Thursday, July 30, 2009
Like Mother, Like Daughter.
Tuesday it was French Bread. Today it was Magherita Pizza. (I resisted.)
WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME WOMAN!
My mother is a bad influence...in more ways than one.
My mom actually knows that I have issues with food and body image. She knows about the bulimia, just not the extent of it. Last year during a ihatemyjob emotional breakdown (could not NOT cry at work. Left. Cried. Took the next day off. Cried...it was fugly) I finally told her that I hated my job and when she pressed on (because she could tell there was something more that I was bottling up and was spilling over) I told her that I was bulimic. But I told her that I was done with it. That I hadn't done it in a month. Which at the time was pretty true (minus the breakdown days).
Oh but there's more...
She said that she has done it too! She told me that she did it a lot when she and my dad divorced (21ish years ago) and has done it sporatically throughout the years (very vague) when she eats an uncomfortable amount (like at parties; events always seem to revolve around TONS of Good Food). She had even done it a couple months prior to our talk that night.
She kind of treated it like it was some guilty secret that people just didn't talk about but wasn't entirely uncommon. Like doing anal. Or kissing a girl.
Of course she was concerned but in uncharted territories.
She suspected back before I had done it but not while I was actually going through it. She thought I was just a Health Nut (which, in retrospect turned into mild Anorexia then Bulimia). I assured her I was healthy and "in control" and she bought it, thinking that it was just a phase I went through and that I'm too strong and intelligent to let something like that get the best of me.
I actually did do pretty well for months after that. With Ipecac (I know, I know....) no longer accessible to me purging was just not so tempting. My fingers were too uncomfortable, took too long, weren't a sure shot and wasn't as "thorough". I was hooked on the stuff.
My mom was also pretty helpful too. When she'd see me linger around the food or shoveling copious amounts of food into my mouth she would ask me if I was okay which would snap me out of The Haze. I knew I was being watched and would be noticed if I disappeared. But now even that's in the past.
I blame her.
I should know better than to place blame on somebody else for my own actions but I do. I never knew she did it but the ground work was there-the diets, the bingeing, weight always being mentioned, letting "feeling fat" dictate her mood, everything revolving around food...the list goes on.
I can't help but blame her.