The Price of 'Admission' - This Ain't No Fairy Tale...

Time to let the cat out of the bag so to speak...They say the first step is admitting you have a problem..

It's no secret that I have struggled with not only with lifelong body image issues due mostly in part to my mother when I was growing up, but also due to the traumatic middle school years of being the outcast of the school due to weight. 

Entering that age of teenagerism and all that goes along with 'becoming a woman' and you get some pretty radical crap going on.  What you dont know is some of the 'issues' I endured for a few short years(ha..short..as if years of any degree of crap can be called 'short' when it comes to even a day)...anyway thats a part of my life I wont ever talk about here, but at least you know there were many contributing factors.

Once in high school, yes things changed, and then throughout my life I did the up and down thing, only really remembering now 2 specific periods in my life where I was considered at my heaviest.  A couple of years immediately following high school and then again in 2004 when I became classified as 'hypothyroid'.

In all the other years between there, there were 'addictions' after 'addictions' as its true what they say:  when a person with an addictive personality gives up one, they replace it with another.  There were drugs.  There was alcohol.  There were cigarettes.  There was man after man after man.  And now I have running!!!  :o)Thankfully there were a few good men in there for long periods of time that 'settled' me down to some degree...but then of course I would evitably ruin it ... pushing them away with something I would do to accomplish that... always blaming them.

Fast forward to 2004 when things started going all kinds of wrong with me physically.  Hypothyroidism is not something to play around with and I had some of the more harmful symptoms of it.  So much so that I knew something was definitely wrong.  I think though out of all of those awful things, of course the most awful was the weight gain.  I went from about a size 4 to a size 10. 

Now before you get all up in my grill that a size 10 is not big, first keep in mind that I am 5'1 (and a half) :) ... and that I was a size 4ish at the time...I was trying everything...well everything except running.  I had always been a gym rat and I thought cardio of any kind was ridiculous.  But one of my dear friends Marianne was a 'runner' and thats how she lost and stayed thin...so I started on the treadmill...

Nothing.

FF to me finally going to the doctor, getting diagnosed and on meds.  By this time I had moved from the treadmill to the outdoors and I was hooked on running.  Or run/walking.  Ok Ok, jog/walking.  But I wasnt walk/walking.  :o)

Then I started training for a 1/2 marathon.  I dont really remember now but I know some weight dropped off.  Not a lot.  Then I finished that and went on to train for the full marathon a few months later (now we are going on number 5 in October and number 6 in January).  No real change.  I didnt know how to eat and train.  Well I did know how to eat!  I was feeding all the hunger!!...therein laid the problem.  I know I looked different but I dont recall anything on a scale really...

It wasnt till right after that marathon in January 2007 when I really started up again with wanting the weight to be gone...specifically the pull and desire and obsession to be 'skinny' again.  I was deeply infatuated with a man, who didnt seem to mind how I looked but all I thought (because it was difficult to hold his attention or win his attention) was that 'if I was skinny...'

The comparing myself to others whether they were real, on television on in print started to escalate.  I dont remember much about my eating patterns then...Then in 2008 it really started to escalate even more.  I would go through bouts of self loathing and hatred.. I would take a lot of frustration out on others, closing myself off, ruining some friendships...in others relationships it caused strife...but it was never apparent as to 'why' I was doing the things I was doing...

By the time I ran NYC marathon in November 2008 I looked the best I had in a long time.  Not skinny, but thin(ner) and fit.  However now...when I look at that picture thats in my NYC finishers plaque I see 'fat'.  Compared to how I look now. 

Then 2009 hit.  I have had a lot of 'bad' years in my life, but none so awful as 2009.  Most people wouldnt know that, but its true.  Mentally I hit rock bottom.  I was still without what I would call a 'real' job; barely making enough to pay the bills, I finally completely 'lost' the man I spoke of above (who was not only someone I loved, but at the end of the day was my best friend and confidante), I shut myself off even more and of course...all the while thinking it was because "I wasnt thin enough".  "I wasnt pretty enough".  "I couldnt run fast enough".  And you know I wasnt pretty enough or fast enough because why?  Because I needed to lose weight.

Thats when I found all these blogs out there.  Of foodies.  And runners who were foodies.  And runners who were foodies and were incredibly skinny.  But they showed all this food.  But this eye, even now, looking at their pictures...I know there isnt really that much on that plate.  The camera lies, lies, lies.  But...secretly by reading their blogs I was gaining insight into how I could be like that.  I could eat that little.  And I could keep running...and I found blogs of fit people, who had eating disorders...trying to overcome them...all their secrets lay right there in print on my screen. 

Like when one goes to prison, they come out more of a criminal than when they went in?  Here I was someone with a blossoming eating disorder finding tricks of the trade in cyberspace by those that thought they might be helping someone...oh they were helping me alright.  Helping me to fine tune just what I shouldnt and shouldnt be doing...and yes I meant to type shouldnt twice.  :o)

Just last night, as I was riding along with a friend to go get something to eat, two men were running opposite us on Memorial.  One was not wearing a shirt, and honestly was in good shape.  However I zero'd in on the fact that his pecs were 'moving' as he ran.  And then out of nowhere my friend said "thats how I think I look right now so I ran with my shirt on tonight".  Again this man was NOT fat.  Not even close.  But yet, not only was I judging and thinking 'wow, he could be thinner', so was this man in the car next to me.  Runners are a rare breed indeed...

Then today happened.  I opened up my Google Reader and found this on a blog I read regularly...Charlotte who is I describe as 'all around no nonsense in your face tell it like it is' blogger with a history of eating disorders...

 I Eat Everything!

Now I have been reading her blog for quite some time and fits nicely into the category above, meaning I was pulling tidbits from her past, and implementing them into mine...thinking I admired her and I wasnt like 'that'... I could do bits and pieces and I would never be someone with a disorder.  And I do...but in that last sentence, admiration was mis-directed.

Thing is...I've had one for what?  30 years now?  Its just now progressing to a point where even I cant ignore it...not like anorexia or anything...I am pretty certain I could never do that...I adore food too much...I just have issues with it  :o)

This blog post of hers not only hit me smack dab on the head, but it knocked me down, kicked me, broke my ribs and I'm limping...there are so many words in her post that are mine.  She stole them.  Not really, but you know what I mean.  Specifically this first paragraph:

Dining with me is an experience. And often it's not one conducive to gastronomic pleasure. I've admitted in the past to a multitude of eating sins including, but not limited to, looking up calorie counts on my phone during the meal, saying said calorie counts aloud, driving a waitress to the brink of madness with the complexity of my special order and then refusing to eat more than one bite of said meal when it was brought to me. I've sat hungry through beautiful Easter banquets. And then chewed and spit a bag of sugar free jelly beans in the parking lot of the convenience store where I bought them. I've self-righteously turned down homemade, once-in-a-lifetime English Trifle. And then cried as I made myself run an extra mile the next day for "insurance" against future once in a lifetime Trifles.  My disorder started at the age of 12 and had become so ingrained over the years that I honestly had no hope of ever eating like a normal person.

ALL OF THAT APPLIES TO ME..except that Trifels thing..I dont even know what once in a lifetime English Trifle is.  But how many times have I added on insurance mileage?  Quite often.

And then there is this too:

I realized that much of my eating behavior is driven by fear. I'll avoid eating when I'm hungry because I'm afraid that I'll eat the whole world, that I'll be so hungry I'll never stop or because I'm afraid admitting hunger is a sign of weakness or because what I'm really hungry for I won't allow myself to eat. I'll eat when I'm not hungry because I'm afraid that there won't be food I will allow myself to eat wherever I'm going later or because it tastes so good I'm afraid there won't be more or because I'm eating something I'm not "supposed" to eat and I'm afraid I'll never get to eat it again or because somebody made me something special.

And exactly how many times have I said or written this?  I was constantly in the mindset of needing to "earn my food." If I didn't, for some reason, get a workout in then I didn't eat.

I remember distinctly maybe a month ago posting something just like that on my Facebook.  I couldnt run that night, therefore there would be no eating.

Last night I was bummed out that the jeans I chose to wore ... well I couldnt pull them on without unzipping and unbuttoning.  This to me was tragic.  Last time I wore them I could.  I wonder now if my indecisiveness on helping choose where to eat was based on because I knew I really couldnt eat much due to this jeans situation?  Good God ... This morning...I picked out another pair of jeans...And I was happy that yes indeed, I didnt have to unzip or unbutton them to pull them up. 

Then I read that blog post.  And I felt sick to my stomach.  I went immediately to Google and searched for an online quiz of some sort to help me determine whether or not I had an eating disorder.

Guess what?  I scored a 26 out of 30 and that put me in the HIGHLY LIKELY category for developing an eating disorder. 

The only reason it wasnt higher I think was because there were a couple of questions about if I ever threw up (on purpose) or wanted to throw up after eating.  Lets get something straight.  Thats something I could never ever do.

I do love food.  I am just afraid of it obviously. But if Im gonna eat it, its staying right there in MAH BELL-LEE!

Since October 2009 I have dropped about 15 lbs I guess.  I havent weighed in quite some time, mostly because I started marathon training and its really hard to lose weight because you have to eat to fuel ... but let me tell you I have pushed the envelope this time on seeing just how little fuel I can get by with (did I mention I am also hypoglycemic?).  Therefore I think I might be a tad skinnier than the last time I did weigh?  Not sure.  I keep thinking I want to get on there...but then I am afraid that the number will be too high...what an idiot I am.    Incidentially on that quiz I took it asked for height weight age.  And my BMI (as if those things are accurate) put me in the Normal range. 

Obviously...if you've read this whole post...you now know that I am no where remotely what I would consider Normal.

I have a lot of thinking to do...as a runner, at least here in the running community I run with, thin(ner) is the goal and is praised....verbally... on any given Saturday morning meet up for a long run...you hear the words being spoken...OMG you look grrrrrrreat!  How much weight have you dropped?  They are all around you... Even 1/2 lb is that much less you have to carry around for however many miles...

The pressure, at least to me, is overwhelming. All I want to do is get to Boston. And in my mind, even though I am no where near fast...is that if I get skinny enough, that'll be my magic carpet ride to Beantown...and lets get real...I AM faster...but is it because I lost weight?  More than likely yes, that much is true.  But really at this point any more lost gonna make a difference?...I dont know....and on top of alllllllllllllll of that, there is this thing about getting older (40's)...keeping up with the youngin's...must stay youthful (i.e. skinny? wtf?)...must hear 'omg I hope I look like you when I'm your age! You look awesome!'...must remain sexy...attractive to men...and yes, attractive to women...lets face it...at the end of the day the critics we wish to silence with envy are the women...

So...I wonder...what this 'admission' has really cost me?  This 'admission' of my faults?  And lastly the admission of not knowing whether or not I can change how I act and feel?  

Thank you Charlotte.  (I think)... ;o)