Hi everyone, a few days ago we touched on femininity. The following passage takes place when I was about 13, after my brother had sexually abused me. I had turned to “emotional eating” long before Dr. Phil and Oprah and others started using the phrase. There was a time when I would have been ashamed of these eating patterns, but now I want to share because some of you might recognize the correlation between emotions and eating, or not eating (I went through compulsive over eating, and then anorexia.) ***I repressed feelings or was it that they were stuffed deep down inside? I substituted the need for emotional nourishment with food and went on a feeding frenzy. While watching TV, I ate ice cream. While doing homework, I ate cookies. While standing in the kitchen, I ate chocolate chip ice cream with chocolate chip cookies. Before school, I ate the single serving boxed breakfast cereals two or three at time, with extra sugar. After school, I ate frozen chocolate éclairs, frozen. I squirted whipped cream directly into my mouth, letting the sweet cream tease my tongue with solace. But I was never fully satisfied. After inhaling the whole enchilada, my finger would slide down my throat, forcing vomit until I was fully disgusted.
I watched the needle on the scale stall at higher numbers: 120, 130, 140. It was an out-of-body experience to see 156 pounds. Dragging myself around like the carcass of a dead cow, I wallowed in self-pity and waddled to the bus stop. I hid my obsession with food by buying snacks at school and hiding Twinkies in my pockets. I hid my body by wearing brown baggy pants with a loose flannel shirt.
“You look like a dyke,” my stepfather said. “Don’t you have something more feminine? Didn’t your mother take you shopping for school clothes? She knows how to dress like a lady.”
I didn’t know what looking like a dyke meant, but his remark was obviously derogatory. So I decided to hide my body in a raincoat, wearing it like body armor indoors and out.***