Over Eating

What exactly does that mean to me? It sounds dumb, weird even to spend time contemplating. But for some reason, it has my attention.

I was anorexic for about five years. I had gotten down to about 118 pounds when someone took my scale away. I still lost more. I remember buying some jeans. Men's. They were size 28x34. They were too big. I didn't have to undo them to take them off. Belts puckered too much and would hurt by the end of the day. I wore suspenders. One day while at work I was standing at my bench looking down at the unit I was building. With both the way the pants hung and the lighting, when I looked down I could see all the way down inside my pants to the top of my left knee. What an odd feeling. I’m 5'7". I was in my late twenties.

My first marriage I weighed at the most, 124 pounds. My husband told me I was fat. A couple of other guys, pretty much the same thing. I remember having some ice cream or candy and one of them walking behind would start singing the Jello song. "Watch it wiggle" How disheartening.

Now, several years and many pounds later, I overeat. It doesn't matter if I've just had a big meal. It doesn't matter if I know that I'm not even hungry. I eat. What a weird concept for an anorexic.

What am I really doing, and more importantly...why? Once again, I feel, I'm being just like my parents. I'm stuffing the emotions down, swallowing them up so no one can see. I'm afraid to feel. Afraid to let anyone really see? Or am I more afraid of what I might see, feel, learn about myself? So many things stuffed for so long. Can I possibly get a handle on it now? I must admit it's quite an overwhelming thought. Maybe that's what all this writing is about. A start.