Until quite recently, I was afraid to eat a lot of things. I didn’t reintroduce banned foods back into regular rotation. I struggled to accept a different body. What if I got fat and bad things happened? But bad things happen regardless of weight. I knew that, but I didn’t know it if you know what I mean.  

But things have changed fundamentally of late and there’s a weirdness to that. I’m not sure what happened or when. It’s probably the cumulation of several things. I do know the shift is relatively recent.

I think I’m in my “fuck it” era.

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Some people think that changing a behaviour requires a change in mindset. This turns out to be backwards. Our brains learn to think, and learn what to think, with repetition. We carve paths and patterns with our behaviours. New behaviours need new paths. You need to travel those new paths a few times before your thinking catches up.

I’m not sure that’s a survival characteristic, but it is how we roll.

For example, I didn’t start thinking like a non-smoker and then quit smoking. I stopped smoking and the desire to engage in the behaviour changed the more times I didn’t smoke.

I stopped throwing up long before my eating disorder brain started evolving.

I don’t love the extra flesh on my body. And by “extra,” I still mostly mean anything beyond bone. I still think about restricting, but in that way one thinks about taking up soccer or track again.

It’s not going to happen. Even as I grip the ten pounds on my stomach and groan at my thighs, I react differently. I’m full of hatred and disgust, but it feels like the normal kind owned by women. Which is a tragedy of a different sort.

There are still some concerning behaviours. I measure myself more than most people do, and not with measuring tape.

What does my stomach look like if I’m bending over or in a plank – eating disorders aren’t much interested in the finer points of reality, like gravity.

How much horizontal space am I taking up (you measure that one on a wall or chair, depending on the need of the moment)? Does my stomach pooch out when I sit (my eating disorder also says menopause is a lazy excuse. She’s such a hag)? How big is my upper arm? What’s the circumference of my thigh?

I check these things regularly throughout the day, along with a couple of other tells. But the behaviours and the self-condemnations are half-hearted these days, habitual more than passionate. I think it will start to fade away as I continue to let the thinking behind it go.

I’m approaching the part of recovery that is habitual. It’s a good thing, but also a bit of a pisser. That means my body dysmorphic disorder is on deck. ^[i]

Good times.

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[i] I’m following an elimination diet for the next few weeks. Body dysmorphia leads to an obsessive focus on imperfections and things that destroy symmetry. I have problems with my skin and joints that I’ve long suspected are related to my consumption of wheat and aspartame. The skin problems trigger the BDD. Unfortunately, I like consuming those things. We’ll see how things improve with the eating plan and gradual reintroduction. I think I’m probably going to be unhappy with the conclusions.

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