Food Rules!


I don’t have a pen and paper.  Nor do I have any of my magical markers, fancy drink, a tub and a wide variety of prescription pills in my reach. I have a sugar free red bull, a coffee and half a joint in my pocket. My horse of a dog is putting around and mostly only paying attention to me when another dog comes near me. There aren’t many today. It’s lovely and sunny and local kids are playing on the usually occupied by dogs spots’.  I don’t mind ~ I really wasn’t tolerating the distractions very well and am welcoming the opportunity to challenge myself to sit without all of those aforementioned “needs”.

{Oh look 5 dogs, I shall stare at them for 7 minutes…}

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist this morning who I like quite well. I refer to him as Dr. Mustache. Yelp, says he isn’t friendly or warm. And, he isn’t. Until he is impressed. It occurred to me today as I sat speaking to him and questioning him if I am making sense that he isn’t easily impressed and that is exactly what I ~ being somebody who is always impressed with even a hello from a person ~ needs.

I need professional counsel, because I think myself into way too many boxes. I appreciate him listening to all my words and helping to understand the values of giving the medication a chance. He understood my discussion about creating a controlled mania and I wasn’t embarrassed or shamed. I am sure some of feeling that way is because I can more easily these days discuss some of my crazy with conviction.

Lately it’s been all about the rules. There is no rhyme or reason to them. The rules are thoughts that randomly enter my thought stream and become a behavior. As they become one, of course they multiply like horny rabbits and I essentially end up with a head full of shit.

I have anorexia, have since I was sixteen. Similiar to alcoholism, it is something I have had to become mindful of to live and be a functional person. Some people aren’t as fortunate as myself and feel almost guilty for saying I am aware of a problem, I am fine and I’ll control it. Eating disorders hold that magical power of the need for the poison.


I simply yell that because the tainted part of my brain says “meh, I need no food now”. I haven’t done the recovery work with anorexia that I have done with my alcoholism. What I have come to understand through various treatments over time is those twelve steps.

Alot of days, if I may, are just a respective notion of “yup. I’ve got a fuckin problem”. I know it’s not the “proper” way to accept a disease and it is definately a form of self harm, I am just picking my poison.

What about anorexia entertains me?

My stomach was growling recently and TripleEx asked if I was hungry. I answered no and he pressed for an answer on why my stomach would be growling like that?

It had been a day since I had eaten.

I answered, “My stomach makes weird noises all the time.”

I’m not interested in the food, it never occurred to me to be hunger. I’m not that powerful and I have been wishing to lose my appetite for at least twenty years, I can’t help but say I am a tad impressed with my tenacity.

Food has always been a reward for me. If I follow the ever hanging rules of engagement I can consume. It’s not calories – its volume. When I am training I am rewarded with quality nutrition. Lean meats, vegetables, WATER, and I could never give up quality cheeses; I don’t give a shit what my body says. If my house is organized, my work is properly managed, and my people are all happy – I can eat a bit. When I am having sex regularly – which hasn’t been since early November – I can have some food.

You get it. It’s a rat race and I don’t envy anybody who suffers with an ED. Gone are the days of wishing I could be as good as that one. Even when I’m on mark – there is never a feeling of satisfaction. No climax – only a pretty dress on a sad girl.

I don’t want to be the sad girl anymore. Someday maybe I won’t be. Each day (not the suck ass days) I try to do something to work toward some peace of mind and body. That may be as simple as taking a shower and not relishing the starving artist look I fall into so easily. Or, as I am doing this week – cleaning out my entire house and taking the apartment upstairs as my own. It will be my suite persay. It is exciting and emotionally charged at once. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say about it in a week or so. Timing is everything. Waiting for the right time to make a move is always a good idea for me, as long as I have the time to spare. I told you I joined the army for six years on my lunch break one day long ago. I only had 45 minutes to make the decision.

I don’t have lots of answers and poignant thoughts today. I really wanted to reach out and share the emotional space I am in. That is what I set out to do with this space. Reach others with my everyday struggles so that I don’t feel so alone in the vast universe. My world feels so much wider when I can share my words with a reader. I am gifted ten times over for every experience that is shared. Thank you.

Copyright © 2011-2012. Eggs.Smoke.Sex. All rights reserved.

Words and images on this blog are copyrighted and not to be reproduced in any way without my express permission in writing. Please contact me with any queries at

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s