.

I'm usually not a fan of writing that says, "Webster's Dictionary defines 'substance' as...," but I found a definition that I really like:
(1)That which underlies all outward manifestations; the permanent subject or cause of
phenomena, whether physical or spiritual; that which is real, in distinction from that which is
apparent; the abiding part of any existence, in distinction from any accident; real or existing
essence.
(2)The most important element in any existence; the characteristic and essential components
of anything; the main part; essential import.
(3)Body; matter; material of which a thing is made; substantiality; firmness.
That, my gentle readers, defines "substance." That is what I want to be--and what I want to believe that I am. Someone who takes up space (the way she was meant to!), someone who matters, someone who impacts the world around her. That is what people are supposed to do. Somewhere along the way, I started believing I was the exception to that. I was taught that I was not supposed to exist, and I swallowed that lie. It's hard to undo your belief in a lie you've bough into for most of your life, but that's my goal.

I want to be a person of substance. I don't know how exactly I'm going to get there, but I believe that I can.