Step1: Let's Take It From The Top (Again)

2. Read Step 1. Discuss & reflect upon the effect food has had on you over the years. Do you really see yourself as a "compulsive overeater"?

Many overeaters can stop or moderate their food intake & their weight through a change in their caloric intake, diet &/or exercise. I can't. I am compulsive & my disease covers the ABC's:

• Anorexia
  



• Bulimia
  



• Compulsive Overeating
  

I have the same mental obsession, emotional turmoil/insanity & physical cravings an alcoholic or crack head does. I really don't like to admit this because I tend to be a bit of a snob.

~~~Rigorous honesty, baby! ~~~

As a little girl, it was always pointed out that I was "beautiful" -- hated that. My curves started to develop @ an early age. I remember hearing things like "dangerous curves ahead", "slippery when wet", "brickhouse" or "centerfold". I LOATHED HEARING THIS.

I was called "jugs", "lungs", "tits"... you name it. I was made to feel fat because I had a lot on top. The words "top heavy" were used. I was not a stick of a girl & men noticed. Which was not good; it was not what I wanted. It was excruciating. To me "big boobs" meant fat & it didn't help that I was stuffing the RAGE of the savage abuse so I started to get "chubby". It didn't FUCKING help to have the BASTARD give me a nickname -- "chubby". Boy, my other cousins were jealous because they wanted a name from the sick fuck. I was trapped in a vicious maze my uncle built around me. I was damned for being me & damned for being "chubby". Just the word alone makes me want to purge. For today, I am just not gonna give that MOTHER FUCKER ANYMORE POWER.

So, I used to think all I had was "a little" weight problem & I knew how to "fix" it -- I just starved or purged.

I mean, afterall, I wasn't like "those" people slithering around, stumbling or fiending for some junk to calm them down. Nope, not me. Yeah, okay. My ego doesn't want to associate with the bottom of the barrel drunk or the junkie crawling out of his skin for the "goods". My ego is just not going to just smile & say, "Yes, I am a gutter compulsive overeater". Hell No! I mean, I have standards & I just wasn't going to lump myself into the same category as "those' people. Ha! Denial. Ego.


Food has made my life a living nightmare. Food screamed out my name, whispered to me sweetly, seductively seduced me. It chanted, it played a siren's tune. Food brought me to my knees. I was on the edge of death. I was sickened to the core. I ate until I felt like I would burst open. I ate until I cried. Food was a constant. It was always there for me. It was a nurturing parent, a sibling, a grandparent, my best friend, my lover, my enemy, and it became my reaper. Food beckoned me. It was omnipresent, insidious & as poisonous as a rattle snake; Once it worked. It was my coping mechanism when I was abused -- sexually, emotionally, spiritually and physically. When I was afraid, lonely & sad it was there. It pulled me in & gripped me in its salivating clutches. All the while it was turning on me, Russian roulette... a double-edged sword.


What once rescued me & protected me turned on me. It wanted to take over -- it did take over for a long time. A lot of my years was wasted in the food, with the food, in the toilet. Food made me crazy. It was as much a part of me as my skin. Hell, it was my skin -- FAT! My skin stretched from the effect of stuffing it down -- stretch marks. Let me say, I was a vain girl... you know my mirror didn't see anything but my face when I was blowing up, when my weight was coming off I noticed my face wasn't "round" it was a bit heart-shaped. Surprise - surprise.


Food robbed me of a lot of years & it is about time I own up to it. Resentments a stirring.


Yes, I really do see myself as a compulsive overeater. Let me eat some Swedish fish, a slice of Sara Lee pound cake, sour cream potato chips, Doritos, candy corn... there will be no "just one". It hurts me to know that an inanimate object can bring me to my knees. I didn't want to admit this @ first (or second or third) because that would mean no more "prizes", "awards" or "celebrations" when I lost x amount of weight. Grrr... which boils down to my will. I didn't want to admit defeat. I didn't want to be powerless over a friggin' Pringle. Hell No! Seriously, this time get it together 'cause you know how to work it -- yep, I did -- "OA Buffet style". Picking & choosing what suited me to still "eat" my goods.


I know the obsession enters subtly but so POWERFULLY. I don't have "will power", I have NO power. I am POWERLESS. I just can't take my compulsion, I don't know how to kick its ass but I do know how to arrest it a day @ a time.


I am so grateful I am aware of my sensitivity to certain foods. I know I have an allergy. Once I ingest a certain substance -- whoa, baby! I am off to the races.

The phenomenon of craving kicks in. I can NEVER safely use any of my trigger/binge foods in ANY FORM @ ALL! Nope, no excuses. The minute I do take them, I'm on the road to relapse.


If I want to lose my recovery, all I have to do is pick up something & it's over. I may not have another recovery in me but I know I am a bite, purge or "skip a meal" away until I am a billboard for a funeral home.


There is no "controlled" eating for me because I have none. I am powerless & I need to keep this @ the forefront. My disease is always raring to go.