Years ago, I wished there existed an Eating Disorders Cafe, where one could go and order all kinds of weird and restrictive choices without raising an eyebrow.
Some perfect sample meals – ketchup, mustard, balsamic vinegar. And a diet coke.
Iceberg lettuce and two saltines. Dessert – a pack of sugar-free gum
Once served, I’d be allowed to nibble two bites, then douse the rest with pepper so I couldn’t eat any more. And no waiter would ask if there were a problem.
It would be a safe place where I could exhibit all my sick habits with food and be excepted and cared for.
Really and truly – this sounded like bliss. I had no idea how sick I was.