I like to dance. I’ve had little in the way of training – I took a belly course once, and I studied gymnastics for a few years which is somewhat related. I’ve learned that training doesn’t matter, especially if you’re not onstage making it a career. Dancing is from the heart. And the hips. Don’t forget the hips. And lift those feet. Of course, finding … Continue reading Saturdays are for dancing.
I’m wearing pants today. This is a big win – I haven’t worn pants in a long time. This isn’t to say I walk around in only skirts, or naked from the waist down. But pants, or rather tailored trousers, are a challenge. Historically, I only wear oversized or covered-up. [i] I have four pairs of baggy track pants that make up the majority of … Continue reading Clothing and eating disorders – it’s complicated.
My family doesn’t talk about important personal stuff. We’ll get into the nitty-gritty when it’s politics or important global issues – we tend to skew liberal, except for that ugly period when my father was listening to Rush Limbaugh. We had an intervention. We even talk about money, uni-directionally. My father regularly wants to know “how’s your debt, do you need any cash?” I mostly … Continue reading We don’t talk about Bruno in my family either.
Eating disorders have one goal, and it’s not to get you thin. An eating disorder is trying to get you dead. There is no weight, no body shape, and no silhouette that is acceptable. The goals constantly shift. Additionally, recovery requires that you still engage with all the things that are problematic, and that are killing you. You cannot give up eating. You cannot give … Continue reading Eating disorder recovery is a bitch.
From Famine to Feast 