Recently I saw a Dutch article pop up in my timeline, titled “Managic Anorexic: On the Border of Having and Not Having an Eating Disorder.” Being an anorexic myself, I felt compelled to read it as I was unable to believe that there could be “managing anorexics.”
The holidays are always a season of mixed feelings for me when it comes to eating. On the one hand, I really like indulging in the good food that is being served, but because I am overweight, I never allow myself to truly enjoy the food — especially when I’m not around my family — because I’m too worried about what others might think.
The table looks gorgeous. The napkins have been carefully selected to make sure they match the Christmas tree — beautifully decorated, of course — and so we can wipe our hands in style after having devoured all the delicious foods. After all, it’s almost 2014; a new year in which we resolve to really get in shape, so it seems we’d better savour it while we can.
She had a suitcase with her and put it in the luggage rack above my head, then sat down next to me. She looked normal: she had sleek hair, wore a winter coat, checked out her iPod Touch like any other human being would. She was a bit pale, but hey, I look like a ghost myself during the winter, so who am I to judge her for that? But the thing I couldn’t ignore, was the feeding tube in her nose. It was an earmark of the disease we cannot see.
Everyone needs a safe haven. A house that is a home, someone close to you that you can always rely on, or some hobby or activity that makes you forget all your worries for a moment. It makes you feel comfortable and, of course, safe. Then there is the mental safe haven, where you just feel comfortable with everything in your life. But this is actually the most dangerous place for me to be.