Today I finished reading a book that Joanna gave me last
week, called When Food Is Love.
After spending about a month a while ago reading
Homecoming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child,
and doing the self-hypnosis exercises, and the writing a letter
to yourself with your non-dominant hand, and not finding any
great traumas or even any ungrieved pain from my childhood
lurking within me, I wasn't pleased to see this new book
start right in on its thesis that compulsive overeating is generally
hiding a fear of intimacy, a feeling that one is not worthy of being
loved, stemming from the experiences of being beaten, raped, and
abandoned as a child. (run-on sentence) I had gotten enough of that
from the first book.
While various things in the book did strike a chord with me,
like the fact that my compulsive eating occurs when I'm alone,
and possibly depressed (or even angry at someone), and that there is a
feeling that things would be better in my life if I weighed
considerably less, I'm just not seeing the underlying reasons
for these things that these books suggest.
While I acknowledge that these people have long studied these things,
and claim therapeutic success, and thus substantiation, for their
theories, and I don't want to sound arrogant by naysaying them without
any evidence to refute them, the possibility is never lost on me that
perhaps they're just quacks.
This all came about because my bad self-image based on my weight
came up during the conversation, which I hadn't brought up with her
before. She had the gall to say that I'm not fat. I don't understand
why people feel the need to say that to people who know perfectly
well that they are fat. Sure, I see people every day who
are fatter than I am, and I see people ever day less so, and people
who are not overweight at all. And some of those fat people are full
of self-love, and some of self-loathing; how overweight they are, and
how they feel about that, are not relevant to my weight and
my feelings. And I'm not deluding myself that I need to lose
three hundred pounds; I'm simply being honest with myself, on this issue
anyway; and I'm the one who sees me naked in the mirror every day.
I know I'm fat, and I wish people (funny how they're usually the nicely
slender ones) would stop insisting that I'm not.
In case you're wondering, I'm:
5 feet, 9 inches tall
It being August 8 currently in the Pacific Time Zone, I'll wish my
brother Jeff a Happy 44th Birthday, wherever he is.