It’s an odd thing – an eating disorder. Eating is one of the life sustaining things most people do most easily.
When I was in my 30s – a laxative dependent, bulimic, insomniac – it struck me that I couldn’t do what even babies do by nature – eat, poop or sleep right.
Twenty years later, it’s all come together and healed, but my approach to food can still seem weird to most people. I picture my sister reading my last post and wondering, “what does it mean that sushi is difficult to gauge?” It is an odd concept – raw fish as portion, not nourishment.
For sure guys really don’t get it. Food is great. Food is caring. Food is love. Sharing a meal together can only mean one thing – sex is next.
But it most certainly doesn’t work like that for me. (Sorry!) Food is something I have to put in it’s place. Food, once an enemy, is now just food.