Is She Fat ( Early weight shaming)

.

I was watching one of those "where are they now" shows and Tina Cole was being interviewed.  She stated that they had tested six hundred women for the part of Don Grady's wife (Robbie on the show).  When Tina was cast, Don pulled a pout and almost quit.  He was used to the "surfer girl type" and she was "round" (at this point, Tina  made curve signs with her hands).  This nonsense still goes on, with really great actresses getting denied parts when they hit forty.  Yet, guys that age are cast with women who are about twenty three as their girlfriend.

.

Can you imagine if the roles were reversed and society started to shame guys who were short?  Or put on a few pounds.  What if they got called in and were given "the talk."  No...they can get away with it and still get cast with hotties.

I Just Can't.....

I Just Can't deal with them at the moment.  I like my job and I don't want a free ride.  So, I therefore have not understood the issue with Health Canada and why they are so obtuse.  They are the people who stepped in and said that road blocks needed to be put in place.    But then again, just like WCB and all those other agencies, that's where the evil empire lives.  As I wrote the other day, I had to get a letter from my doctor.  Now they need something else.  I knew it was coming.  There's never enough balls in the air.  As I said, I had migraines.  It's this bullshit that caused all the other problems.  And this bullshit costs over two hundred dollars per person, by the way.  I don't understand what black tarry stools has to do with being able to wear an air mask, but call me stupid.  Health Canada has a lot of explaining to do....  Don't believe me?  Here's the forms...or part of them.

Just to Prove My Case on Health Canada==Juice is Evil
.
I only drink Diet Pepsi and I will perhaps consume  juice if there  is alcohol in it, but I had to attach this story.  It makes my case about Health Canada.  In the last few years they have gone after energy drinks and they wanted to make them available by prescription only (thankfully, that was overturned).  I have an issue with their view on e-cigarettes as I don't see them as being as bad as actual nicotine.  I know many people who have stopped smoking because of e-cigarettes.  Thanks to Health Canada's actions, many gay underwear shops have gone out of business.  They have gone gang busters into them, looking for poppers.  In the meanwhile, they look the other way when people dump fertilizer on their lawns and other environmental additives.

Health Canada Sucks

Of all the things that could haunt me, it is my friend's cat that comes to me.  Were I actually able to sleep, she would be the stuff of Poe.    But night  eludes me and I therefore can't call her my  bete noire.  Like so many other things in my life,  "Baby Girl," as  "B"  called her,  is part of the damp coat I  now wear that just won't dry out.  

.

I wasn't always this way.  I used to be a functioning person.  They tested me in my last year of elementary school and I had the highest I.Q. I also earned The Award of Excellence for my  athletic skills, something not easily earned.   In my first year of high school my reading skills scored in the university level  Mind you, it doesn't help at the moment that as I type this,  entire lines keep disappearing for some reason, but I digress.   And while I'm on the topic, complete paragraphs just eraced themselves.  (I just had to reload some photos).

.

It wasn't all that long ago that people wanted to spend time with me.  I had migraines, but I worked around them.  So, what happened?  Health Canada happened.  I've noticed that any organization that has the following words----Health/ Personnel/ Insurance---doesn't care about people at all.  In fact, they  serve the company and not the employee. 

.
Thanks to Health Canada, I feel as though nobody wants to talk to me...rather,   they want to talk about me.  I've had people that I don't even know come up and start talking about my illness, as  though it's their business.   Because I am being asked to explain myself so often, people get the idea that there is something untoward going on.   Would they ask somebody in a wheelchair to  get a note all the time?  I doubt it.   This was a work=place injury, all the same.  I often wish that I had a visible injury because then people would get off my back.  Maybe then the pain would be a one time thing and then go away.  This is constant and ongoing, but it is there, all the same, and people  don't understand.   Health Canada is the worst, probably because it's become their job to look after it.
.
My doctor suggested that I was isolating myself.  I said that wasn't the case at all.  I pointed out that people wanted nothing to do with me.  Furthermore, I've lost confidence in myself.  When I feel like everybody is looking at me, judging me and watching me, I second guess myself and then I screw up.  It's become a social phobia.    I used to organize staff parties and events until I walked through the looking glass (or was pushed through it).    Even a close  friend stopped talking to me two months. It was so awkward when I ran into him and his mother because he was forced to speak to me.  I still don't know to this day what was said about me and my friend and   it  would be easier if I did, because my mind has run rampant all these years. What I do know, it was like Samantha from Bewitched had twitched her nose and cast a spell.   I certainly wasn't allowed at the cool kids' table anymore.

(Taken a few years ago on vacation with a friend)

Sadly, my friend "B" is dead now.  I wrote a"short story" about it a while in "Best Served Cold."  

I have to go see a "specialist" next week to figure out some sleeping medication.  We had horrible shifts when I began working and we could not book off work or else we would be fired as we had a two year probationary period.  As a result, we built up a lot of sick leave.  I ended up getting migraines thanks to that evil shift rotation.  It was a week of seven days, then a week of evenings, then a week of midnights.  When you hit the week of subs, you often worked days, then would have to double back in that same day for midnights.  Yes, I mean drive back in that very night.    Later, that same week, they would switch you back to days again.   When I say a week, I mean seven days.  Over the years, I worked almost every single Christmas.

.

(University.  Taken by a Photographer)

.

Then Health Canada came along.  As I said, I developed migraines due to the shifts, but I sucked it up  and I lived with it.  However, somebody decided that it should be somebody's job to "manage" my migraines.    The employees used to trade off amongst ourselves, as some of us used to like days and some of us liked the nights.  Makes sense, right?  Not to Health Canada.   I came to work one night and I was handed a Return to Work Journal that some unknown person in Personnel or Health Canada wanted me to complete every night and then discuss with somebody in the morning before I left at the behest of another unknown person in an unstated department.  I was told it was a new mandatory policy.  I asked around and NOT ONE other party had been given the same journal.  I'm not stupid, so I contacted the head person in charge of the policy.  They didn't know a thing about it.  I refused to comply, but it's like that old joke about "How often did you used to beat your wife?"   You can't win.  Thanks Health Canada.  If I don't fill it out, I'm not complying.  If I do fill it out and sit around in an office with a closed door, it looks to all the other staff that I'm "special" and have an issue.   It would have marginalized me even more.

.

(Photo taken by my cousin)
.

Health Canada, in the past, has wanted to make Energy drinks available only by a prescription.  Thankfully, that was defeated.  I am not talking about the wonderful nurses and doctors who work at the job sites.  No---these are the nurses who do the assessments on people.  A number of years ago, one of them came to an off site meeting we had.  She told us to get into a "happy circle" and to "clap, clap, clap our hands" on  a hygiene lesson.  Like we didn't know how to wash our hands.  Mind you, since they've since reduced the budget and it's often difficult to find paper towels, who knows?  These are the public health nurses who give shots to school children.

.

Here is the assessment guidelines that they use on us.  They are paid fifty dollars, whether or not we show up.  It is done in the main hallway, which is very loud.  .

.

.
(Available online via Health Canada)

.(Available on line)

(Available online)
.

This entire thing is a cross between something out of Monty Python and Kafka.  In fact, I've told my  Doctor that I often feel like Sissyphus and I'm just rolling my rock up the hill, over and over again.
.
   How can physical characteristics be listed under mental health assessment?  What is this anyways, the dark ages?    This should be a red flag that this was written by somebody with no knowledge of the DSM at all.  How does the way a person looks have any bearing at all on their mental well being?  I know that nobody reads this, but I wish that somebody would take this up as a cause.  I loathe  Health Canada.  At least for the sake of the tax payers, the fact that they charge fifty dollars  whether or not a person shows is horrid.  Surely when a person is in a busy hallway at a work site, it is not a proper place to do  an assessment, especially when they don't want it done and they resent it. 

.

What they really do is stick a scope on people.  Fifty bucks!!!!  And most of us visit our doctors and we would report if something was wrong.  When it becomes the job of people to organize others, common sense often goes out the window.  They also want to make sure that they hold on to their position and therefore want to make sure we keep coming back.  So, even though it doesn't serve the client, they'll make certain that the paperwork has to filled over and over and over.    The real kicker?  They are big on privacy for our clients,  most rightfully so, yet our information will be on file for research purposes for several decades.   And the doctor wonders why I refuse to come in for my regular checkups.  Anything we report can and will be used against us.  Older employees are held to a higher standard as the tests are even more invasive.
.
Separate is not equal.  At some point, somebody needs to realize that the ticky boxes have to stop being filled "just because."  It is hurting people.  There used to be one form that we filled and it worked just fine.   That form is still being filled out, yet we have this on top of it all.   People are not seeking help for depression.  Others are not taking blood thinners because they will be removed from their posts.  Still others fear that practicing their religious beliefs, as in wearing a turban, will mean that they can't  work.  It's wrong on so many levels.  

.

Anyways, it's thanks to these people everything changed The constant and endless referals  and trips to the doctors and pharmacies.  Referrals by some nameless person I don't even know.  It's the week end and whereas I once had a life, here I am.   I'm too embarrassed  to use Facebook, so I turned it off. I doubt anybody noticed because  I'm a loser.   It's finally the summer and I'm sitting inside because I can't go out in the world.  I'm too repugnant.    A couple of people have sent me LinkedIn requests.  My response was---what would I put there?   Professional Fuck Up?  My house is a dump, whereas it used to be immaculate.  I am forever letting my mother down.  I can't get anything done.    They've actually made me more ill--I only had migraines.  Their requests have caused me to get acid reflux, a sleep disorder, and TMJ all from stress.   The last time Health Canada sent me a letter stating they wanted information, I got shingles!!!    Not that anybody reads this, but I'm finally going to vent about their asses.
.
Why does my friend's  cat haunt me? After "B"  died, his wife couldn't look after the cat and left town to live with her sister.    I should have taken the cat  in, as my friend loved that little girl.  It haunts me still.  The photo is on my shelf and is one more thing I carry with me.  I mourn his loss, the cat and I am angry for the loss of people who didn't make it because they never got the help they  needed..  WCB and H.C. and other alphabet agencies need to fix their policies.

(Taken by my Friend)
.

(Video found on youtube.  Dedicated to the losers of the world, such as myself).

Not Immune from the Auto-Immune

Never under estimate how bad Microsoft can suck.  I am redoing the blog as it disappeared.  It initially kept formatting  with lines under the entire piece and I couldn't correct it.  When I backspaced...it was just gone.

I suspect we've all had an experience with a dog that's done something wrong.    It's evident as soon as we enter the room that the animal is guilty, for the tail is tucked into a U curve, and the eyes are downcast.  Much like the guilty dog, our body betrays our emotions.
.
When my father died a few years ago, it began a succession of events that dropped like bad jokes at the office party.  My mother suffered from some health crises immediately after.  My vehicle conked out one morning of a long weekend Sunday and I had to work that night.  I had to put down a beloved cat.  I had to get checked for HIV and Hep C after a workplace exposure to blood products.  Ironically, I'd had a flat response to much of it.  What finally got me was an administrative work issue.
.
My body rebelled and I, the person who has never taken antibiotics and other then migraines, never gets sick.  I awoke one day to find that I had shingles.  I have a high pain tolerence, but my doctor signed me off work for a week as I was highly contagious.  I know others who have had similar maladies befall them.  Like me, one of my male coworkers got shingles, but took much longer off.  Others have suddenly been stricken with gout.  One ended up with some sort of immune system disorder that effects her liver.  More have breathing issues that can't be pinned down.  It seems that when stressful situations happen and we go on auto-pilot to cope with them or to be stoic, we may end up paying for it later.    Like the water flowing in Niagra, that energy will out and there's no way to stop it.  I took my first vacation in ages and things felt better for a short while.
.
I suspect I'm headed for a fall again.  I'll perform my ritual of taking several Gravol as soon as I get home, but sleep eludes me.  In the past two weeks, my mother has been admitted to the hospital twice.  I've taken two cats to the vet.  Iroginically, I displayed my usual placid response.  I lost my nut, though, to the same thing that triggered me years ago....a workplace administrative issue.  Oh---and the telemarketers .
.
It's ironic that we retreat from people when it would most serve us.  Therefore, I'm going to try to force myself to write and to walk; anything to keep the balls juggled for a while longer.

DO GOOD THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES, OR ARE THEY JUST SICK AFTER ALL?

`

I like to compare how stories are written up in various papers and countries. The comment below was from "The New York Daily News." The readers in the "Daily Mail" (United Kingdom), were far more civilized. I would love to retort to this idiot in the following manner:

`````Ruhi, honey, your **** would never manage to do that, as a model would never let you within ten feet of her. In fact, I suspect the only "sword" you ever manage to swath is your Star Wars sabre.

Ruhi
2:31 AMDec 24, 2010
my **** would tear her in half... Yes, I said it.Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/forums/thread.jspa?threadID=119546#ixzz198QsoStE

NY Daily News - Discussions - Too skinny? Allie Crandell's ...

`

`````I suppose that had I watched reality television, this would not be my first introduction to Allie Crandell. But, since I don't watch the aforementioned, it is. However, I do like to blog about weight issues.

`````Most people have heard the story by now. Allie Crandell was modelling for a company and after complaints were received, she was told to gain weight. Customers had written that they would not buy clothing from any company that encouraged young women to be so emaciated. In Europe, cat-walks have attempted to address this issue by stating that models must have a healthy BMI. In reality, it does nothing to solve the issue. With the exception of a few plus-size (oh no---a whopping size 12) models, the weights have continued to drop over the years.

`````Many argue that models, being very young and tall (and perhaps, freaks of nature), are thin by nature and do not starve to achieve their physique. Others state that no matter what, it presents an unnatural and unrealistic image for young girls, thus encouraging eating disorders.

`````It's always hard to tell by photographs what's really going on. The camera adds weight, and good lighting and makeup can hide lack of sleep, lack of pounds and heavy drug usage. There is also the added usage of Photo-Shop, which can mask a number of misdeeds.

`````I'm really conflicted on this issue. In other jobs, people get called out over their health on a regular basis. For example, people may have to meet physical standards for insurance reasons. I don't, however, see how this one model is any different then any other model out there. I don't get why she's being targeted. There's many models who have fake breast implants, which might make them seem "curvier" and thus more acceptable to the male audience.

`````Realistically, I know that thin photos had nothing to do with the anorexia I suffered when I was in university. It had nothing to do with my episodes of compulsive over eating, bulimia (via laxatives) or practically any other disordered eating you can find in the DSM. Is is the fault of the fashion industry that it might drive some people to it? I don't think so. No more then advertising drives people to steal. We are all accountable for our own actions.

`````If the girl is ill and needs help, I hope she gets it for herself. It's highly hypocritical for the fashion industry to suddenly have her as a scapegoat, though. Who knows? I've become so cynical of the media that I can see it all as a set-up for another reality show.

`````So, while she may be the topic-du-jour, and people tsk, tsk, her weight, how many models have been rejected because they're too dark, too heavy, too short, too old, over-exposed.....? I guess they can feel self righteous in this one case.

SICK OF BEING SICK

I had to book off sick on my last work day (Saturday night) as a migraine came on quickly. Only just a while ago did I become mobile. I had gotten up on Monday morning to take some Gravol and then crashed again. When I felt that I wasn't going to turn back into the reincarnation of Linda Blair in "The Exorcist", I hustled quickly into the kitchen and fed the cats. I saw that Ollie, ever practical, had opened the cupboard door and looked for the kibbles. Unfortunately, Lumpy only eats canned food, and the dexterity might be there for thieving and stealing toy mice and food, but can openers are not within Ollie's realm. To be honest, the appliance I currently own is a P.O.S. and I keep meaning to replace it (along with the socks and underwear that lack elastic).

`

As an aside, I once knew a guy who took great pleasure in telling me, over and over, that my cats would eat me one day. I guess wanton women deserve it when they are attacked by strangers for their trampy dress. Cat women, such as myself, deserve it when we die alone and are eaten by our pets. He had attended an expert foresenics conference and he detailed for me which animals dispose of human remains in what fashion. Cats, he assured me, were the most ruthless. I think he meant to shock me, as perhaps my shy and quiet nature deceives. In actual fact, I am very attracted to the macabre. I told him that I wouldn't want my pets to go hungry merely as a result of my lack of planning. Less belly for the undertaker anyways; consider it a form of liposuction, post-mortum. As long as my little darlings found me "corpus delicti," all was good. Ask the Donner party...it all tastes like chicken.

`

That task over with, I began to feel bad again, and flopped on the bed for the rest of the day. I left the door open, so this time I felt the twomp, twomp as various cats joined me.

`

At the last minute, I am washing my work outfit. I have nothing to eat in the house as I didn't get out to purchase groceries and of course, the Christmas shopping did not get started. You guessed it....the weather report predicts snow this weekend. I lost several pounds as I threw up so much and my face is a bad yellow that even the worst fake and bake tanner couldn't achieve it if they tried.

`

What a waste of days off. Migraines suck.

`

(Art by Picasso)

DON'T SOAK IN THIS

`````Soothing indeed. Do these and you may end up so agitated that you don't sleep for a couple of days. Two people in England have been confirmed dead as a result of them. For, these "bath salts" are the new drug of choice in England. They are cheap and legal. And joy of joys, they offer the prospect of weight loss and energy. In fact, before her death, one woman went from a size sixteen to a size six in a matter of months. She had recently been married and was upset about her weight. In the past, there were reports that she'd had issues with her appearance and food. She began to snort these bath salts.

`````After reading the article on this item, Ivory Wave, I checked out the web site. Sure enough, there's discussion about how intense the high is. One person reported not sleeping for over 48 hours. The price is between fifteen and eighteen pounds, which is much cheaper then speed or cocaine and has the added benefit of being legal. It has replaced a drug called "meow meow", which was being sold as fertilizer and was legal until a while ago. These all fall under the category of designer drugs; they are synethsized in a lab and have a chemical makeup similiar to drugs already out there. Because they have a molecule that is off those that are listed on the charts, they technically aren't illegal until so listed. Dozens of people either died or became very ill from the "meow meow" drug until legislators had the chance to place it on the banned list. It too was a stimulant.

`````Ivory Wave has caused people to become paranoid, not sleep and have seizures. Their blood pressure goes up and they become agitated. Why the appeal? Unfortunately, many women seek out such drugs because they want to lose weight. Over the years the drugs change, but the motivation doesn't. Check out the so-called "pro-ana" websites. For those unfamiliar with the term, these tell people how to lose weight in less then healthy ways. The readers are not those who need to drop a few pounds either; they are people who are already well under their ideal weight. People swap tips on the best ways to vomit and hide it. Little tricks like that. Some of these sites also offer information on how to go about getting medication that helps you lose weight.

`````Some people start to use this stuff to drop a few pounds and soon find that they are unable to stop. For those already prone to compulsive behaviour, it isn't a difficult trap to get into. In this case, it is possible for a person to be a slave to two masters. For somebody who is already hurting their body, to do drugs on top of it is a sure way to hit the grave fast. While some of this medication has a purpose for those who genuinely need it, it is not meant to be abused. For example, Topamax is a medication for seizures. It is also given to those with really bad migraines. However, it's been found that it may cause weight loss. Thus, pro-ana websites will sometimes mention that people should fake migraines to get a doctor to prescribe the drug. This medication was found to be in the possession of both Anna Nicole Smith and Britney Murphy; both women who lost a lot of weight prior to their dying.

`````By the way, men are also using items to alter their bodies. However, they tend to purchase chemicals to make themselves bigger. The drive is the same; a dislike of the self or a dissatisfaction with the goods. If you buy something in the gym, it's probably not going to be pure or the real thing. Some might not even be meant for human usage. I once knew somebody who wrestled and he was as well aware of which laxatives worked the best for dropping weight as I was. Furthermore, a guy who did a bit of modelling once gave me the name of a doctor who was known to prescribe medication even if you didn't need it (the notrious "Dr M"). He was as crazed about his weight as I was at the time. It isn't just a female thing.

`````In the meantime, the hospitals are keeping an eye out for people getting ill from this new drug and there's a move afoot to ban this one too. But, another one will most likely pop up when that happens. Better living through chemistry?

ENOUGH WITH THOSE ARTICLES ON 'FAT STARS'`

`````I don't want to sound like that guy who stood behind the curtains in his Grandmother's den and started to wail about leaving Britney alone, but I am sick of the interest the media has taken in Misha Barton's weight. I am not a fan; I think I may have watched two episodes of the O.C. when it first came out. But the other day there was an article about her in some paper. It isn't just the tabloids which comment on her weight gain. The paper posted what they deemed to be unflattering outfits and stated that she was once a style icon.

`````I can imagine how she feels. While my weight gain drama wasn't played out for the world to see, I certainly felt as though it were. I felt like I had a flashing neon sign over my head declaring that I was a disgusting pig. I still feel like the world's biggest screw-up. She has every pound speculated upon in a very public fashion. Photographers try to snap a photo of her cellulite. It's no longer the quality of her acting which matters, but only how she acts. In fact, because she's no longer "hot enough", she isn't acting as much as she once was, or demanding the same level of pay.

`````I'll be honest. I think that I've probably engaged in every type of disordered eating that's out there except for pica. Nobody's heard of that one...it's where the victims eat non edible items such as grass or paint peelings. Other then that, it's probably been within the repertoire of my behavior at some point. I've written about the anorexia, but that found its way into laxative abuse after consuming huge amounts of food. Add to that compulsive overeating, using physical activity to get rid of food eaten, binge eating---well, you get the point. Been there, done that, and have the t-shirt in sizes from extra small to extra large.

`````Misha Barton's "friends" dumped her when she gained weight. She found that people would turn their backs on her and she was no longer invited to the cool parties with the in people. She's the same person. My guess is that the weight gain is from medication, as it came about around the time of her hospitalization in a psychiatric hospital. Many medications, be they for bi-polar disorder or medications such as seroquel state that weight gain may result. Don't put the girl into the position of having to choose her mental well-being, and perhaps her life, with weight gain. Furthermore, she is normal by any body's standards other then the film industry or the modelling industry. She's a very attractive woman.

`````As to the comments about her clothing, boy do I understand that one. If you feel bad about how you look, one develops rules for dressing. No shorts, no bathing suits, no short sleeves. There always has to be a jacket or a vest hanging to cover the stomach. If you have to get up to use the restroom, have a purse big enough to cover your gut when you walk. It's insane the planning. The problem is, those aren't necessarily the clothes that you would buy or wear if you were thin. You merely make do. Mind you, that's what you do with your entire life; the weight unhappiness controls every facet of your life. You buy stuff that feels too old for you. You miss out on going to the beach and you avoid the heat, because going out there in all black clothes in long sleeves is very uncomfortable.

`````I hadn't been able to blog about it when I first read it, but I put an article aside. One of the trash tabloids ran an article on food swaps to help people lose weight and they ran photos of Tori Spelling, Brittany Snow, Nicky Hilton and Audrina Patridge with the article. A couple of those women are suspected of having some current issues with food. In the article, beside Tori's photo, it suggested that we replace potato salad with cucumber salad, as it's 400 calories versus 50. I found it ironic that they said "beware the family barbeque." I would say that in Tori's case that would only apply if they were worried about the drama from family dynamics, certainly not calories.

`````I once read that many nutritionists themselves have disordered eating. If the "nutrition director" honestly thinks that Tori Spelling needs to worry about the potato salad, the person is a quack. It's a disgusting message to be putting out there.

`````This bias is not merely applied to the stars. I know that I would never get ahead as I'm certainly not good looking. I loathe my appearance and always try to fade into the background. It's prevented me from speaking in university, wanting to apply for jobs or meet new people. Studies prove that women who are good looking have it easier in life and are more apt to be judged in a better light. So, while we cannot discriminate on the basis of some body's colour, we certainly continue to do it on how somebody looks.

`````I certainly hope that they cut this girl (Misha Barton), some slack. Otherwise, she may be just one more woman who resorts to coke or any of the other chemicals out there that help you lose weight fast and keep hunger away.

LEMON REPORT---THIS COMPUTER IS SPELL CHECKING WORDS THAT ARE SPELLED CORRECTLY.

LOOKING BEYOND

`````A number of years ago, I visited a small museum attached to the Ursulines Convent in Quebec City. I was looking at a tapestry when an elderly nun approached me and began to explain its history. It had taken years and years to make, with literally several people working on it. I studied it and could see no breaks in its needlework at all. The museum featured an exhibit of the living condition of the nuns; it was not lavish. I could picture them over the years---hunched over the tapestry in silence or prayer as their hands set to work. Unlike for most women, it would not hang on the walls of a home to be passed down from one generation to another. Then, one day, I went to hear them sing. I say that I went to listen, as one could not observe them, for they were cloistered. The church was in an L shape, and where they sang was not observable to us. The choir was incredible. In not being able to look at them, it was solely the voices that became the focus.

````` I started to think about the concept of an entire society that worked that way; one that wasn't based on how everything looked and packaging. All of our films today are solely driven by CGI and not plot or acting. The leads are often ex-models. Acting skills aren't really that important anymore. Look how quickly Meagan Fox was replaced when she got out of line. There's a lot of good looking women in Hollywood.

`````I doubt that in today's society a person like Janis Joplin would make it. Sure, somebody like Beth Ditto can have a following in a small market, but she is certainly not mainstream. Joplin was huge in the l960's, when people were more accepting of physical imperfections. Now, a size six is seen has over-weight and will be air-brushed. In fact, Katy Perry was recently air-brushed on the cover of "Rolling Stone" magazine. This was once a counter culture magazine and would never have considered doing something like that. No, what sells now is mediocre as long as it looks good. Think Shania Twain and her belly button. All of the top selling songs sound exactly the same.

`````I just read a study which stated that kids who bully get away with it because they look good. This research suggested what I always knew. Nobody would tolerate this sort of behaviour from the less then beautiful. In fact, we let Karla Homolka literally get away with murder. Her husband is sitting in a jail cell still while she is on a sandy beach with her newly beloved and a baby. Had she been three hundred pounds with an over-bite, that deal would never have been made. Justice is not blind when it comes to good looking people.

`````Some people laugh about the fact that men are now also feeling the brunt of the beauty brush stroke. I think it's just sad; more victims. Young boys are now also falling victims to eating disorders. I hardly think that this is equality.

`````If we're going to judge somebody, let's do it because they're rednecks on purpose. Let's condemn them because they do evil deeds. But, to mock people because of their weight, skin colour, height, etc is ignorant. As I said, in some ways, I liked the idea of the convent. All that we heard was the beauty of their voices and we accepted it.

JUST A NOTE,'CAUSE I CARE.

I keep seeing photos of people walking around with masks. This is as a result of their fear of the swine flu. Unfortunately, they are often wearing the masks wrong.

A number of years ago, a friend of mine was a designated fit tester for the Portacount and its attachment. This measures how much particles get through masks and is meant to assure that a tight seal is made on masks and SCBA. He asked if I would be his witness when he tested people and assist him with filing the reams of paperwork that was generated. I told him I would. In watching him do this over a hundred times or so, I picked up a few things and I want to pass it on. I was also his guinea pig when he was getting familiar with the machinery. We tested a lot of different surgical masks. They are pictured above. The little silver prongs are what we attached the hose to. They are not part of the masks but were added by me when we tested them.

If you are going to get a mask, make sure it says N95. Anything below this level means that enough germs will get through the mask to make you sick. We were surprised to find that even some of the professionals had problems putting on masks properly and they failed the tests. Mold the mask to your face. Do not have any hair going under the elastics or the silver piece.

Think condoms. If a seal is broken on a condom, those suckers get in and your safety is jeopardized. Do not break any kind of seal.

Once the mask is on, you can move your head to the side and up and down as long as you do so in a smooth and easy fashion. Do not jerk it to the side. If you had to, you could drive somebody to the hospital wearing one of these.

It would be smart to have the sick person wearing a mask too. That way, if they coughed, they'd seal the germs in the mask much better than their hand would. Do not put on a mask if there is risk of vomiting. They can choke to death.

We found that the best mask was made by 3M. It is the one on the bottom and it is numbered 8210. We kept getting good readings with it. The one that looks like a traditional surgical mask failed on us when we had people do the side to side test as it broke the seal and germs got in.

So there you have it.

IS THE SCALE MY HOLY GRAIL?

I don't know who the artist is. I bought this years ago and it hangs on my wall.

There have been points in my life where, should I have died in a traffic accident and somebody had to clean up my effects, they would have thought that I was a member of the Nicole Richie Fan Club. Not at all; yet, why the photos of her on my fridge and in my datebook? An examination would reveal that they tended to originate in articles of the genre "Deadly Diets Revealed". You've all seen the stories as you line up to pay for your gas or groceries. You know the magazines I'm talking about.

.

Once upon a time, people had missions. Some would crusade in search of the Holy Grail. Many others set forth in rickety boats filled with rats on a voyage that took months. Think of a ship that had no indoor plumbing and people were stacked atop each other like cordwood. They had dreams of a better life and of freedom from persecution. They were driven by hope and guided by the North or Polar Star. So, what has my guiding light been reduced to at times? A scale. Numbers on a pair of jeans.

.

I know the thinking is illogical and wrong but my mind still goes there at times. It goes there a lot.

.

When we focus on achieving the wrong goals there is a price to pay at some point. The last two decades had an emphasis on the accumulation of goods and wealth. As a consequence the entire world economy is now collapsing. People like us are losing their homes and joining the ranks of the unemployed. The emphasis on the superficiality of looks is driving people into relationships that can not withstand the arrival of the newest, shiny model on the market. So much for "til death us do part and in sickness and in health." Replace that with "until some hot looking nanny comes along." Girls will select friends based not on their merits but on their genes.

.

I think this craziness has just made a lot of people give up on their weight. The ideal is so unrealistic that people fall into the all or nothing thinking pattern and start to compulsively overeat. After all, the images we look at aren't of real people. They are altered creations which do not even bear any real resemblance at times to their human counterpart. Our view of food is so skewed that it gets to the point where it has nothing to do with the satisfaction of fulfilling actual hunger or enjoyment of the fare. The food is junk. It's empty, fast food that's crammed in there to satisfy some other unfulfilled need.

.

And I guess it's that void that we have to fill with something meaningful. Not procedures which leave us freakish in an attempt to find eternal youth or hitting one spinning class after another so that we look like the hamster on the proverbial wheel.

.

I want food to mean sitting down with a friend in a nice restaurant and freely enjoying the taste, the ambience and the company. I want my life to have made a difference to at least one other person or creature. I want to one day be free of the caloric encyclopedia in my head which remembers everything yet cannot remember my mother's birthday. And damn it, I want to take Nicole Richie off my fridge like I really and truly mean it!

THE DENIAL OF NEED

~~~~~I had a friend phone from back east and we talked for about four hours again. In doing so, it solidified something for me.

~~~~~I realized that somewhere along the way I equated the need for help or assistance, especially in regards to physical and mental health, with weakness or failure. Conversely, doesn't this also mean that I feel some degree of contempt for people who don't hold their needs in check? Won't I, therefore, look down on people who crave an emotional connection? And what if it's directed towards wanting something from me? How can I then respect that person? There mere fact that they are interested in me then somehow makes them flawed and suspect.

~~~~~There's a belief that smart people should be able to fix their own problems, but it just means that smart people can over analyze them to death. An intelligent person need not know anything about pipes, so there's no shame in calling in the plumber when there's a leak. Why not ask for help when it's of the emotional variety? I guess not having control of the toilets isn't as scary as not having control of the internal crap. Bizarre how I'd pick the plumber metaphor. I guess it's actually quite Freudian. I equate emotions and needs with waste matter---both embarrassing things that one does not talk about; best dealt with in private. Both bad things to be gotten rid of. Dirty.

~~~~~Then it really hit me. We always say that Eating Disorders are about control. Well, what if they are more about the denial of need. Because need is scary. It gives others the power to disappoint, and invariably they do. People are human and will let you down. But, how come I can see that fallibility in others and accept it yet not allow that imperfection in myself?

~~~~~It is impossible to predict the behavior of other people, so it's best to avoid them. You tell yourself that you don't care or need them. When it gets impossible to live that way, just channel that energy on food instead. I do not need even that which is most basic to human survival. Yet, the experts have also concluded that we need human touch and close bonds. So won't the outcome of shutting down emotionally be the same as rejecting nutrition? It just seems to be part of a self destructive pattern that was meant as a coping mechanism but now destroys and isolates.

~~~~~Obviously, we can fixate on our jobs, or cleaning or any other crazed activity that we choose to replace the actual thing that we need. At the end of the day it does not serve us; we remain disconnected from people and events around us and guarded emotionally. It's very limiting and frustrating when the solution seems so simple. I sometimes think that my life is like trying to get that air bubble out from behind a picture which I've mounted. I try to fix it, but it just moves around and doesn't go away. It's always there beneath the surface. So, while I may no longer be starving, I am doing something else. I am certainly not doing it with another human being. My anxiety or depression, like that air bubble trapped under the photo, just keeps popping up in other ways.

`````"Sticks and stones may Break my Bones,

``````But names will never hurt me." Perhaps one of the biggest lies to come out of childhood. For those names that people call themselves, and how they attempt to silence those voices, can ruin their lives.

E.A.P. FORGETS THIS ONE

`````"What happened to her?" Admit it. Either you've asked the question or somebody close to you has. After getting a job a woman you know has suddenly changed drastically in dimensions. I'm not talking the few extra pounds that a person might gain the first year they move away from home; I'm referring to the change which makes people step back. The elephant in the room (no pun intended). `````I've abused food out of anger and frustration myself. While I've written about my eating disorder in past blogs, it takes a long time for it to ever really "go away", especially if one doesn't seek treatment. Like any addiction, a person has relapses. Like any addiction, it is what one falls upon in times of stress.

`````There have been times when I have opened the fridge that I might as well have screamed the "F" word at the top of my lungs. The door was unleashed with the full fury of the prison gates after an evil dictator was felled. Out, out came the demons. The cause? Work. I was 22 years old when I began working in what had until then only recently been a mainly male occupation and they were not happy to employ women. We were sometimes reminded of that on a daily basis. To let them know that they had upset us would let them know that they had won.

`````I laugh when I hear people say that they binged when they refer to eating one cookie too many. I'd go full out. I'd pick up a take out order of spanokopita and then a pint of Haagan Daz. I'd top it off with a can of spray on whipped cream. Don't forget the batter; just eat the cookie dough raw. Of course, the finishing touch was the pink laxatives. They had a speed like effect on me in that they'd make my heart pound and skip and I would not be able to sleep. It took me a while to stop the food abuse. At some point the pain just got too bad. However, I now have severe TMJ so I think my coping mechanisms has just shifted. I still just clamp my mouth shut.

`````When a bad incident would happen at work, the men used to go out afterwards, once upon a time, to have a drink at the Legion. That used to be what people did. However, a woman couldn't do that. If she did, she would be accused of trying to steal somebody's husband or she would be labelled a tramp. How to deal? I think a lot of women resorted to the misuse of food. The Employee Assistance Program, which was developed sometime in the late l980's always seemed to direct itself towards problems which were male centered. Don't drink. Don't take it out on your spouse. I remember one pamphlet which they gave us that actually advised us to take up hobbies such as fishing or hunting. Great. For those on the edge, get a gun and kill something.

`````One woman that I once knew took up body building to the extreme. She would fast prior to a competition and eat nothing but egg whites. She managed to find a doctor who prescribed Ionamin. She somehow managed to sneak clenbuterol across the border for weight loss (which isn't even prescribed for humans). I'm sure she was on steroids, as one day at work she threatened to hit a male supervisor for no reason at all. Her jaw also developed the square build associated with the abuse of certain steroids.

`````I knew somebody else who exercised compulsively and went on and on about its benefits. There is nothing wrong with keeping fit in moderation, but I could tell that this person had crossed the line. We all know when somebody is using a behaviour for the wrong reasons.

`````I've thought about it, and I guess it comes back to that issue of control. We still do not have it to the same degree as men in the work place. Or, we still don't feel like we can voice our opinions. Unfortunately, we still find solace in food.

ANOTHER SAD BUT TRUE STORY OF UGLY BEHAVIOR BY THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

IMAGES SENT TO ME VIA INTERNET BY A FRIEND.
ARTIST UNKNOWN.

I read this and unfortunately it's nothing new. I just wrote about something which related to it. At least this woman could take the outfit off. This is the daily life of a lot of people. By "daily life" I do not mean the weight, as I do not perceive the writer as looking as anything freakish or bad. I am referring to the ignorant and nasty comments or looks that people need to generate. Let's substitute skin colour and see how long this would be accepted. Hate and bias is wrong. It's sad that so many people have so little to offer the world that they focus only on their own looks and that of others. We as a society reward people for looking good. They can be horrid humans with no personality or intellect. They subsequently develop a sense of entitlement to rival that of Marie Antoinette's. I hope that some of the people recognize themselves and are embarrassed after this article appears................................................................................................................................................................ What happened when we sent a 'fattie' to London Fashion Week? Kate Faithfull reports back on her week on the fatwalk Mail Online

PERFECT, OR ELSE FIRED.

I just read an article that a number of people are trying to get a female presenter on a children's program removed. Her offence? Not that she dresses like a tramp, or has been caught doing drugs. No. She has a stump; as in part of an arm. Those who have complained fear that she will upset the children.

Unfortunately, I suspect that most of the people complaining are probably women. Realistically, they would be the ones at home during the day to notice what constitutes children's shows. I've also noticed that this is the sort of thing that women got "wound up" about. With all the important issues out there that could take one's time, this is the nonsense that tends to get the people I term the "happy homemaker brigade" going. I must add that I have nothing against stay at home Mom's. My spleen is being emptied at those women who must have it all seemingly perfect. It must all look good. They'll dither away only about appearance and not substance. The women who will make cutting comments about others in the presence of their children and then be surprised that they grow up to be lousy humans who bully others. They'll also be honestly puzzled as to where it came from.

I hated that process in school when we had to select kids for teams. I was always in shape in elementary school; in fact, I could outrun the boys. Yet, if it was my turn to pick people for the team, I'd make sure to pick the girl who was heavy near the start. For once, I did not want her to suffer being selected last. As I had once gotten teased for my accent, I knew what it was like to be the outsider. I refused to play that game. My mere doing that garnered me a reputation for not fitting in.

Kids don't learn this junk in a vacuum. It's bad enough to be influenced by the crap on television that tells girls that dressing like a tramp and being brain-dead is good. They don't need their parents suggesting the same. Each and every time they make some negative comment on a person's looks, that's what they do. Never mind the I.Q., it's the surface that matters.

While those with physical handicaps are trying to make inroads, this is beyond the pale. Children may be curious as to why a woman has one arm. What a perfect learning opportunity. I suspect that these people are nothing but hypocrites. To suggest that they have ulterior motives--that the kids are scared, is a cover story. I doubt that they have any qualms about sending their little darlings out on Halloween decked out like a ghoul.

Sadly, it's not an isolated case. In the spring there was a story of people complaining that they didn't want to take their children to a public pool as veterans of the Afghanistan war who were using the pool as a rehabilitative tool looked upsetting. These people who had served their country and lost limbs. Yes, the thanks of a grateful nation indeed.

This is a new phenenomena. Not that long ago people expected their children to be able to handle life. My goodness, cities in Europe were being bombed daily and people made it through. Yet, we now cannot handle a less than perfect human being.

I predict that in the near future we will be able to ascertain who has money from those who don't by how they look. The good looking people will be the upper class as they can afford to fix their appearance. It was once breeding and education that marked the difference.

The fallout is coming to companies that are asking women to wear stiletto heels and makeup. High-heels can permanently alter one's bone structure and risk a slip and fall. Note the double standard that men are not being asked to "upgrade" themselves somehow. Yet.

I hope this woman keeps her job. But, I can imagine her chagrin and pain. The BBC had better not backdown to these morons who'd rather have perfect looks over a real human being who loves children.

WHY THE PAIN?

Some time ago I responded to a post that was on Medusa's blog about cutting. I did so under "annonymous". A comment was given that caused me to reflect and inspired me to write further about what I had stated. I would like to give thanks to Medusa and her blog. She does a great service in providing information and reference material. On a personal note, it caused me to look into an issue that I hadn't thought about for a long time. While it is not something that I have engaged in often in my life in comparison to some people, it should not be something to which one needs to resort at all. What follows is a response as to why people do it and not a personal annecdote. Perhaps I shall blog about that some other time. Incidentally, this is in reponse to the commonly held belief by many people that people engage in this behavior in order to get attention and the issuers of that statement is to whom I direct my comments. I hope that people realize that it's not acting out by their children in order to get "their way" but rather indicative of something more profound. It's not to get attention. Don't ask about motivation. If we cannot even begin to describe how we feel we are hardly going to be capable of telling you what drives us. What follows is an attempt. There is some strange disconnect that happens. It's like living in a parallel universe where we walk and talk and to all those present we seem to be part of the play. But the real action takes place behind the scenes when the curtain is drawn and the audience goes home. We can finally drop the facade. The last thing we want is the stage lights focused on us. We want to be invisible---to pull off the ultimate illusion and disappear in plain sight. Everything seems like an act. We know when to smile and to laugh so that we pass. It's like the animal that camoflauges itself to survive in hostile conditions. We do it to get through life.

We see numb as good. It's certainly an improvement from crushing depression or anxiety or the ever pounding drumbeat that assaults us like a hammer with its message of "no good". That chorus is as familiar to us as the sound of your heartbeat is to you. It is also as constant. Sometimes, just for a second, we find a way to make it stop. It is what we do to take ourselves out of our world and for that brief instant focus on something else. Maybe it's a chemical change, the so-called endorphan rush that others derive from jogging or jumping out of planes. Why are these abuses of the body or risks acceptable while ours is not? Why can you opt to tattoo your body or pierce and brand your skin as a form of self expression or as a way to mark passages in your life? We mark ourselves also, but we do it to express the mundane that we can find no words for in our vocabulary.

What it comes down to is control. This time, I control the pain, not those women who shoot me looks as I dare to cross their path during the course of my day, not the news telling me of yet another lost species, nor a job which holds its employees in contempt. I get to dish it out on my terms. There is an incredible amount of relief derived from this abililty. Perhaps the sense of safety is a false one but it is the only net available. It is our source of power. We don't want people to see it. You so rarely see anything else about us, why would we want this, of all things, to be noticed? What arrogance to think that we seek that attention.

Most of us can remember the first time we did it, the way others recall their first experience with sex or alcohol. I was ten and a green glass vase had fallen off the table during a fight. I was now alone in the living room and the slivers on the floor were somehow alluring in the light. I picked up one of the shards and looked at it for merely a second before something drove me to apply a small amount of pressure and drag it down my forearm. Like the glass itself, the pain was somewhat pristine and pure. It was just a scratch. Contrary to the song, the first cut isn't the deepest. Maybe some people can do it the one time and then walk away, but others are like the addict who knows where the cure is. At some point, we come back to it. And like the addict, we all have our drug of choice. Ours just might be the razor on the arm, the flashlight to the forehead or the hot lightbulb to the wrist. We use it to make ourselves a calm little spot within the hurricane around us. Pain becomes our buffer zone. But it's our hurt; we control it. Like all junkies we hide our disease from others because we feel as though we cannot cope without it. We wear long sleeves in the summer and have ready excuses of accidents incurred should anybody actually notice and ask. People so rarely do. Our coping mechanisms have become so limited that the thought of losing our little "trick" scares us. We have no other outlet with which to express our anguish or lack another person with whom we can share our grief. It's not to get attention.

REMEMBERING "W"

One of my part-time jobs when I was younger was with the school board. That's where I met "W", who was a guidance counseller at one of the high-schools. I'll call her Jane for the duration of the blog.

There was no hiding my problem at the time. I was 83 pounds; I know that as I weighed myself everytime I used the washroom. I had been told that I'd risk death when I hit 90 pounds. Yet, here I was---doing maintenance and working hard for eight hours a day. What did the doctors know, I thought. People with eating disorders can often spot each other and I knew that there was something up with Jane. She wasn't all that thin, but there is still that vibe. She was always on her bike and had a very driven, manic quality about her.

Jane and I started to talk and we soon realized that we had a lot in common. She'd been very ill years earlier, but had gained weight. While she looked healthier, she was still slim and certainly not recovered. Like many people with eating disorders, she passed. Jane was what some people might call an exercise bulimic. If she ate too much she would spend hours on her bike. Eating too much was anything beyond her diet of Metamuicil and Cup-of-Soup.

She told me briefly of some abuse and neglect in her childhood. I didn't push it as I could tell she didn't want to say more. Her face was cherubic and always smiling. It hid so well all of the turmoil within. Jane had a fantastic rapport with the students.

At the time there was no treatment in that small town for eating disorders. The doctors had no clue. A person could spiral out of control for a very long time.

When I left the job and returned to school I would talk to Jane every once in a while. After I graduated university and started working I got a call from her. She was desperate. One of the students had a bad eating disorder and her parents were refusing to see it. The girl could not talk to her family doctor as he'd probably disclose all to her family. There wasn't a crisis centre available in the town at the time and even if there had been, no sixteen year old would call in there. Her family was very religious and psychiatry did not correspond to their beliefs. Jane was stymied; she couldn't cross boundaries and share too much with the girl nor could she see her outside of school hours too often.

Jane had a proposition. According to the experts, I was headed down the road to recovery. After all, I had gained weight. I had a new job in a nontraditional one for women and I had to meet a standard of physical fitness to do so. Would I be willing to take calls from this girl and listen to her? Without realizing it, Jane was setting up a peer support network.

It was a hard choice as, had her parents found out and made a fuss, I would have been fired. My job had a strong code of conduct and it could have looked bad. After all, who was I to help their daughter? But, nobody else was doing it either. So, I agreed and for a while she would phone me up and I would mostly listen. She did not know who I was, nor did I know her. I was a number that she could call.

After a while my commute became too hard and I had to move. The shift work made it impossible for me to continue to take the calls, but when I ran into Jane years later I heard that the girl was doing okay.

I've not heard from Jane in about ten years. I think of her when people start on rants about school teachers and counsellors not doing enough. Sometimes, they are the only people willing to step up to the plate; even at great risk to themselves. I hope that Jane is doing well, but my last sighting of her indicated that she had seemed to have slipped back into starvation.

REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST...PROUST ATE THE MADELEINE, BUT I NEVER DID.

....................................I held the uniform's skirt in my hand and studied it for a second before deciding to pull it on. Would it fit? I slid one leg in and then the other. I was joyous to see that it went on with room to spare. It was way too short, but the waist was loose. I then got really scared; this was wrong. Even I could see this now. I was twenty-one years old and the skirt I had just fit into was my Brownie outfit. I had last worn this when I was seven.

What had happened? How did I, a smart person attending university find myself in front of a closet furitively wearing a child's outfit? I'd been on the track team in high-school yet I no longer had the energy to run. In fact, I had tried to kick at something the other day and had literally toppled over. My lips were black from malnutrition. They looked like I had eaten licorice ice-cream; incredibly ironic in that it was an item that hadn't been enjoyed in years. My hair was falling out and had taken on an odd copper colour.

I have always fought for justice and the under-dog. Had somebody told me the story of a woman who was starved and made to walk or work long hours merely to eat sustenance level rations lacking any nutritional value I would have written letters in protest and done something to help. I would have sought vengence on the individual who perpetrated the deed. What do you do when the victim and criminal are one and the same? Who do you fight for?

To be honest, I had known something was wrong long before this moment. Like the abused child who drops signs in front of school counsellors hoping that somebody might notice I had mentioned things to various people. I had gone to the health department at university reporting that my period had stopped. I was actually glad that it was gone as I no longer suffered from cramps, but I knew that something was amiss. Nobody stopped me...they all missed the obvious. There was something thrilling but scary in this ability to be able to disappear in plain sight. I had somehow managed to become invisible. I could stand in front of an audience and slowly but surely kill myself and nobody saw. The fact that not a soul would stand up and yell "stop" merely added to my sense of unworthiness.

Over the years I have spoken to people who are self injurers and they report the same phenomena. The constant cuts, the burns, the black eyes never even garnered a question. They never had to have a handy excuse because nobody even thought to ask what happened. I started to think of the monks who set themselves ablaze in the early 1960's to protest the injustice of the Vietnam War. What would it take to get somebody to care enough to make me stop? Sitting down in the middle of the street, setting the can of petrol beside me, pouring it out, the match? At what point, if ever, would somebody say enough?

Mind you, at this point it's not like there were all that many people left to notice. I had made it my goal to distance myself from people. I had never been an overtly social person; I had always felt somewhat reticent in a crowd. It is ironic that I had initially used the diet as a way to make me more comfortable in group situations and to make me more appealing to others. For a while it worked really well. I had more confidence and people were drawn to me. I managed to meet a whole assortment of new and interesting people and I found myself engaging in behavior in which I would not have felt at ease previously. I was having fun. But, I guess it's like any other addiction. When you talk to people who drink or use coke to make social situations more palatable it's initially like they've discovered the missing link or Holy Grail. Somewhere along the way it changes and that same person suddenly finds themselves alone in a room with hidden bottles or cutting a line every five minutes just to maintain sanity. Having anybody around would mean the full depths of the behavior would be revealed.

Anorexia is different in another way too because one is always so tired. It's hard to maintain a conversation even; the exhaustion is that severe. It's hard to engage in anything when one is always hungry and fixated on food. I have a black out over many events of that time, much as an alcoholic would. What I do remember is what I ate. The bran muffins that I consumed in the cafeteria that had to take one entire hour to eat. I will recall with clarity the salad bar and the pickles that I ate in class to somehow override an all consuming famine. Don't ask me the name of the course or the people in it or even the names of the people who were my friends at the time. The disease robbed me even of my memories. All memories except for food.

If it were only that I lost contact with people because of feeling tired I would not have to also suffer an ongoing guilt. This illness has the end result of not making you a very nice person. One becomes suspicious that all events which revolve around food are some conspiracy hatched to make you eat. Realistically, what good events do not involve food? Strike that off the list. Concern is perceived as part of the master plan to make you fat. You begin to see yourself as some goose who is going to be force fed for the nefarious purpose of destroying you. After all, better dead than fat, so any attempt at having you gain weight is like a death plot. It becomes easier to sever all ties.

Anorexia is not the glamorous and thin model. It is me, working my summer job and being so hungry that the chicken in the garbage can that somebody else ate is driving me crazy. So crazy that I hunt it out and consume it. It is taking a box of those little pink laxatives because you finally ate and then staying awake the entire night and then the next day too exercising. It is seeing your mother cry from worry.

Guilt. It sticks with me like an ankle monitoring device. You cannot tell the dead that you are sorry. For, how are they to know that my rejection of them was because at 83 pounds I felt fat and unworthy? That it had nothing to do with them? All they knew was that I suddenly left their lives. There's that great line by Tennessee Williams which states that "time is the greatest distance between two places." I can never get it back. The weight, yes. But not the time, or the people and the lives destroyed.