Recoveredbulimic’s Weblog

Yesterday’s thoughts on weight have inspired further reflection. When I consider the power that numbers have over us, it just seems insane. How many years did I step on the scale — several times a day — to monitor my weight? Those numbers on the scale determined my self-worth! I used to count calories as well. Those weird numbers determined if food was good or not, and if I was good or not. There are other numbers as well: salary, bank account, value of the house, price of the car, that apparently have something to say about our own value.

Remember the song I included in my post the other day — Daily stuff or: why am I not satisfied? That’s what it’s about. We try to compensate or build up our low self-worth with symbolic numbers. And what happens is, we invest these numbers with an immense power over us, and struggle each day in the hope of achieving certain ideals. Generally, these numbers are unattainable, because as soon as we reach them, we want more (or less, depending on the situation) — to the point of becoming addicted.

Clothing sizes are also numbers. Think about it. What are they for? Their purpose is to help us find clothes that fit us, rather than having to try everything on that’s hanging on the rack. Whether I am a 7, 9, 11, 12 or 14 doesn’t matter. It does not determine my value as a human being. It simply helps me find something to wear that will fit me. During the time when I began to lose weight, I greedily eyed the “petite” sizes, hoping to eventually fit into them. Now I know better — 5′ 7″ is not petite!

When I was really skinny, I can remember not going clothes shopping. I was afraid, because I didn’t know what size I was, and I didn’t want anyone to find out. (Not that I had much spare money to spend on clothes, since most of it went towards bingeing!) Yet I am just as guilty of proudly announcing my size to a woman who was a few sizes larger. As if that made me better or something, it gave me sick satisfaction! Now I accept myself as I am, and the competitive comparison is no longer necessary. On the contrary, I enjoy the company and presence of other women, and treasure each one’s unique appearance, without value judgment.

I don’t like giving other people control over me, and the thought of numbers having control over me is even less desirable. I grew up reacting, discerning my worth through the reflection perceived in other people’s eyes. My self-esteem was a situative variable that had nothing to do with me. That was a poor existence, and no numbers either way could help it. I always assumed the worst. Yet this very desire to please made me willing to undertake immense efforts to try and change myself to fit some predetermined image, size or number which had nothing to do with me.

My tendency towards faith in conspiracy theory supports the notion that this supposed importance of numbers regarding weight and size is instilled in women to keep them under control. Can you imagine the blast of energy, creativity and power that would be unleashed if women stopped expending so much energy and time on these numbers? Wow!

There is still a lot of anger simmering inside of me. Anger at myself for buying into this crock and being so deep into self-destruction for so long, and anger at my environment for promoting these plastic, superficial values. I royally screwed up a lot of things in my life because of it. I damaged my body, I betrayed myself, I barely remember my youth and young adulthood. If I hadn’t written so much in my journal, the gaps in memory would be much worse. True, I trust in the universe, and I am doing a damn good job at making the most of what is left, but sometimes it makes me want to scream. Still, let’s not forget the big picture. Everything happens for a reason and in the end it will all make sense. Remember, this is life now and we can reclaim it and enjoy it. And I want to have some fun!

I wasn’t going to include a song today, but two just popped into my head, so I’ll share them. Enjoy!
Rockstar (Nickelback)

I’m through with standing in line
To clubs we’ll never get in
It’s like the bottom of the ninth
And I’m never gonna win
This life hasn’t turned out
Quite the way I want it to be

(Tell me watchya want)

I want a brand new house
On an episode of Cribs
And a bathroom I can play baseball in
And a king size tub big enough
For ten plus me

(Tell me watchya need)

I’ll need a credit card that’s got no limit
And a big black jet with a bedroom in it
Gonna join the mile high club
At thirty-seven thousand feet

(Been there, done that)

I want a new tour bus full of old guitars
My own star on Hollywood Boulevard
Somewhere between Cher and
James Dean is fine for me

(So how you gonna do it)

I’m gonna trade this life for fortune and fame
I’d even cut my hair and change my name

‘Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We’ll all stay skinny ’cause we just won’t eat
And we’ll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger’s
Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny
With her bleached blond hair and well,
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

I wanna be great like Elvis without the tassels
Hire eight body guards that love to beat up assholes
Sign a couple autographs
So I can eat my meals for free

(I’ll have the quesadilla, haha)

I’m gonna dress my ass
With the latest fashion
Get a front door key to the Playboy mansion
Gonna date a centerfold that loves to
Blow my money for me

(So how you gonna do it)

I’m gonna trade this life
For fortune and fame
I’d even cut my hair
And change my name

‘Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars …
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

I’m gonna sing those songs
That offend the censors
Gonna pop my pills
From a pez dispenser

I’ll get washed-up singers writing all my songs
Lip sync em every night so I don’t get ‘em wrong

Well we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars …
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

Girls just wanna have fun (Cyndi Lauper)

I was just about ready to go have some supper, but was writing to someone about weight and (I think) I’d like to share on that. The underlying problems of the bulimic/anorexic are not about weight. I remember wanting to be skinny and weightless, because that was childlike, and I missed being a child. Life seemed so much easier then — looking back, at least. And yet, weight is a major issue, besides learning to love, trust, forgive, mourn, …. and live. Feel free to insert your own issues. Those were my major ones.

I hadn’t really thought about it for a long time, but like I said, I just did. I generally avoid numbers and weights, knowing that we are all so competitive, but I will dare to give some hard numbers. Before I do that, though, I will confess that I am still slim and still concerned about my appearance. In fact, I am practically vain, and don’t think I could stand to be overweight. Recovery doesn’t mean you don’t care about your appearance. You just care differently. For me, it just means accepting my normal weight — which I didn’t get to pick as ideal. My body settled at that all by itself.

So, now to the numbers. I won’t actually give the weight, just comparisons. During my last major relapse-trying-to-recover phase, I weighed around 15 pounds more than at my worst skin-and-bones phase. At that time, I considered it to be the ideal weight, and hoped to recover and keep that weight. It wasn’t enough and I was still starving, so the inevitable binges kept happening. I also couldn’t sleep (ketosis?). Now, get a load of this, I weigh nearly 20 pounds more than that ideal weight. And I am still skinny!!! (But not in an unhealthy way.) These numbers simply knock me over!

I don’t want to brag about weighing so much more than I once did, but I want to state it as a fact of necessity. How many times I actually wished I could magically weigh this much again, because I just couldn’t bear the reality of having to gain the weight back. It was awful. Gaining weight is about giving up control, and I needed to have things under control. Yet, back then when I looked in the mirror, I would gain ten pounds just by looking. At first glance, I would think, “Oh, I’m slim.” Then I’d look closer, and “realize” that I was horribly fat. I never left out an opportunity to look in a mirror, or at my reflection in a store window. I kept hoping to see how I “really” looked, but I wasn’t able to find myself. Not until I looked within and let myself come out.

I think I’d been concerned about looking good, because I felt that what was inside of me was so ugly and deformed, that no one could possibly stand it. So I tried to make up for it by being thin. I know, that’s a strange logic, but it’s how I thought.

It wasn’t until I absolutely surrendered and decided to eat, to do what it takes, and to give up control, that I was able to gain the weight back. Whatever my body settled on, I would accept. I guess the switch was that I really wanted to live, so my body became the vehicle to enable that rather than being my definition. I like my body now. I look in the mirror and I like what I see. I like how I feel, too. It’s all part of me, and feels just right. And now I am finally going to go have my supper!

Oh, one more thing. This past summer I had the feeling of going back 30 years and picking up where I left off in my emotional development. (Yes, there are still some issues to be dealt with!) I felt a strong urge to buy the two Supertramp CDs that I had listened to as records back then (Even in the Quietest Moments and Crime of the Century). Many songs I still know by heart. They got me through some of my darkest hours. Here’s a special song.

Rudy

Rudy’s on a train to nowhere, halfway down the line
He don’t wanna get there, but he needs time
He ain’t sophisticated, nor well-educated
After all the hours he wasted, still he needs time.
He needs time - he needs time for livin’,
He needs time - for someone just to see him.
He ain’t had no lovin’
For no reason or rhyme
And the whole world’s above him.
Well it’s not as though he’s fat
No there’s more to it than that
See he tried to play it cool
Wouldn’t be nobody’s fool.

Rudy thought that all good things comes to those that wait
But recently he could see that it may come too late.

All through your life, all through the years
Nobody loved, nobody cared.
So dim the light, dark are your fears
Try as I might, I can’t hold back the tears
How can you live without love, it’s not fair?
Someone said give but I just didn’t care.
I didn’t dare, I didn’t dare
What good advice are you waiting to hear?
Hearing’s alright for them that’s all there
You’d better gain control now
You’d better show’em all now
You’d better make or break now
You’d better give and take now
You’ll have to push and shove now
You’ll have to find some love now
You’d better gain control now.

Now he’s just come out the movie.
Numb of all the pain,
Sad but in a while he’ll soon be
back on his train…