Posts from — March 2009

Whenever my dad starts to criticize my body, he cloaks the criticism in the beauty of our native language. That way, it not only sounds more pleasant, but my monolingual husband can’t defend me. This is what happened when I broke the news to my meat-eating father that I was going vegetarian. The rough translation is as follows:

“You are not normal. You are half the size you used to be. Your curves are all gone. You’re wasting away. You look old and ugly.”

Mind you, this was day 3 of my vegetarianism. Then he tried to force-feed me a piece of barbecued kebob.

Yesterday morning at the gym, I ran into a guy who used to work out when I do, but for a couple of months had been exercising in the evenings due to a work-schedule change. He said, “I can tell you’ve been working hard since I’ve been gone–looking really ripped. Keep it up!” In those few words approximately 6-8 months of therapy vanished like smoke in the wind. Not only was it proof that people really do pay close attention to my body, but it was evidence that I will be accepted and loved if I continue to over-exercise.

– contributed by Crazy D., our equally f***ed up friend and greatest supporter.

Those of you who are on the search for a “happy anorexic” will not find one here. Or anywhere for that matter. They’re about as common as unicorns, and I’m pretty sure unicorns don’t exist. Anorexics don’t have time to be happy. We’re too busy obsessing about calories, food, weight and whether our bones are sharp enough to be used as deadly weapons.

Anorexic camouflage. See the light post just right of center? I’m actually standing behind it.

South Africa is being ravaged by AIDS and children are being orphaned in droves. Meanwhile I’m watching reruns of Keeping Up with the Kardashians on E! It’s a survival strategy of sorts, given that it distracts me from thinking about the real tragedies in life. Instead of shedding tears about things that really matter, I find myself crying like an asshole when Khloe Kardashian triumphs over her body-image issues by posing naked for PETA.

Skinny Lady has showered me with gifts since the beginning of our relationship, but the two most standout items include a pig salt and pepper shaker set and a glass, faceless pig statue that I keep in my cubicle. She could either be encouraging my anorexia at the office or reminding me not to stuff myself whilst eating dinner. OR she could just be reminded of me every time she sees a pig in a store.

Remember when Kate Moss entered the scene and was immediately referred to as “the waif”? I was looking at pictures of her today and realized that bitch is more curvy than most of the current supermodels. I eagerly anticipate the future of modeling.

It’s official - I’m a sorry excuse for an anorexic and I blame it all on Zoloft, or rather my lack of it. I have recently had to wean myself from my favorite of all SSRIs and the consequence has been the loss of visible hip bones. I guess it’s the Zoloft that makes me anorexic because without it, I just stop giving a fuck.

Take just now, for instance. I was on my way home from the store and decided to stop at Wendy’s for a Biggie order of fries, and before I had even finished them, I made my way over to the McDonald’s and ordered a large fry from there too. This is what happens when I’m not operating under the influence and it sucks. If anyone out there knows where my broke ass can get a cheap hook up, please write Skinny Lady at skinnylady@randomanorexics.com. I’m also accepting donations.