I Get It

(I hesitate to write this because I think some of you are going to read it the wrong way. So before you do, know that I am FINE and aware and checking myself and Jim's in on the whole thing.)

I get how people become anorexic.

I used to not get it. I used to wonder how someone that weighs 70 pounds can look in mirror and talk about how fat they are. I used to think people that only ate four carrots a day and/or worked out for five and a half hours a night could possibly think that was normal.

But I think I sort of get it now.

(And I'm reiterating here ... I'm not even REMOTELY anorexic. Or bulimic or anything similar.)

 I caught myself on my treadmill one night this last week, getting an extra three miles in because I'd eaten a piece of cake ... three days in a row.

Then today, I was trying on some capris, a size 4 and a size 6, and as I pulled them on, I found myself obsessing over the "flab" in my mid-section.

And more than a handful of times in the past month, people have asked me if I'm still losing or if I'm done because I'm "just disappearing." Some of them seem to be genuinely concerned.

(Now, let me be very clear. I have lost only four pounds since mid-March. I've been down a couple, up a couple since declaring my war on the last 10 pounds and have no desire to go lower than that. I am comfortably in the high range of "normal" BMI. I eat. I LOVE to eat. I eat three solid meals of healthy food and snack on some not so healthy stuff more than I want to admit.)

I'm not disappearing, nor am I gaunt, nor too thin. I am healthy, sturdy and carrying more weight than a good, old-fashioned height/weigh chart says I should. (Do you remember that? For the "average" woman, you get 100 pounds if you're 5-foot tall, and then 5 pounds for every inch after that. I'm not close to THAT.)

But I see how it happens. It's empowering to be in control. It's addicting to buy smaller and smaller clothes. It's fantastic to have people tell you how great you look at the time. It's hard to not focus on the areas that still aren't perfectly flat or tight or 8-year-old-boy/magazine-cover-model-like. And it's hard to REALLY see what you look like when your perception of yourself is so screwed up and has been for so long.

When I look at me, I think I'm far from what "thin"  looks like. From what I can tell, I look like a 43-year-old woman with some extra stuff on my hips and thighs ... and there's plenty of squish everywhere. I can pinch an inch in several places ... including under my chin.

Let's just say, I don't feel or believe I look tiny. I'm not tiny. I know what size I'm buying and I just can't quite understand how it can be.

This is how messed up my perception is. While on vaca, I bought shorts that were the same size/make/model as a friend. To me, she looks thin and yet, I don't think my body shape or size is remotely the same as hers. So when I stand next to her, I see me as much bigger, though I know that can't be totally accurate.

True to form, I ate badly this weekend, in spite of my declarations of change earlier this week. Last night, after a fantastic dinner on the screen porch of sumptuous steak sandwiches with provolone/mushrooms/onions, sweet corn, asparagus and Jim's birthday cake, I was miserable.

I couldn't believe I ate what I did. My stomach was stretched to its limit and feeling woogy for processing the delicious pile of red meat I consumed and am no longer accustomed to. By bedtime, I was physically uncomfortable and wishing I could just get rid of the food in my gut. Doing so would make me feel better AND perhaps eliminate some of the calories before they could hit the scale.

Of course, I didn't do anything to make that happen. I ate what I ate and I will do the work I need to get back on track. But the thought crossed my mind ... how much easier that would be than behaving better for the next few days in both diet and exercise.

I am sure this is part of the process. I am learning what my new boundaries are and how to live within them. Perhaps I'm at my sustainable and "right" weight ... maybe those last 6 pounds I'm struggling with aren't as attainable or important as I think.

I just don't know right now.

I believe my head is in the right place to handle this. I even think that someday I will learn to see this new body and understand it. In other words, I'm not worried.

But I sort of feel like I've peeked in on what an eating disorder is like or could be like. And I feel badly for those who suffer. Those who can't see, can't understand and can't believe there's a problem. It must be really awful to have your own brain and your own body be the enemy.

If you're flirting with any of these things, PLEASE talk to someone. Check yourself. Be healthy first.