Femininity means what to me, exactly?

When I gain weight, a part of recovering from my eating disorder I find difficult, it hits the female body parts first. My breasts and hips and thighs show the weight gain before it appears anywhere else. My body type is on the curvy side and I’ve always hated that fact.

Bones and angles have long been my goal. Nothing feminine to see here folks, so move along. I doctor years ago suggested that for some, an eating disorder is a rejection of being female. I mocked his assertion but now I’m not so sure…

I should probably want to quit smoking.

I’m trying to quit smoking.

And by trying, I mean I think about quitting smoking, but I don’t do much beyond cutting back a bit. If it gets uncomfortable, I go back to previously established levels.

A favourite quote of mine is, “Nothing changes if nothing changes.”

A good corollary would be, “Nothing changes if you don’t really want change.”…

When we’re dying.

Things sink in at the damndest times.

Thoughts I’ve had for years but haven’t felt in my bones percolate under the surface and then for no apparent reason, pop into my consciousness, but with depth and gut-deep understanding attached. They become more than words I say because I’m supposed to believe them even though large chunks of me don’t.

I love “ah-ha” moments. That point in time when you finally get it…

An Eating Disorder Journal entry.

I binged and purged last night. It was the fat thoughts. I’ve gained about ten pounds and the weight that is supposed to help me is killing me, or at least that’s what it feels like. Thinner, thinner, thinner is all I think about now. Diet hard, exercise. Forget quitting smoking, forget friends and family. Forget writing, forget recovery, forget life. Forget everything but getting thin, back to bones…