Reasons why I should not eat right now:
1.) I'm a disgusting, fat, ugly cow.
2.) I'll be a fat bride if I don't cut the shit.
3.) I know where the edge is, and I'm not even close.
4.) Lily. Collins.
5.) If I put off eating now, when I finally eat tonight with the hubby, I'll be able to relax more and food always tastes better when you're extremely hungry.
6.) No one likes a chubby stoner.
7.) You think food will make you feel better. Less uncomfortable right now. But, it won't. You'll just be fat sad instead of skinny sad.
8.) The bites you put into your mouth will not quiet the voices inside your head. In fact, other voices will just start screaming if you do eat, and that's even worse.
I hate food.
I was horrified yesterday. I was horrified today. Food horrifies me. Not in like a scared-of-it way (though that's also somewhat true), but in a disgusted way. When people discuss eating some giant meal (like "we shared a pie and Chinese food") or what some "delicious" dish has in it - fat and sugar and disgusting calorie counts... I cringe. When some obese person gushes over the description of a dish, or calories are discussed in an "I didn't even look" capacity, or someone jokes about "getting their vegetables" in the 2 spears of asparagus on their plate, my stomach lurches. I squeeze out a "heh heh," and wonder if my face reflects any part of what I'm actually feeling inside. I laugh along with everyone else, but inside I want to vomit.
I hate that I have to eat. That food exists. I hate that it hurts so many people but without it, you die. I think food is a terrible thing to have to endure our entire lives. Endlessly, day in and day out, planning it and buying it and preparing it and consuming it. For decades of our lives. Thousands and thousands of meals. Thousands of decisions I don't ever want to have to make, but I do. I'm forced to whether I eat well or badly or indifferently. It's the worst chore in life to have to eat. I don't love food. I hate it.
And sometimes, I hate people who love it. I think because I don't fucking understand how you could openly say some things and not hate yourself. How can you love food so much you would talk about it?? And how do you not hate yourself for, first of all, the fact being true, and second of all, saying it out loud to other people, like that's acceptable behavior? Even if I did love food, I would not speak a word of it to anyone ever. I would bury that fact so deeply inside that no one would ever guess. Because they can already look at my body and see my relationship with food. Some things are better left a mystery; not everything needs confirmation.
Every time someone talks about food, I feel a little panicked and nauseated. And I have to shake it off to have a socially acceptable conversation and response, but I think it's bullshit. Don't discuss food with me. I hate it.
I didn't eat in front of people until I was in college. I never went on dates, and my family never went out. In high school, every meal eaten in public was gathered lightly, tasted, and discarded. I didn't eat in front of people; I picked. And only when necessary. Week-long trips for school or competitions would result in 12lb weight losses because I was too anxious to actually eat meals all week. I wasn't even trying to lose weight at that point in my life. I just always hated the necessity of food... I wanted to be thin, but I was not devoted to the reality of the notion. I would enjoy those weeks and then go back to eating "normally."
I just always felt like people were looking at me and judging me - that's why I couldn't eat in public. I thought they must see my food choices and think to themselves, "Oh that's why she's fat. If she's eating this in public, I'm sure she eats WAY worse food in private! That explains why she's such a gross cow." I would try incredibly hard to be the one at the table eating the healthiest. It was out of fear. I remember once going to dinner with two other girls. I made the mistake of ordering first - the fish special with some carb as a side. The other girls ordered salads. I was horrified. I couldn't even think straight the whole meal, thinking of how I must look to them. I picked at my food and hated myself.
I've hidden food wrappers for indulgent things I've eaten my whole life. Shoved to the bottom of the trash can. Receipts destroyed. Hiding around corners or in other rooms to eat junk food. Junk food should only be eaten in the strictest of privacy. Not only for fear of judgement, but also in case a purge is necessary and all the details that process entails.
I think I have that fear of judgement because I pass it on myself. And if I'm honest with myself, I pass it onto others too. I try to stop myself, but I can't help it. It's my first thoughts. I know where these things come from. I know the messages I received about shame and food - from every woman in my household, but that doesn't change the message. It's still there, playing inside my head, and I don't foresee that changing.