I spent the weekend with my mom. I missed her. She missed me. We had a good weekend, we hiked, made dinner together, window shopped, drank wine, talked and looked up at the stars. But there is just one thing…my eating disorder and her disordered eating.
I can’t say too much in the way of my mom having an actual eating disorder. She has definitely yoyo dieted all of my life. She admitted to being bulimic for a period of time and still may occasionally puke. It was years ago when she admitted this to me. I was a mess and finally admitted that I am bulimic (I’ve lied about it since) and she told me that on fathers day she ate too much and then puked. But there was a time that she was puking her food rather regularly. The duration and actual period of that time is still a mystery to me (TO THE MYSTERY MACHINE!-Shit! I need a mystery machine and a Scooby Doo.)
This weekend was a weird teetering of the balancing scales. Over the years the only consistency in my eating habits [in front of people] are they are inconsistent. I wouldn’t eat fat, a vegetarian, flirted with going vegan, various fad diets, back on the meat, no carbs, no sugar… and then the times where I’d fall off the wagon and binge on all the things that I would stick my nose up at. My mom always caters to me (probably because she knows how moody I will get if I can’t eat what I’m comfortable with). She waited until I can go with her to grocery shop for the rest of our dinner and snacks. We got everything I wanted and she added nothing to the cart for herself aside from beer.
We went wine tasting with hardly anything in our tummies. I had a protein shake and sunflower seeds, she had a hot dog with mustard. Outside the wine tasting place where cupcakes (something about Cupcake War people making them? Whatever.) and she looked at me, “should we get some?” The ball was in my court, she wanted to make me make the decision for her and, consequently, a decision for myself. I said no “I’m not really big on cupcakes, I’m more of a wine girl.” I said holding up the bottle and smiling at the
Crack Cupcake Dealers. (Note: Totally truthful and the dude [Cupcake Dealer #2] was totes on my Wine Bandwagon) I could tell my mom was slightly disappointed and slightly glad.
Immediately following was lunch where she just wanted something small like an appetizer because she didn’t want to ruin dinner. It was 1, mind you, not 3 or 4. We drank ciders waiting for our [hour and a half] mediocre cobb salads. I gobbled mine up, she 2/3. I felt embarrassed at the comparison. For dinner we had wine (we’re winos DON’T JUDGE!) roasted red pepper soup with a little cheese melted in it (hats off to Trader Joes and their samples) followed by ribeye steak, salad and grilled vegetables. I made up salads on our plates she said she couldn’t eat all of that salad and put half back. Admittedly, I served HUGE salads because I forgot to account for the grilled veggies and I ended up just having the steak and salad. I finished my plate. “See look, I couldn’t even finish all that.” Again, I felt like a fatass.
In the morning we had leftovers because my mom wanted the famous pie at the bakery that had a line going down the block. I agreed to pie, reluctantly but I knew she really wanted it. The pie was delicious and I tried not to feel guilty and tell myself that it was a normal thing to do and that I had eaten well all the rest of the trip. I hoped that I could just not eat/eat very little the rest of the day. That’s not how it turned out.
By the time we got back to my apartment she was hungry and wanted pizza or burgers. She made a face at my suggestion of salad. She said that if she went home now she’d probably get mexican food and pig out. I agreed to pizza, again, to please even though I wished she wanted salad instead. Ordering pizza I got a salad bar and let her choose whatever pizza. She pushed for an appetizer, I told her to get whatever she wanted. I had 3 slices of medium pizza, salad and one jalepeno popper (trying to pretend to be a normal person). She had 4 poppers and 5 slices of pizza.
I hated that I ate so much food all weekend [and digested it]. I told myself that I was being normal and pleasing my mom and promising myself that I would diet hardcore from Monday on out.
In 5 weeks we are going to be in Florida fishing and swimming in humid weather and I’d rather feel like a fat seal than blubbery walrus. I had quite a bit of weight on me, my clothes are tight and I’m generally uncomfortable with my body. I wish that I could say that it doesn’t affect my attitude, sociability and willingness to do things but it affects all of those things. And I don’t want to embarrass my mom and her boyfriend (17 years-he’s practically my stepdad) with my fat, unsociable self.
My mom will eat small and/or “light” portions and try and stay away from carbs. She’ll go hours without eating and then make a face at salad and persist/insist we get an appetizer that’s fatty and fried. Restrict and binge, restrict and binge… we are both erratic with food and it’s not easy to be around her and not give in. If I would have said no apple pie she would have pouted and later it would be “S. wouldn’t let me get pie.” She thinks it’s cute making me the parent her the child. I hate it. I don’t want to be the parent. Why can’t she just do what she wants? Eat something or not without making me the bad guy or make me feel guilty and inhuman for not participating. I don’t like feeling either. No matter what choice I make I end up feeling shitty about it.
I hate that I have an ED.