Category Archives: Hunger

No, I am not here for your diet bullshit: a universally applicable post for trotting out whenever gendered food culture makes me cross

There is something peculiarly disheartening and frustrating about previously supportive and excellent online networks perpetuating diet bullshit. The chances are I’m not going to start a catfight about it – I’ve hidden it and moved on – but fucking hell, … Continue reading

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On thin privilege and not being a dick (again)

Nb. Uploads aren’t working, so this is illustrated solely with pictures of cute orang utans. Sorry about that.  So a kind (if potentially mischevious) friend left this peculiar monstrosity of unchecked privilege , an article entitled ‘Don’t hate me for being thin’ … Continue reading

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On fatphobia, thin privilege, ‘skinny shaming’, and people’s right to subjective experience whatever their body size

I wrote this for the F-word, but it was too long and I didn’t want to cut it because it all seemed important. I might try write a shorter version at some point, but not THIS point.  Before I start, … Continue reading

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Advice and survival: In which I don’t have all the answers but I care about the questions.

Anyway, an infinitely valuable consequence of this is that people talk to me about the bad shit. Sometimes people get other people to talk to me – my mother and my friends operate some kind of referral system – and very occasionally it all gets a bit much and I have to hide under a rock for a while.

And sometimes, people ask me for advice. Continue reading

Posted in Culture, Hunger, Love, Psychobabble, Self-harm | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

of rage, postsecret and pastries: in which an eating disorder is not a fucking getout clause.

A friend of mine posted this image to Facebook earlier, with the admirably restrained aside ‘Well, why not? Most of us underweight people love a good pastry.’ The lady in question is naturally skinny – she always has been – … Continue reading

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It’s not what but who: the problems of desire

I have NO IDEA AT ALL, none whatsoever, how to cope with my own desire. None at all. So for me, Holly’s post is a bit offbeam. I’m mostly cheerfully open about *what* I want, the things I like doing in bed, my kinks and foibles. I can discuss *that* with strangers and friends as well as with lovers, although I too am susceptible to awkwardness in the heat of the, er, moment. But desire fucks me up. How to express wanting someone, even how to deal with those feelings and/or the possibility of rejection – I’m utterly lost. Continue reading

Posted in Culture, Hunger, kink, Love, Psychobabble, Sex, Uncategorized | 10 Comments

Things they don’t tell you about recovery, ii: The awesome power of ‘I just can’t be fucked’

This is either completely the wrong time to be writing this post, or an ironically appropriate one; I can’t decide. For entirely self-inflicted reasons (I ripped the scab off a barely-healed, still crippling wound, and really, *really* should have known … Continue reading

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Things they don’t tell you about recovery: i

Recognising your true hunger’ and ‘letting the feelings happen’ are all very well, but if ‘the feelings’ and/or ‘the hunger’ are a screaming, mind-numbing, grief-stricken, uncomprehending agony you get up with every morning and sleep with every night and which frightens most people away because that much open, articulate, desperate, hopeless unhappiness is very, very difficult even for others to ‘sit with’ or recognise or comprehend, then frankly you’ll do anything to keep it at bay for just one more minute. Even if it means losing your 23″ waist and slender thighs. Even if it means losing your hard-won, struggled-for ‘recovered’ status. Even if it means losing yourself. Continue reading

Posted in Culture, Hunger, Love, Psychobabble, Self-harm, Uncategorized | 3 Comments

Rites of passage: gaining weight and losing touch

my friends are my world, and in a way, I see that shrinking, just as my desire to focus on it rather than my body increases. Some – depressed – days,I feel a bit rent-an-emotional attachment, really good for when people are between partners or otherwise unengaged, useless otherwise. Again, I know on many levels this is nonsense, and on others just a life-stage thing – most of my friends *aren’t* students any more, or even early 20s and still finding their feet – but it does make isolated cat-infested old age seem that much closer, and the cultural approval that comes with excessive thinness becomes that much more desirable, just as my desire to focus on food and fitness rather than friends and relationships becomes progressively less appealing. Continue reading

Posted in Culture, Hunger, Love, Psychobabble, Uncategorized | 7 Comments

Hunger, a Love Story.

I find it very easy to think of my ED experiences as an extended love affair with hunger; hunger and the rush that comes from mastering it. I’ve said this before: always there, even at my loneliest, ana was the … Continue reading

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