Foodie, men; revised

Saturday night 5/22. Last night I identified myself to my sons girlfriend–where there has been a conflict–as having an “exotic eating disorder.”

I realized it myself; at the end of my life–I am 59 years old– I am moving into my final dieting mode.

This one is going to work! The Lord is with me.

I have beaten alcoholism; sexual addiction, smoking addiction, spending addiction; but I just didnt even see it about the food addiction. I remember laying in bed in New Jersey on leave from boarding school being disgusted wirh myself for being a slave to food. I was constantly starving myself and constantly binging. I cooked sugar in a pan, i ate sweet ice tea mix mixed with a little water, whole pans of brownies; I wont go into it all.

But, the upshot was that when I was 34 my ex wouldnt let me have a pastry that I wanted and I was taking a medication–Depakote–supposedly for mania but for me it worked for a seizure-like condition–and it caused me to feel extreme stomach pain with the slightest pang of hunger.

Next thing I knew i was living in Florida and weighing in at around 180 pounds. Twice, I lost it and then put it back in again. Then, I bumped up to a high weight of 206 pounds. I am only 5′ 2 1/2. Recently. I was weighing in the 150s but, with my mothers death last year, my weight has climbed way up again and, for the last time, it is time to take control here; moving into the rest of my life with safe and healthy eating and weight control.

I had to accept that the Lord wanted that high weight the way it was for a reason. Some of those reasons cant be mentioned; simultaneously He IS stepping in now to help. This just had to happen.

So, I realized also that the peculiar DEGREE AND KIND of obsession with food related to the clitoral and urethral injury from being kneed in the crotch by my brother as a very young little girl. I knew something was wrong but I didnt know what. I had that condition way before puberty; I moved into puberty with rhat condition not understanding the changes that I was going through.

I didnt have a single boyfriend Freshman Year; then, a young man from Guatemala who was graduating gave me a kiss at Graduation saying, “we should have done this a long time ago. I was thrilled, but I assumed that I would never see him again.

Then, I did have a boyfriend Sophomore Year fall term, but I didnt know how to talk to him. He was a very nice young man from California who appreciated that I was English. But, I myself didnt understand that about mysekf, consciously, at that time. And then, when I was waiting for Don from California to get back from an away Cross Country meet, Jorge from Guatemala, who had gone on top Colombia University in Manhattan, an Ivy League school, showed up at the dance and scooped me up.

He took me to a classroon and made out with me. I couldnt feel anything.

So, he went back to New York and I never saw him again.

My name was mud.

I didnt have another boyfriend until Senior Year. It was like I was at a convent. I never learned to interact with men

My primary concern was food. Whole cherry crumb pies and the like. The baker at the boys school, George, was famous for his chocolate chip cookies. Sunday brunch was unbelievably delicious. I usually made it to that. Even though there were boys there.

Next thing I knew I was dining at the Freshmen Union at Harvard Unuversity with the most brilliant and talented men and women students in the nation. I was in trouble with my family. I had been told that Harvard would take me. The interviewer from Yale who came to the Kent campus had the scoop on me from a fellow Senior whose father had gone to Yale. He told me she said I was smart. I dont know what else. The interviewer explained that Harvard would take a highly brilliant person or one who had done something ectraordinary despite low SATs or Grades or they like. I had written my person essay about running away from home and he probably knew this.

So, I didnt know much about Harvard and I didnt know what a course catalog was. But I had a private assurance that I belonged. At least to matriculate; the rest was up to me.

Then, after about a month and a half, I was walking from my room in Mower Hall to the dining room in Dudley House for their donuts and felt totally humiliated and desperate.

And then, I met a man from Manhattan and jumped into bed with him.

The rest is life as I know it today.

Oh,

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