Nude by Christmas

38 years old, 102kg. One of those numbers is about to change.

Archive for the tag “eating disorders”

Eating Disorderly Conduct

There’s not much funny about eating disorders.  I’ve known bulimics (men and women) and at least one anorexic.  I’ve suspected a few more.  A lot more.  Once I even wished I had one – bulimia – but I just wasn’t brought up that way.  Oops.

The bulimics I knew at university all hung out together – between the cafeteria and the toilets.  They seemed to be otherwise quite normal people (well, they were otherwise normal – whatever that is), though most of them smoked and spent a fortune on breath mints.  The anorexic hung out in hospital, mainly, or at home when things were better for her.    I can remember shaking my head, trying to understand what was going through theirs, then just accepted that I couldn’t.  The life moved on, I went to work in the corporate world, and people got much better at hiding their disorders.

Then I entered this strange online universe, where people are either disturbingly honest, deceptively devious, or devastatingly disturbed.  I suspect many are all three.  And I accept that the real world is just the same.  But somehow, when it’s in print, it haunts.

There are some people I have followed on Instagram or Tumblr, because I’ve liked the look of their pics.  Ok, I’ve liked the look of the pics of their bums.  They are all impossibly thin.  Some of them have been born with them, some of them have worked for them, some of them have done both.  But some of them have spent their nights on hands and knees, fingers at the back of their throats, purging themselves of whatever they stuffed down there only minutes earlier.  When I work out that the slender bottom, in the seductive pose, with the fingers suggestively draped beneath the elastic of some skimpy black lace, belong to someone with an obvious eating disorder, I ‘dislike’  or ‘unfriend’.  I just can’t perve at purgers.

Same goes when a cry for help pops up on my screen.  A hand-scrawled note craving for someone to ‘like’ them, or they’ll slit their wrists; ‘comment’ or I’ll cry; ‘friend me’ or I’ll flip out.  It’s tragic.  I don’t know you!  I don’t ‘like’ you – I like your pic.  I comment on your pic, not you.  I’m not your ‘friend’, I’m just browsing…  If you need me, or people like me, you’re in trouble.  Big trouble.  And you should probably get off online and get on with things offline.

But don’t listen to me.  Get help.  Real help.  From a real person.

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The girls and boys on Instagram, and a bit about treadmills

Right now, I’m on a treadmill. Walking, blogging and Instagramming. So damned 2012 it’s not funny. I’ve already done a cardio session this morning, just following up with some weights tonight. It’s 10pm in the part of the world I inhabit.

If you haven’t spotted me on Instagram, it’s not hard @nudebychristmas is the name, photos of me, exercise and food is the game. I’m also dropping down some thoughts there too.

If you follow me and check out my likes, you’ll notice I like girls butts, mens torsos and the legs of both. No, I’m not bi, I’m just an admirer of quality. If you work hard, and look good, I’m gonna tick like. No hidden agenda. Sure, it might mean I think you’re attractive, but hell, isn’t that the whole point? Your butt is hot. Like!

I staggers me a little how many kids there are on Instagram with such low self-esteem. Look, I’m no Anthony Robbins (the guy’s over the top in my opinion), but seriously people, get a grip. Today some girl posted a threat to shutdown her account if more people didn’t like her, or make more comments. Sheesh – just shut her down already. If you’re on Instagram to make friends, it’s time you joined the real world. And made real friends.

There are 15 year old girls desperate to lose pounds to squeeze into a bikini, 16 year old boys obsessed with their abs, some that admit to self harming, many that admit to just being miserable.

How do we get it through to these kids that the hottest body is a healthy body, and nothing – nothing! – is sexier than confidence.

I wasn’t going to put my face on Instagram. This was both a privacy and self-esteem thing, but then I thought fuck it. I’m me. Fat, but thinning. Middle aged, but not middling. Weak, but getting stronger. If these messed up kids can see that it’s okay to make it to 38, have all of these so-called ‘faults’, and still be prepared to put yourself out there, there may be some hope for them yet.

And for me.

I gotta go sweat some more.

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