When I began blogging, I always considered being a disordered eater a separate entity from having an eating disorder.
After all, every woman seems to be a “disordered eater” in one way or another.
And since I never truly binged; never binged and purged (I cry when I throw up; last time was alcohol-induced, at a Dave Matthews Band concert back in 1999); and never starved myself, I was “in the clear,” so to speak … at least in my own little head.
I didn’t classify myself with the girls who threw up their lunches or worked out for four hours a day and lived on lettuce leaves.
I had a complex, thinking, “Well, I’d do anything but that …” as though that made me less culpable or something.
In my head, I wasn’t one of “them”. I just exercised a lot and watched every morsel that went into my mouth.
But I mean, really, who was I kidding? I still had a big, undeniable problem. What might sound admirable (being a militant exerciser and keeping a meticulous food journal) was hurting me –and those I love and who love me — in more ways than one. Continue reading “Blurring the Lines: Eating Disorders and Disordered Eating”