There was a time when I would rather die than live with the guilt that came after drinking the nutrition substitute that replaced the contents of that plate.
The biggest mistake I ever made was making a connection between achievement and being underweight.
Two days ago, I celebrated my 26th birthday. Not a biggie, but on such occasions I often reflect on past events, memories and chunks of time spent or misspent and I’m often faced with difficulty when I think about how much of my life so far has been tarnished by Anorexia and Bulimia.
In the Eating Disorder Unit, as we sat around in the lounge, cushions held tight over our swollen, protruding tummies, we were supervised post-meal to make sure we didn’t throw up, exercise or make a bid for freedom. The blaring TV would be immediately switched over at the slightest mention of dieting or weightloss, certain staff would rip pages from magazines and websites (even my own blog) were blocked from view.
Food is a funny thing. For the whole of human history there has been only one thing to say about it. Can I have some more please? Post-war developments in agriculture overcame many productivity limits and we entered an era of abundance, at least in the developed west. This should be a cause for celebration but instead a series of panics have ensued which have undermined people’s faith in the modern food system.
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