Tag: body confidence

A great piece of comedy is a verbal magic trick[.] [D]ealing with a lot of the same areas where our defenses are the strongest—race, religion, politics, sexuality—but approaching them through humor instead of fight-or-flight adrenalin, we get endorphins and the alchemy of laughter turns our walls into windows, revealing a fresh and unexpected point of view.

Chris Bliss, Comedian

Humor. It is the most difficult way to approach a sensitive subject because it seems to make light of it, it flirts on the verge of offensive. But, if done expertly, it can be the most effective tool because it sneaks up quietly and slips into your conscience while your guard is down. “It’s just comedy. Nothing serious about it.” Then all of a sudden you’ve seen something big and important in a very different light, and it is now all too serious. But it is also now true and undeniable, because you laughed at it. This is what humor can do. It can allow me to help you see the blunt reality of your life with an eating disorder and finally decide to stop damaging yourself. By the time you’ve laughed, you can’t take it back or un-see the honest truth exposed and I hope it will give you the strength you’ve been looking for to change it. Walls into windows.

I feel like I’m sashaying saucily up to you: “Would you like me to seduce you?” Let’s see if I can. Continue reading “Walls into Windows: Beating EDs Through Humor” →

I imagine the path is similar for many and different for others. For me, my eating disorder was a seed I planted during puberty. It was a realization that I have a body that is not slender and beautiful like other girls, which somehow makes me different and less than other girls.

That seed was then nurtured by the stress of moving across country to live on my own for the first time, with no friends or acquaintances on campus, to begin college and start learning how to cope with all the demands of life as an independent adult. And as I was doing that, I found myself surrounded by throngs of gorgeous hourglass-shaped southern belles. This only continued the unraveling of my self-esteem, a pervasive waning of my confidence. Continue reading “The Black Vine in my Mind” →

Don’t they all look so perfect and slender? Their taut tummies stretched in a sexy arch. Their chests heaving forward demanding your attention. And, their thighs! You can actually see daylight between their thighs! I don’t think any outdoor breeze on earth has graced the skin between my thighs. And, I don’t have really large thighs! And, I also don’t spend my time on the beach posing. I spend it writing to help others who might be slipping toward a terribly debilitating eating disorder as I did, and this topic has been burning on my mind.

Can we talk about posers for a minute? Continue reading “Can We Talk about Posers?” →

Back in my eating disorder heyday, I would often get caught in what I called a “food jam.” A forced meal. A real dilemma. For me, lunch was always the most common. When I was a highly-functional bulimic I would often starve through the day, drinking only coffee for breakfast.

“Why blow through so many calories so early? When I’m not even desperately starving yet?” Continue reading “A Food Jam” →

For me, it started with a Polaroid. A lampshade. A stocky topless girl. And a Polaroid. Then, later, a traumatic Tanya Harding whack to the knees of my confidence that briefly shattered me. That was just the pinnacle moment that triggered what had already been brewing in my mind and what would continue to roar like a furnace long after I could even recall what Tanya’s club felt like. Many things had been leading up to it. Continue reading “Your Fat and Unlovable Photo” →

“My boyfriend thinks I’m fat!” We can all relate to that phrase. You imagine a silly girl in the restaurant who throws her fork and shrieks this out when the waiter asks her if she would like dessert.

What a snivelly little weakling. “I could crush her,” you might be thinking.

But, if you were anything like me when I was suffering from a raging eating disorder, I have admit that I was actually far weaker than her. Rather than letting some emotions out in public where they might be aired out, exposed, and cleared, I took mine home with me. I swallowed them and hid them. Fed them and grew them. I locked the door and hugged them like a toilet. Continue reading “The Worst Kind of Addiction” →