One of my favorite weekend activities is browsing the $1 book stacks outside of The Strand. It's like a treasure hunt, sorting through piles of random topics, unedited advanced copies and outdated how-tos. And there's nothing more thrilling than paying for three books with change.
Yesterday, I walked away with a few books, including one entitled, Going Hungry: Writers on Desire, Self-Denial and Overcoming Anorexia, which I've been poring over all day.
Let me qualify my choice and put my parents' minds at ease by saying straight out that I've never had an eating disorder. What drew me to hand over the $1 for it is the concept of want and self-denial, which I think is one of the most fascinating things to read about. The idea that we are constantly checking our true wants in order to appear socially appropriate, or in this case, as a means to an end.
What has surprised me most about the book is how much it's made me evaluate my own eating habits, the way I think about food, and my body. I've actually been thinking about posting on this topic for awhile, but never knew how to approach it without sounding like I was generalizing about a serious issue. I've decided that the best way is to just write about my own experience.
Another reason why I've always hesitated about putting down my thoughts on the topic is that I have this image of males responding with this: "Groan, another broad with body image issues." I'm not quite sure why I paint the worst, most insensitive response in my head, but I suspect it's a reflection of my own reaction. How cliché, I think.
Here's what I believe, based on me: it is a slippery slope between fairly normal, acceptable eating/body concerns to a full-blown, diagnosable eating disorder. There is no definite line to cross, and starting at the harmless end can quickly and easily lead to the other extreme. It's just a question of whether you get there or not.
Here is what I know to be true about my relationship with my body and with food. You, dear readers, can judge (well, hopefully not judge) where I toe the line.
1) I've always been fairly comfortable with my body. I'm 5'4", petite, normally developed and proportional. Up through high school, I never thought about my body and was generally at peace with the way I looked. I swam competitively, maintained a normal diet, and never once thought about what I should or should not be eating. I graduated high school at 110 pounds.
Then in college, I gained the stereotypical freshman 15. Erratic exercise habits, all you can eat dining halls and late night, after-party Puzzles runs (fond memories of this on-campus burger, pizza, fries, everything-terrible-for-you joint) - all of your typical elements for initial weight gain. I was by no stretch of the imagination fat, or even overweight (healthy weight for my height is 120. At the worst, I was 122), but to me the extra weight showed on my small body. This has always been a tenet for me - my small Asian frame makes any seemingly negligible amount of weight gain more noticeable.
These days, I've come back down to around 115. While I feel like I'm hyper-alert to minor changes in my body, on the whole I appreciate my form. The only part that really bothers me are my thighs. To me, they are disproportional to the rest of me. What's truly silly is that when I see pictures of my legs, they look great. But from my perspective, looking down at them, they don't. Clearly, there is something at play.
2) In my mind, I've never seriously dieted. Of course, I go through phases where I'll watch what I eat more carefully. This has only gotten more frequent as I've gotten older. But I've never put myself on a strict regimen. I hate the idea of deprivation, of not being able to eat what I want. I'm a wannabe foodie, and discovering new restaurants, dishes and cheap eats is one of the things I adore about living in a big city.
Instead, I try to make smarter choices (at least, that's what I tell myself). Eat less meat, especially red, opt for veggies, try not to overdo it on bread and rice (wheat and brown, respectively). The only liquids I drink other than water are coffee, tea, milk with cereal and the occasional alcoholic beverage. If I have a snack attack (every two hours - for whatever reason, I feel like I'm constantly hungry at work. I think a lot of it is procrastination/stress eating), I'll reach for fruit instead of chips in the kitchen. I try to be portion conscious, as I'm convinced that we need way less than we're usually served.
But I struggle with a couple things. The first is my sweet tooth. I inherited from my father, and if I had my way, I would always say yes to dessert. I love strolling new neighborhoods and popping into small bakeries and confectioneries to sample this and that.
The second is that given the right circumstances, I have little self-control when it comes to food I keep in my apartment. I've eaten a whole bag of grapes in one day, and an entire box of Blue Diamond almond crackers in one sitting. This compulsive (dare I say) binge habit (again, I suspect procrastination/stress at fault) forces me to keep only healthy food in my kitchen. You'll find no secret stash of chocolate here.
3) Case in point. Here's what I ate today. I walked to Whole Foods and invested in one of those small containers of pre-sliced berries for breakfast. For lunch, I stopped for a chopped salad with a slice of 9 grain bread on the side. I was out and about all morning, and by the time I came home, nothing sounded better than one of the oatmeal chocolate chip cookies I'd bought at the green market on Saturday on a whim. Except that one sizable cookie (about the size and thickness of my hand) became two. To make up for it (a common, and often misguided theme in Going Hungry) I had a large, fresh-pressed carrot/apple juice and about half of a cold sesame noodle appetizer for dinner. Finally, I've been munching on a large bowl of grapes as I write. (In retrospect, the dinner sounds ridiculous, and completely unbalanced. Actually a little ashamed of it.)
I realize this has been long-winded, and kudos if you've made it this far. I'm not sure what I'm trying to accomplish by disclosing all of this, other than to illustrate the point that there is a fine line between "normal" eating/body concerns and an eating disorder. You start to see common themes and beliefs that are shared between the two. This isn't a cry for help or pity - again, though I know my body and food habits aren't ideal (in a perfect world, I'd find something active that I love so I don't have to make an effort to exercise, and could eat whatever I wanted), I am nowhere near as drastic as some of the writers in the book.
Most anorexia stems from some emotional distress, neglect, abuse or aesthetic pressure during childhood, and becomes the way of exerting control over one's life. I'm thankful to report that I had none of those things. I received plenty of love from my family and friends, enjoyed enough attention from boys, and didn't hang out with those obsessed with their weight. I have no seeming reason to worry about eating habits, other than plain old vanity, or if I'm rationalizing, to be "healthy".
Not really sure how to end this, other than to say: Mom, Dad, please don't freak out. I'm happy and healthy. Promise.
1 comments:
Loved this.
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