<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441</id><updated>2024-09-04T21:31:03.297-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post-orexia</title><subtitle type='html'>a true account of my life after anorexia: the relapses, the consequences, the victories, and the defeats.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-1897976709815068569</id><published>2012-12-26T21:04:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-12-27T00:23:34.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>whether &#39;tis nobler in the mind to suffer.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
i&#39;m almost ashamed to post here, because it&#39;s been so long, and i feel i&#39;ve lost the right now. &amp;nbsp;like i&#39;m a neglectful parent and should give up custody of this blog to someone who will feed it regularly. &amp;nbsp;it&#39;s not that i haven&#39;t had anything to say; it&#39;s just that i couldn&#39;t be bothered to type it all out. &amp;nbsp;plus, it&#39;s embarrassing. &amp;nbsp;i feel horribly indulgent, like i&#39;m waving the banner of my sorrows for the whole world to see. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;send me your pity in a self-addressed stamped envelope!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;for a paltry 5 minutes a day, you can feel sorry for me!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i mean, really, i feel like a panhandler.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i wasn&#39;t busy, just ashamed. &amp;nbsp;ashamed to post, ashamed to NOT post. &amp;nbsp;aye, there&#39;s the rub.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
so this is Christmas. &amp;nbsp;or the day after, as it were. &amp;nbsp;but since.....Thanksgiving, at LEAST, and probably (OK, definitely) earlier than that, i&#39;ve been subject to a near-endless barrage of &quot;i&#39;ve got to start a diet,&quot; and &quot;we ate way too much!&quot; and &quot;that cupcake looks great, but i don&#39;t need it,&quot; AND &quot;let&#39;s just have salads for dinner--something&amp;nbsp;healthy!&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
and for some reason, today was just really bad. &amp;nbsp;yes, over the holidays we ALL ate too much. &amp;nbsp;ate a lot of sweets. &amp;nbsp;ate cheeses, creams, heavy sauces, etc. &amp;nbsp;and &lt;i&gt;i&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;have &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;been going to the gym! &amp;nbsp;and i don&#39;t miss it &lt;i&gt;at all&lt;/i&gt;! &amp;nbsp;i&#39;ve been enjoying myself thoroughly, sans (most of the) guilt, and i haven&#39;t been able to do that in a very long time. &amp;nbsp;i had more time to myself, i didn&#39;t stress about having to hit the gym before or after work, or on my days off when all i really wanted to do was sleep in and be lazy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
and i&#39;m eating also--not restricting myself to make up for the lack of exercise. &amp;nbsp;i&#39;m eating terrible things and not working out and i love it and i think i&#39;ve goddamn EARNED it after all the years of starving myself, working out for hours on end, degrading myself. &amp;nbsp;it&#39;s not all great--i&#39;m putting on weight at a terrible rate, and i had to buy bigger pants. &amp;nbsp;that was an awful blow, and i&#39;ve punched myself more than once for allowing such a slide into disgusting fatness. &amp;nbsp;it&#39;s not all great, but it&#39;s better than it&#39;s been for years.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
until.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i know the comments aren&#39;t meant to hurt; i know they&#39;re made innocently enough, even with the intent to deride the speaker herself. &amp;nbsp;but all i hear is that terrible voice that will always live in my head screaming at me because i&#39;ve failed failed FAILED and now i&#39;m fat fat FAT. &amp;nbsp;it tells me the comments really ARE directed at me. &amp;nbsp;&quot;&lt;i&gt;we&#39;re&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;going to the gym, are you?&quot; &amp;nbsp;no, my membership expired and i&#39;m trying to save money to get the hell away from.....everyone. &amp;nbsp;&quot;we&#39;re having chicken salads tonight because it&#39;s healthier.&quot; &amp;nbsp;i spent two years eating salads every night. &amp;nbsp;and water on my breakfast cereal. &amp;nbsp;and the salads got smaller and smaller and increasingly boring and now the thought of salad makes me want to puke. &amp;nbsp;and if you&#39;d eaten what i&#39;d eaten (so to speak) you&#39;d feel the same way. &amp;nbsp;&quot;there&#39;s some carrot sticks and cottage cheese in the fridge, if you want that for lunch.&quot; &amp;nbsp;after the two years of salad, and after what you thought was my recovery (joke&#39;s on you!)--even after i started putting on weight, and BECAUSE i was putting on weight--i redoubled my efforts. &amp;nbsp;woke up at 4:00 in the morning to do cardio for three hours. &amp;nbsp;ate nothing but cabbage, carrots, and fat-free sour cream (don&#39;t ask, i don&#39;t even know why). &amp;nbsp;starved myself like never before because the weight wouldn&#39;t STOP and i couldn&#39;t understand it, but had to stop it somehow.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
in the end, i know i only made it so much worse. &amp;nbsp;i haven&#39;t weighed myself in well over a year and it scares me to think of doing so. &amp;nbsp;i know i&#39;m fat--fatter than i&#39;ve ever been. &amp;nbsp;i&#39;m not happy with it, but i&#39;m enjoying life SO much more now than i was at 97 lbs. &amp;nbsp;it&#39;s a give-and-take. &amp;nbsp;but then i hear about someone&#39;s diet! and someone&#39;s weight loss! and it becomes give-all and take nothing. &amp;nbsp;i just feel bad about me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i&#39;ve been looking online for some support, like a list of what not to say around an anorexic, because that shit makes me laugh and smile and feel better. &amp;nbsp;kinda like my Jake. &amp;nbsp;but the lists i&#39;ve found are missing certain parts that i&#39;d like to see, so i&#39;ve made it my goal tonight to compile a list of &quot;what-not-to-say&quot;s based on my experiences. &amp;nbsp;some will be redundant, things you will find on any such list. &amp;nbsp;others are mine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;1. You look so healthy! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
if you know anything about the mind of an anorexic, you know that healthy=fat. &amp;nbsp;i don&#39;t want to look healthy, i want to look sick. &amp;nbsp;i liked it when you told me i needed to gain weight, because that meant i was too thin in your eyes and therefore, successful.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;2. You&#39;re not starving yourself again, are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
that&#39;s not a topic for you to bring up. &amp;nbsp;it feels like an invasion. &amp;nbsp;and it wasn&#39;t just &quot;starving myself&quot;--it was a whole mess of things. &amp;nbsp;how much or how little i eat is my business.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;3. I just want a salad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
maybe you do, but every time? &amp;nbsp;or you&#39;re at a nice restaurant and you get something as plain as steamed vegetables? &amp;nbsp;i just want the bacon-wrapped sea scallops and molten chocolate cake a la mode. &amp;nbsp;if you are a twig and order only kale and vinegar (what used to be my dinner every night), and i&#39;m seven non-budging sizes bigger than you and i order cream sauces and i-don&#39;t-want-to-know-how-much butter because it&#39;s a nice place and i enjoy real food--how do you think i&#39;m going to feel about myself? &amp;nbsp;i feel like an out-of-control slob, that&#39;s how. &amp;nbsp;i feel dirty and smelly and ugly. enjoy your greens (if you even do); i&#39;ll slather on some more self-loathing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;4. I ate too much/There&#39;s way too much food!/Do we really need chicken, broccoli, AND soup?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
you probably ate only half of what i did. &amp;nbsp;and you didn&#39;t eat at all the rest of the day. &amp;nbsp;even if i ate less than a normal amount, i still feel disgusting now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
yes, there is a lot of food here. &amp;nbsp;and now i don&#39;t want to be caught eating any of it because one bite=eating fucking everything. &amp;nbsp;i had one hors d&#39;oeuvre, but feel like i wiped out a buffet. &amp;nbsp;i can SEE that there&#39;s a lot of food--why do you have to announce it? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
and i thought the soup sounded good. &amp;nbsp;chicken and broccoli, just plain--that&#39;s not very fun to think about. &amp;nbsp;at least throw some rice in with that! &amp;nbsp;i thought the soup would be a nice addition, but now i&#39;m&amp;nbsp;berating&amp;nbsp;myself for even thinking of eating all that food. &amp;nbsp;thanks.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;5. I&#39;ve only eaten an apple all day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
i had eggs and toast for breakfast, a tuna sammich for lunch, and i&#39;m hungry for dinner now. &amp;nbsp;pasta sounds nice. &amp;nbsp;or, it did. &amp;nbsp;now i just hate myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;6. I&#39;m really not hungry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
well, i am. &amp;nbsp;again, i hate myself and feel like a failure because i&#39;m not strong enough to NOT be hungry when i don&#39;t eat. &amp;nbsp;&quot;i&#39;m not hungry&quot; is especially detrimental if it follows #5. &amp;nbsp;that&#39;s a 1-2 knockout to my self-worth right there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;7. I didn&#39;t think I&#39;d eaten that much, but the scale says otherwise!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
i can only imagine what the scale would tell me, then.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;8. She probably doesn&#39;t want any more than that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
maybe i do, maybe i don&#39;t. &amp;nbsp;again, how much i eat is MY business. &amp;nbsp;saying that makes me think i &lt;i&gt;shouldn&#39;t&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;want any more, or even any to begin with. &amp;nbsp;and if i know that someone is monitoring what i eat, that&#39;s almost as dangerous as outright telling me i&#39;m fat. &amp;nbsp;i don&#39;t want to be watched, because i know that you&#39;re ALSO judging me. &amp;nbsp;don&#39;t deny it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;9. You know, there&#39;s a lot of sugar in ketchup.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
i like ketchup. &amp;nbsp;ketchup makes me feel normal. &amp;nbsp;i know it&#39;s full of sugar. &amp;nbsp;i didn&#39;t ask for your diet tips. &amp;nbsp;i don&#39;t want them. &amp;nbsp;all that does is make me feel even &lt;i&gt;worse&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;about myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;10. Ugh, I&#39;m bloated and my jeans are snug.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
you wear a size 0. &amp;nbsp;i used to wear a size 0 also. &amp;nbsp;now i wear a size 9 and have an awful fear of outgrowing &lt;i&gt;those&lt;/i&gt;. &amp;nbsp;also, your jeans are NOT tight, you&#39;re just saying that to draw attention to how thin you are. &amp;nbsp;i know, because i used to do the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i&#39;m sure there are more things, but 10 is a good number and i&#39;m feeling about ready to wrap this up. &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;i&#39;m just &lt;i&gt;down&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;about myself right now. &amp;nbsp;i was feeling great earlier, until all this &quot;too much food&quot; talk around dinnertime. &amp;nbsp;and they ask what&#39;s wrong--they want me to talk to them about things. &amp;nbsp;but if i did, i KNOW that they&#39;d tell me i was being too sensitive (that&#39;s a laugh, coming from &lt;i&gt;them&lt;/i&gt;), that it&#39;s my own fault i have these insecurities--they&#39;d probably deny that i ever had an eating disorder, since i recovered so easily (except i still do, and recovery is a grey area full of ups and DOWNS, and it most certainly was NOT easy, i&#39;m just a good actress).....and they&#39;d tell me to grow up and get over it, that&#39;s life, sometimes people say things you don&#39;t want to hear, we&#39;re not going to change our behavior because you&#39;re getting your little &lt;i&gt;feelings&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;hurt.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
as i&#39;ve said before, i don&#39;t expect people to weave their lives around me; i just want a little compassion and consideration. &amp;nbsp;think before you speak--i do!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
no promises on the next entry, kiddies. &amp;nbsp;but this was nice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
love and peace in our new years!&lt;br /&gt;
Shaina&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;WARNING: PICS AND POSSIBLE TRIGGERS BELOW.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
This was me in March 2009.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKpK1gxseg90TuvPZyr-gX7R4iddCKe_vZ7lEJLOuxenfcbu-xrzw0JVXITxRKBf8MHhxJ7VtTVJgvAW-EBNDMh1FKWHVOeDKE9ZdO_cbOE022BIcavRJZXR3RS2sSA5VKTfo7Cyk0Dk/s1600/Photo+9.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKpK1gxseg90TuvPZyr-gX7R4iddCKe_vZ7lEJLOuxenfcbu-xrzw0JVXITxRKBf8MHhxJ7VtTVJgvAW-EBNDMh1FKWHVOeDKE9ZdO_cbOE022BIcavRJZXR3RS2sSA5VKTfo7Cyk0Dk/s320/Photo+9.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
and.....&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
This was me in May of this year (2012).&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilExV6Yk-RhnK8WMQpNPQcugOcfD_utLFDn2lASIZ-TGoAPPzVUTbhLJayxD2wP2rFVXJgPYk2Aybocrn7Bi6jUI5NKJq3rZXkriH9-SRRNPmThmUR1hh55SgB32RstJjfNCROwmgmU5Y/s1600/100_1978.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilExV6Yk-RhnK8WMQpNPQcugOcfD_utLFDn2lASIZ-TGoAPPzVUTbhLJayxD2wP2rFVXJgPYk2Aybocrn7Bi6jUI5NKJq3rZXkriH9-SRRNPmThmUR1hh55SgB32RstJjfNCROwmgmU5Y/s320/100_1978.JPG&quot; width=&quot;213&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
I think I look OK!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/1897976709815068569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/12/whether-tis-nobler-in-mind-to-suffer.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/1897976709815068569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/1897976709815068569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/12/whether-tis-nobler-in-mind-to-suffer.html' title='whether &#39;tis nobler in the mind to suffer.....'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKpK1gxseg90TuvPZyr-gX7R4iddCKe_vZ7lEJLOuxenfcbu-xrzw0JVXITxRKBf8MHhxJ7VtTVJgvAW-EBNDMh1FKWHVOeDKE9ZdO_cbOE022BIcavRJZXR3RS2sSA5VKTfo7Cyk0Dk/s72-c/Photo+9.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-6208135833939029039</id><published>2012-09-03T23:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-03T23:50:09.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tussin for the Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
So, wow.....I didn&#39;t think it had been &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;long since my last post. &amp;nbsp;I thought my last one was somewhere around the 13th or something, but this has been almost a month!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, I never promised weekly updates and the truth of the matter is that I just forget things. &amp;nbsp;A lot. &amp;nbsp;Even if I left this tab open all the time, after a few days I&#39;d get so used to seeing it that I wouldn&#39;t even notice anymore. &amp;nbsp;Once, when I was in high school, I wrote myself a reminder in big dark letters on red paper and hung it at face-level from my ceiling fan. &amp;nbsp;I still forgot it was there, and eventually was able to dodge without thinking.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Also, as I&#39;ve said before, I feel like there&#39;s not a whole lot for me to say. &amp;nbsp;Never mind the fact that I actually have about 30-40 ideas on a piece of paper somewhere; those just don&#39;t feel organic, and I believe that if I&#39;m going to have this blog, then it should be authentic and raw, not scripted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes I feel that if I don&#39;t have a lot of angst and self-loathing, I shouldn&#39;t bother writing here. &amp;nbsp;But that&#39;s wrong because this whole thing is about the bad days AS WELL AS the good. &amp;nbsp;And actually, I&#39;ve been having some good days. &amp;nbsp;Of course I still glance in the mirror when I take a shower, assess what&#39;s what--I think a lot of people do. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Side note: I&#39;ve noticed that having long hair makes me feel sexy in the shower. &amp;nbsp;It has a certain silky, clinging quality that makes you feel like a model in a shampoo commercial. &amp;nbsp;A sexy shampoo commercial.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m also still recovering from a nasty flu (seriously, not in recent memory have I been this sick--not throwing up sick, but a profound, aching, shivering sick that can only be fought with drugs and a lot of sleep), and though I feel 110% better &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;Monday evening as compared to &lt;i&gt;last&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;Monday evening, it&#39;s still not completely out of my system yet. &amp;nbsp;Needless to say, I haven&#39;t set foot in a gym since last Monday afternoon (where I think I acquired the bug in the first place). &amp;nbsp;I probably &lt;i&gt;won&#39;t&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;set foot in a gym for another few days. &amp;nbsp;And (I love this) I&#39;m TOTALLY OK with that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The flu knocked my on my ass and I&#39;m content to stay there a bit longer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
AND I still think I look OK. &amp;nbsp;One whole week off from the gym and I&#39;m not 800 lbs--who knew?! &amp;nbsp;I&#39;ve noticed something too, that during this whole thing I&#39;ve been eating a lot of very simple food: eggs, bread, cheese, milk, fruit, etc, and I feel good about myself. &amp;nbsp;I really like eating real food, not a lot of processed garbage. &amp;nbsp;I want to continue this as much as I can.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So there&#39;s my post. &amp;nbsp;Long-awaited, I&#39;m sure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I can never ever run,&lt;br /&gt;
Shaina&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/6208135833939029039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/09/tussin-for-soul.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/6208135833939029039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/6208135833939029039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/09/tussin-for-soul.html' title='Tussin for the Soul'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-7279633382224091414</id><published>2012-08-06T19:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-06T19:11:12.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>careless words can hurt me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
My stepmom is a lucky person who has never had to worry
about her weight a day in her life.&amp;nbsp; She’s
naturally thin, has been as long as I’ve known her (about 20 years now).&amp;nbsp; She eats well, works out, and generally
enjoys exercise.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
However, I have come to know her increasingly as a person
who unapologetically gives free reign to her thoughts, which more often than
not seem to tumble forth before much consideration for tact (or for nearly
anyone else) has been given.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I think it’s fine for people to have their opinions, even to
speak their opinions, but as I try very hard to be mindful of my company, I
expect at least that much courtesy from others as well.&amp;nbsp; It disturbs me that people speak without
thought, saying things that may harm or insult, and then when confronted with
their lack of discretion, they hide behind a blustering, “Well, I’m free to say
what I please—it’s your fault you’re letting it get to you.&amp;nbsp; I can’t control your emotions, that’s &lt;i&gt;your&lt;/i&gt; problem.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I have very strong opinions, and I give free range to those
online.&amp;nbsp; I rarely vocalize for fear that
I may insult, and I don’t wish to start fights; however, in the digital arena,
I feel safe to say what I want.&amp;nbsp; Of
course I’m still measured to an extent, but any one of my Facebook friends or
blog followers knows how rigid my convictions can be.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
My whole point here is that people should watch their words
a little more carefully, practice some economy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I had dinner with my parents last night.&amp;nbsp; It was like a mid-year Thanksgiving—we had
turkey, stuffing, and smashed potatoes.&amp;nbsp;
Don’t ask why—it was some wild hair my dad had.&amp;nbsp; I claimed a leg for myself, loving the
thought of biting right in (which I didn’t), and preferring dark meat over
white any day.&amp;nbsp; Dad had a thigh, Michelle
three thin slices of breast meat.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I don’t care about the breast meat—she always eats the
least-fatty thing she can.&amp;nbsp; What got me
was that she “couldn’t finish” her last slice.&amp;nbsp;
She had “two-and-a-half-slices too many!”&amp;nbsp; Are you kidding me?&amp;nbsp; After I’d eaten a whole leg, you’re gonna
claim to be full after a paltry couple of slices of breast meat?&amp;nbsp; And then later, we had chocolate pudding for
dessert (again, another wild hair), and I was just about to polish mine off
(totally engrossed in reading &lt;u&gt;The Bourne Identity&lt;/u&gt;), she proclaims that
she’s not sure she should finish hers.&amp;nbsp;
It was a tiny bowl of pudding, and she’s acting like it’s a 20lb
triple-chocolate cake!&amp;nbsp; This woman, who
has never strayed above a size 2…..she does this all the time.&amp;nbsp; Always claiming that she’s not hungry, even
though all she ate the whole day was a granola bar.&amp;nbsp; Or claiming that she’s stuffed after eating
half a salad.&amp;nbsp; Or that id she eats X, she’ll
have to go to the gym TWICE tomorrow, LOL.&amp;nbsp;
Now, she may truly not be hungry—some people just don’t have strong
appetites.&amp;nbsp; Some don’t care for
sweets.&amp;nbsp; But in the presence of someone
who has struggled her whole life with insecurities about her weight, who once
starved and punished her body to a skeletal 97lbs, and who suffers every day
with the knowledge that it all came back and &lt;i&gt;then&lt;/i&gt; some and it just won’t come &lt;i&gt;off&lt;/i&gt;—in the presence of that person, she can’t think to be a little
more considerate?&amp;nbsp; Because what I hear is
that voice in my head telling me how disgusting I am, that I ate too much, that
it’s no wonder I got fat.&amp;nbsp; &lt;i&gt;Thin&lt;/i&gt; people don’t eat so much.&amp;nbsp; &lt;i&gt;Thin &lt;/i&gt;people
make themselves go to the gym &lt;i&gt;every &lt;/i&gt;day,
not every &lt;i&gt;other &lt;/i&gt;day.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I don’t ask people to change themselves because of my
insecurities.&amp;nbsp; All I ask is the same
consideration I show them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Ever analyzing and ever yours,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Shaina&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/7279633382224091414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/08/careless-words-can-hurt-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/7279633382224091414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/7279633382224091414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/08/careless-words-can-hurt-me.html' title='careless words can hurt me'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-3566858792360729849</id><published>2012-08-02T21:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-08-02T21:04:59.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>standard seeking</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;
Sometimes I just want to know what
happens to people, in a broad sense, when they “recover” from anorexia, or go
into recovery?&amp;nbsp; Is there any clinical
evidence?&amp;nbsp; They have these books for
pregnant women, &lt;u&gt;What to Expect When You’re Expecting&lt;/u&gt;—I would like
something like that for current and former anorexia sufferers.&amp;nbsp; I don’t say former anorexics, because I don’t
believe there is such a thing.&amp;nbsp; But a
guideline of sorts, to let us know what we’re going to have to go through.&amp;nbsp; And so I’ll find myself of an evening
searching the interwebs for…..something.&amp;nbsp;
Something beyond anecdotes and individual stories.&amp;nbsp; And ever y time, I come up with nada.&amp;nbsp; Maybe I’m not looking in the right places,
but I wouldn’t think the answers would be so elusive.&amp;nbsp; I found something on AEDweb.org, “the
consequences of eating disorders (&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.aedweb.org/Consequences_of_ED/2856.htm&quot;&gt;http://www.aedweb.org/consequences_of_ed/2856.htm&lt;/a&gt;),
with its laundry list of adverse health effects as a direct result of the &lt;i&gt;disease&lt;/i&gt;, but not of the &lt;i&gt;recovery&lt;/i&gt;.&amp;nbsp; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;
But on my
hunt tonight, I did stumble upon a gem of an article from the New York Times, “In
Fighting Anorexia, Recovery Is Elusive” (&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/26/health/26anorexia.html&quot;&gt;http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/26/health/26anorexia.html&lt;/a&gt;).&amp;nbsp; It doesn’t have what I’m looking for; it
doesn’t have the cut-and-dry of “this is what recovery form anorexia looks like;
this is what is going to happen.”&amp;nbsp; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;
Hmm.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;
The article
asks if anorexics can ever be fully recovered, and the popular response seems
to be, no one knows.&amp;nbsp; Recovery form
anorexia can be likened to that of alcoholism: “the disease may be in remission,
but the potential for relapse always lurks in the background.”&amp;nbsp; Dr. Katharine Halmi, a psychiatry professor
at Weill Cornell Medical College in New York City, says, “About 50 percent of
people with anorexia will be able to reach and maintain a normal weight, but
most of them are very preoccupied with the calorie content of food.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;
This is why I
reiterate my stance on anorexia recovery being a myth, a nice story but not
something real or obtainable.&amp;nbsp; Not for
most of us.&amp;nbsp; Because anorexia is a
disease of the mind as well as the body (or even, the body because of the
mind), it’s up to the individual to determine what her normal is, how recovered
she is.&amp;nbsp; One good day will not
necessarily lead to other good days; likewise, one bad day will not result in
total relapse.&amp;nbsp; I wish I could unlearn
the calorie content of every food I eat, but that’s like trying to unlearn 1st
grade addition or how to spell my name.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;
I keep
chasing that rainbow,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;
Shaina&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/3566858792360729849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/08/sometimes-i-just-want-to-know.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/3566858792360729849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/3566858792360729849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/08/sometimes-i-just-want-to-know.html' title='standard seeking'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-5891206334731465447</id><published>2012-07-31T23:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-07-31T23:37:15.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>rituals and regret</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
when i said i was bad at keeping projects going, i wasn’t
kidding.&amp;nbsp; the problem, i think, stems
from the fact that i just don’t know what to say.&amp;nbsp; everything that i’ve experienced, &lt;i&gt;i’ve experienced.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp; that is to say, it’s old hat and unlikely to
be of any interest.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
when i began my initial recovery back in june 2009, i had
just started a new job working nights at petsmart.&amp;nbsp; i was also moving into a new apartment that,
to be honest, was only a mile and a half closer to work; it was a
14-mile drive one-way, though, so the move really didn’t make any difference.&amp;nbsp; i just wanted a change of pace.&amp;nbsp; over the next year, i would come to hate that
apartment and view it as a cage.&amp;nbsp; maybe i
was projecting my own unhappiness into my living space, i don’t know.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
anyway, on moving day my family came to help me, so that i
wouldn’t have to rent a truck or anything.&amp;nbsp;
and one thing that a few of them noticed was that i had a lot of food in
my apartment.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
to give some back story, i’d been laid off 3 months earlier
from borders, and had taken to buying food in bulk as much as i could.&amp;nbsp; i also bought a lot of vegetables, especially
carrots, and to this day i still feel a little weird about eating raw
carrots…..&amp;nbsp; cereal was one of the only
treats i allowed myself (eaten with about a tablespoon of powdered milk to
roughly ¾ gallon of water and some sweet’n’low every morning).&amp;nbsp; so when cereal went on sale (10 for $10!), i
stocked up!&amp;nbsp; but my grampa was amazed. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
“who are you feeding?”&amp;nbsp;
because &lt;i&gt;obviously&lt;/i&gt;, it wasn’t
me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
there’s a sort of…..primitive eating style i adopted when in
the midst of starvation.&amp;nbsp; you’d think i’d
never been taught basic table manners at all.&amp;nbsp;
i ate with my fingers, i slurped my “soup” (hot water with salt and
spices).&amp;nbsp; most embarrassingly, i think,
is that i ate food scraps.&amp;nbsp; like, stems
and peels—the kind of thing you throw away.&amp;nbsp;
i don’t know why—sure, i’d been laid off and needed to watch my money,
but really…..&amp;nbsp; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
i was mortified to eat around people, and would become angry
to the point of hostility if my food rituals were compromised or observed in
any way.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
i still feel ashamed about all that.&amp;nbsp; i feel ashamed about the way i behaved.&amp;nbsp; i just didn’t want anyone to know—chalk it up
to the anorexic mentality, which is a mental health issue as much as it is a
physical one.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
i guess that’s all i’ve got for now.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
more coming sooner rather than later, i hope.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
shaina&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/5891206334731465447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/rituals-and-regret.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/5891206334731465447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/5891206334731465447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/rituals-and-regret.html' title='rituals and regret'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-2478958596248631376</id><published>2012-07-20T21:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-07-20T21:06:48.404-07:00</updated><title type='text'>deflecting attention</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
those of you who know me, &lt;i&gt;at all&lt;/i&gt;, know that i am, if nothing else, one thing: opinionated. &amp;nbsp;unfortunately, i lack the ability to control that rush of adrenaline when confronted with a verbal altercation, and so my debating skills are severely stunted. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
to put it another way, i get so worked up that i forget pretty much everything i could and should say.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i would love to be more assertive in my opinions. &amp;nbsp;i would love to put people in their place when i see fit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i&#39;ve realized that one of the main reasons i &lt;i&gt;don&#39;t&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;assert myself more often is a deep desire not to draw attention to myself, because i am very afraid that the other party will comment on my weight. &amp;nbsp;i have a deep fear of people noticing and insulting me about it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
on a more positive note, today was a much better day. &amp;nbsp;in fact, i&#39;d go so far as to say i think i look pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
my cheek hurts, though.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
OK, go.&lt;br /&gt;
shaina&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/2478958596248631376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/those-of-you-who-know-me-at-all-know.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/2478958596248631376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/2478958596248631376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/those-of-you-who-know-me-at-all-know.html' title='deflecting attention'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-8780040939276959835</id><published>2012-07-19T19:06:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2012-07-19T19:06:27.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>one of the bad days</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
there&#39;s a certain self-hatred that comes with anorexia (and probably all addictions, really) that just doesn&#39;t go away. &amp;nbsp;it may abate more and more as time passes, but then it sneaks up and hurts you, out of nowhere, at the strangest times. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
there ought to be a term for this. &amp;nbsp;auto-guerilla warfare, something like that. &amp;nbsp;i&#39;ll play with it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i put on a pair of pants that at one time would have fallen straight off. &amp;nbsp;and they were &lt;i&gt;tight&lt;/i&gt;. &amp;nbsp;and they hit me in &lt;i&gt;just&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;the wrong place on my now rather fatty belly (i can thank myself for this, for a metabolism that refuses to settle down and operate normally). &amp;nbsp;i had to suck in so my shameful fat didn&#39;t blob through my shirt, and my pants were &lt;i&gt;squeezing&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;me.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
so i punched myself, twice, between my temple and cheekbone. &amp;nbsp;right side. &amp;nbsp;all thoughts dissolved to pain and anger and loathing and shame and disgust.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
there will be a bruise.&lt;br /&gt;
there have been bruises before.&lt;br /&gt;
i hate myself for letting this happen, for getting fat.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i fucking hate myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
this was one of the bad days.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
later,&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;and later still,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
shaina&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/8780040939276959835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/one-of-bad-days.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/8780040939276959835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/8780040939276959835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/one-of-bad-days.html' title='one of the bad days'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-8459532617346590129</id><published>2012-07-18T23:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-07-18T23:24:06.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the elusive &quot;recovery&quot;</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
people talk about &quot;recovery&quot; as though it&#39;s an obtainable thing. &amp;nbsp;it&#39;s not. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
when you&#39;re trying to recover from anorexia (that is, when you stop starving yourself and exercising compulsively), you want to know what to expect. &amp;nbsp;so far, none of the literature i&#39;ve found on the topic has been helpful at all. &amp;nbsp;lots of feel-good stories, and those mostly from bulimics who recounted the massive amounts of food they ate and subsequently threw up, and how this behavior was sparked by their parents&#39; divorce, or their own feeling of needing to control something. &amp;nbsp;there is precious little out there from anorexics, and i think it&#39;s because we are the quieter sufferers. &amp;nbsp;if someone eats a whole pizza and an entire package of cookies in one sitting, others are bound to notice. &amp;nbsp;if she&#39;s living with someone, they&#39;ll definitely notice the sudden appearance and &lt;i&gt;dis&lt;/i&gt;appearance of food in the house, and probably also the sound of vomiting shortly after mealtime. &amp;nbsp;an anorexic, however, can fly under the radar, ordering her salads and water and nobody ever thinks anything--she&#39;s just watching her figure, eating sensibly, etc.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
god, i hate salads so much now. &amp;nbsp;try eating them for EVERY MEAL for a couple of years and you&#39;ll understand.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
so i think it&#39;s harder not only to &lt;i&gt;find&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;anorexics, but harder also to get them to talk about (or even admit) their problem at all. &amp;nbsp;thus we have a lot of literature but no real help.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
the quick and dirty facts are that you will gain weight and there is no recovery, there&#39;s only learning to live one day at a time. &amp;nbsp;even loving your body is hard--it&#39;s been three years since my initial attempts at normalcy, and i still find myself hating and judging my body. &amp;nbsp;it just goes with the territory, i&#39;m afraid. &amp;nbsp;and in this country finding the appropriate mental health help is pretty much impossible, unless you&#39;re really rich.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
mostly what you&#39;ll find is that you just get tired, and you long for the days when you&#39;d lost some weight and felt amazing and &lt;i&gt;still&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;ate normal foods in normal amounts. &amp;nbsp;you&#39;ll ask yourself what happened, how did you let it go this far? &amp;nbsp;the same foods every single day start to wear on you, and sooner or later you&#39;ll just say fuck it, &lt;i&gt;que sera sera&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;and all that. &amp;nbsp;you&#39;ll never be rail-thin again, and eventually that starts to be OK with you. &amp;nbsp;eventually the good days will outnumber the bad.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
peace now and more later,&lt;br /&gt;
shaina&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/8459532617346590129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/people-talk-about-recovery-as-though.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/8459532617346590129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/8459532617346590129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/people-talk-about-recovery-as-though.html' title='the elusive &quot;recovery&quot;'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4275335385895586441.post-2145620988270906944</id><published>2012-07-13T00:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-07-13T00:42:33.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>an introduction</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
i&#39;ve been dragging my feet on this project for months now. &amp;nbsp;mostly, i think it was because i didn&#39;t want people thinking i was clamoring for attention or worse, for sympathy. &amp;nbsp;i didn&#39;t want to be unfairly judged. &amp;nbsp;that&#39;s largely what this was always about--unfair judgement. &amp;nbsp;other peoples&#39; perception of me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i want my story out there. &amp;nbsp;i want people to know. &amp;nbsp;a part of me wants to prove that i WAS skinny, once. &amp;nbsp;i want to prove, to the people who don&#39;t know or who might have forgotten, that i wasn&#39;t always as i am now. &amp;nbsp;i am capable of losing weight.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
the other reason i&#39;ve wanted to get this started was an alarming lack of real post-anorexia experiences. &amp;nbsp;i&#39;ve checked out dozens of books, scoured the internet for facts and testimonials, but what i&#39;ve found so far has left me.....disappointed. &amp;nbsp;nothing has given me quite what i wanted, and that is, i think, reassurance. &amp;nbsp;i want reassurance that what i&#39;m going through is normal. &amp;nbsp;i don&#39;t want to hear that i starved myself so that i could control something in my life. &amp;nbsp;i&#39;m sure that&#39;s the reason some people do, but it wasn&#39;t &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;reason. &amp;nbsp;i don&#39;t want to hear about&amp;nbsp;bulimia, either, because bingeing is not something i would have even let myself think about. &amp;nbsp;it would have been wonderful to eat recklessly, instead of the shredded-carrot-and-water diet i stuck to every single day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i will do my best to avoid triggers, but everyone has different triggers and it would be impossible to circumvent them all, so i apologize in advance. &amp;nbsp;i will never be pro-ana, nor will i engage in thinspiration, but i will post pictures of myself to show unattractive and &lt;i&gt;sick&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;i looked at 97lbs, and how i&#39;ve progressed since then. &amp;nbsp;i may lament the days before i abused and ruined my body, when i was thin and fit and healthy and happy. &amp;nbsp;it&#39;s a hard thing to know that you worked hard to get a fantastic body, but because you couldn&#39;t stop, because you had to keep pushing yourself further and further down the scale, because you couldn&#39;t see in the mirror how beautiful you really were, you lost it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
i have more to say, but i&#39;ll use it for other posts. &amp;nbsp;i&#39;ll try to keep this blog updated regularly, but&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;i procrastinate and&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;i&#39;m terrible at sticking to projects. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;much love and later days,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
shaina&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;WARNING! &amp;nbsp;possible trigger below.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;this is what i looked like in march 2009, at 98lbs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oj1RZ0X1iMFEHWfXaq0hFC-AD3gJ3j37B_cChhkbA3RzWlkFAvAcdvUL3HxkIELoSKJ6blQHPKZEdLzo3P0Q0lj8lCMDvhBzbOvTyIVYAVYpRg-OcLslDTF2XacHWmrPEQGMTuhjvL0/s1600/Photo+12.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oj1RZ0X1iMFEHWfXaq0hFC-AD3gJ3j37B_cChhkbA3RzWlkFAvAcdvUL3HxkIELoSKJ6blQHPKZEdLzo3P0Q0lj8lCMDvhBzbOvTyIVYAVYpRg-OcLslDTF2XacHWmrPEQGMTuhjvL0/s1600/Photo+12.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/feeds/2145620988270906944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/introduction.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/2145620988270906944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4275335385895586441/posts/default/2145620988270906944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://postorexia.blogspot.com/2012/07/introduction.html' title='an introduction'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03150535732999806697</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oj1RZ0X1iMFEHWfXaq0hFC-AD3gJ3j37B_cChhkbA3RzWlkFAvAcdvUL3HxkIELoSKJ6blQHPKZEdLzo3P0Q0lj8lCMDvhBzbOvTyIVYAVYpRg-OcLslDTF2XacHWmrPEQGMTuhjvL0/s72-c/Photo+12.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>