In just a few days National Eating Disorders Awareness week will commence. Which means it’s been one year since I came out. I came clean in the name of bravery, compassion, healing, and helping. Or at least I believed those were my reasons. I announced to my little world that for years I was ensnared in the hungry jaws of an eating disorder. For a decade, I played puppet to a master whose commands differed so greatly from one moment to the next that the strings holding me upright were twisted and tangled and hardly even functional. I spent years counting steps and calories; pounds and fat percentages until my body ignored my calculations and stopped responding to my efforts to control it. And probably much like a teenager, it began to rebel and do the opposite despite my hysterical and erratic demands. I put on weight and retained water; my eyes were puffy and blood shot from the strain of purging and my gag reflex built up a tolerance to my bitter efforts to expel any trace of a binge.
June 20, 2016
Remember that time I gushed all over all things southern? If you don’t, you can catch yourself up here to better understand my love affair with the south. While honeymooning with #3 in Charleston and Savannah, I noticed a plethora of pineapples. Pineapple flags hung on porches and peered out front room windows. Plaster pineapples were focal points in archways while those of the copper and concrete variety sat atop fences, walls, and garden gates. They welcomed you on doormats, knockers, and address plates. And for those of you who haven’t noticed, there is a brilliant and beautiful pineapple fountain centered in Charleston’s famous Waterfront park. I was both fascinated and smitten with the abundance and repetition of this delectable fruit. Thanks to modern technology and Google, I quickly educated myself on the historical relevance of the Pineapple in Colonial America.
May 30th, 2016
I did a thing. A thing that I vowed I would never do. I wasn’t bribed or dared or drunk. I installed a dating app on my phone. And I don’t even want to date! I mean, that’s only mostly true. Because I want to have the opportunity to accept dates and do date things like movies and dinners and first kisses. I want to reach into my closet and finally choose one of the dozens of adorable dresses that have patiently and hopefully hung for so long. Mostly, I just want someone potentially available in the off chance that I have an opening in my schedule and don’t want to fill it with the usual. Is that something I should include in my bio? Should I disclose that my spirit animal is a cat because I want love when I want it and even if I want it, one too many strokes will get you bit? And like a cat, I’m a bit of an asshole and I’m never going to greet you at the door or follow you around. And you have to think that’s awesome.