Boo

My ghost, Mr. G, wakes me up because he wants to help me. He is a Ghost Whisperer in reverse. I told him it would be a great help if I could sleep through the night undisturbed and he told me to quit whining.

He intends to help me with my weight problem, of all things. It is his plan to be my Invisible Friend, my Guardian Angel and the Keeper of My Kitchen. I can use all of the help I can get, regardless of how wacky it may seem.

The first thing he said I must do is “Man UP.” I posted the following two entries last December and promptly took them down before anyone but one person saw them. (You were very nice about it, too.)

Posted on December 12, 2005

I’ve been putting it off for a while now and I’m not sure I have the courage to do it, but what the hell. Today, I feel like jumping in. My original idea for this space was to talk about a problem I have not been able to solve.

Long pause before I begin typing again.

See, here’s the thing: I am fat, really fat. What is definitely defined as obese. I am 5’6” and I weigh 350 pounds. That’s like two linebackers. That’s three normal size people. That’s really big.

Why am I fat? Well, obviously, it’s because I eat too much. Simple, right? Just stop eating too much. Problem solved. It should be that simple.

I’m smart. I have above average intelligence. I’ve done all of the research. I know about vitamins and minerals, drink 8 glasses of water a day, exercise regularly, portion control, calories in, calories out. Simple.

I’m strong. I’ve survived this far, better than a lot of other people I know. I’ve made it through many situations that others have been crushed by and yet I keep going.

I’m blessed. I have both of my parents. I am married to a man who loves me. I have a healthy, happy daughter who made it to 19, without drugs, alcohol and pregnancy. I have a house, car, cell phone, laptop, yadda, yadda, yadda. I have my health, nothing really wrong with me that others my age don’t have worse.

So, I need to figure out why I continue to anesthetize myself with food. And that is what I am doing. I eat so much that I have no feelings at all. Happy, sad, mad, glad, they’re all the same to me. I try to get rid of them all.

OK, enough for now, before I explode out of my skin.

Posted on December 13, 2005
"Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for truth." – Benjamin Disraeli
I think showing feelings or not are at the root of most addictions. I know for me growing up we were not to show excessive feelings. (Here’s my PC disclaimer: I’m sure my situation wasn’t much different than most peoples’. I’m just trying to figure out why the problem manifested the way it did in me and how to break the cycle. I know everyone did his or her best. I am not blaming anyone. I’m already apologizing for how I feel and I haven’t even said anything yet.}

My father was distant both physically and emotionally. He worked two and three jobs most of the time. We were close, once. I was his favorite as a small child. You can see it in the home movies and pictures and everyone said so. I remember at some point that he moved away from me. At a young age, I was jealous when he played with other children and he told me not to hang on him. While I was still small, I feel I disappointed him in some way and I disappointed him ever since. The situation that sums up my relationship with my father is illustrated by this story: The family was sitting around the table one Thanksgiving, when my brother was married to his first wife. She had done something to amuse my father and he said, “You always were my number one daughter.” No one else missed a beat. But I died a little.

Today’s edition, just to keep the parental blame even.

My mother gifted me with the pursuit of unattainable perfection. Regardless of the situation or accomplishment, the “but” reared its ugly head. As in, “Wow, you graduated in the top thirteen out of a thousand students, but even now you can’t keep you hair out of your face.” Her only physical sign of affection was the wooden spoon that made contact with my thigh when I annoyed her (which I really perfected.)

Me, Myself and I were a trio from early on, since we moved about every year and a half. I spent a lot of time with adults, quietly watching and listening, many times to things I should not have been privy to. I learned things the hard way. So around the age of ten, I began to insulate.

I’m going to go now, since I feel slightly disassociative and Mr. G says I should sooth myself with song. I don’t know what I’m saying. Bye.


J.K. Rowling at her website www.jkrowling.com in the Extra Stuff section (hair brush) under Miscellaneous and then, For Girls Only, Probably… wrote a rant on our obsession with women’s appearance, thinness. As a woman who has always felt the pressure of looking for the perfect weight and as a mother of a daughter, I whole-heartedly agree with her. I applaud the use of her celebrity and influence over young people to address this issue and give her opinion.