Tag Archives: bulimia

The American Fat Girl Gets A Name Change

Goddess Evening. I’ve decided to change the name of my blog. I think this self-love thing is starting to rub off on me. Feeling like having some good gushy sweet and juicy sweetness right now.

Sweetness in my life, in my relationships, in my foods.

And not the processed manufactured plastic coated fake smile taste of sweet.

But the authentic deep down in the crevices, between the black seeds of dragon fruit sweet.

The sweet we breathe in when embracing an old friend lover. The sweet of babies being born.

The sweet of laughing after a good scream & cry. The sweet of listening to your wombn intuition.

The sweet of men and women truly loving and supporting each other.

The sweetness of real sugar touches dripping down my belly inside & out.

Whole fresh ripe raw & organic sugar. The juicy kind of peach mango sugar that drips down your cheek and the kind subtle in it’s sweetness that still leaves the belly satiated. The sweetness of poise.

The sugar sweet kisses that makes me feel not so american fat girl anymore, but more belly beads & hip scarfs, sacred circles & bare breasted sunshine.

The sugar body scrub sweet. The fresh banana peel mask on my face, ripe papaya on my pimples and on my lips sweet.

The sugar smacks on my big honey booty.

The sugary green lights &  juicy sweet red strawberry lights up & down each sugar powdered road.

Yes! Yes! Yes! I’m feeling really sweet right now. Gimme some sugah!

– Safiar 🙂

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My 1st Pleasant Overcoming Overeating Shopping Experience

Since starting the overcoming overeating program, I cleaned out my closet of the clothes that no longer fit and that I didn’t like anymore. I went shopping for new clothes to fit my new shape, freaked out and resorted to buying 12 pairs of  XL black leggings at $6 a pop from Target, leg warmers and a bunch of sweaters and long sleeve shirts from the 2nd hand store down the street.  This has gotten me through the winter pretty smoothly, being as leggings are easy to put on- no need to squeeze my belly to zip up and button.

Well, my sister friend decided she was tired of seeing me in black leggings everyday and took me shopping for my birthday. She is a non-dieter and has read Overcoming Overeating. I was a bit terrified and excited at the same time. Terrified because shopping for clothes is usually a stressful and dramatic experience that has left me feeling awful and headed for a binge as soon as I escape the dungeon of a dressing room with its trickster mirrors. To calm down, I kept reminding myself  that my current size is a result of my genetic heritage, aging, history/relationship with food and history/relationship with dieting and history of exercise. Luckily, we kept having to reschedule our shopping date, so I had ample time to mentally prepare. Don’t pay attention to the “size”, just get what fits and looks good on me is what I kept telling myself. Oh and breathe.

Tuesday we finally went. I sat in the dressing room and she brought me different sizes to see what “size” I fit now. And then we tried on what looked good in that “size”. I basically sat in the dressing room while she brought me clothes to try which was pretty neat. I felt like a little girl shopping with mommy and a star shopping with my personal stylist all at once. I went through soooo many emotions in that dressing room. At moments on the verge of tears and then the next moment breathing and accepting and feeling good. If I had been alone, I would have ran out of the store and straight to a bakery! But it was quite a pleasant experience. She even noticed that my bra no longer fit my current shape and she fitted me for a new one. I’ve been wearing the same bra size since I was a teenager and would have never gone up to the size we did on my own. I didn’t realize I needed too. But now I’m seeing with new eyes. Although I’ve been doing mirror work and I thought my breasts were bigger- it didn’t compute. And I didn’t realize that the side area counted as breast. I’m finally out of a B cup! lol

She also “tricked” me by taking us to eat before we went shopping. When we were in the fitting room and I said that I shouldn’t have eaten first and she said that it’s best to eat (if you’re hungry of course) because you get a more
accurate read on how you will feel in the clothes in everyday life. So when you do eat, there is comfortable room in your clothes for a satisfied belly. After the shopping I was having a little anxiety and felt an urge to eat, but since I was still full from our midday eating experience, I didn’t eat again until much later.

It was a pleasant experience and I feel I can do it on my own (without freaking out)  next time. Having assistance made it fun and much less stressful. Oh yeah, and I cut the size tag out of the clothes when I got home. 🙂


The Diet Game

The more I tell a young man to pull up his pants, the further he will sag them. The more I tell my girlfriend that her boyfriend is no good, the tighter she will cling to him. When I tell a child to stop doing that, she can’t wait to do it again.  The more I tell women & girls what size to be, what color to be, how tall to grow, how much to weigh, how to style her hair, what clothes to wear this year, what foods to eat today and how to shape her butt-boobs-belly, something really amazing happens. She tries & often succeeds in varying degrees to do just that! She cuts, squeezes, burns, fasts, restricts, constricts, dyes, twists, suffocates, stuffs, lifts, tightens, contorts, bends, blends, stretches, sucks, tames her body to fit into the acceptable female body box.  It’s absolutely fascinating to watch her to do this. And even better, we get filthy rich day after day from her efforts.

We train one and she teaches her daughters, cousins, sisters, best friends and everyone she encounters to do it too. She becomes a champion campaigner for our cause. Even women that fail miserably try and try again. Regardless of her body screams of rebellion, she continues to beat it into the box. Regardless of her own personal tastes, she will eat what ever we say as long as the reward is the acceptable female body box. She will even go against her own body need for food to fit. She will attempt to curb her appetite with any product we sell her. She will not eat, as if eating is an abnormal act. And she will spend decades & thousands of dollars on or off what we call a diet. Did she never realize that the first three letters in the word diet are d-i-e? HaHaHa. LOL. What silly women! Her own body even knows it. Why does she think The Diet fails and she gains the weight back, has to exercise like an athlete to keep it off, is always “falling off the diet”, it gets harder and harder to lose the weight each time (thanks to her smart body’s survival switch), and is constantly seeking a new diet? I’m scared to wonder what will happen when women stop hating their bodies and stop listening to us. I’m quite sure we will be out of a job. But for now, we are safe. The New Year is approaching and millions will sign up for the game of Change Your Shape, Change Your Life once again. Chi  Ching $$$$


Is Fat A Feminist Issue?

So I get to the last paragraph of an awesome book. The first line is so hot and pointed, I have to share this! With who? My mother being the critical thinker she is, would get this. She needs to read this line. So I text her- “Compulsive eating is an individual protest against the inequality of the sexes.” Wow! She texts me back- ” I don’t believe it. Compulsive eating is a compulsion. That’s a brain issue that needs to be solved. I do not believe that we eat compulsively because we are mad at men. If that was true, happy women would not be compulsive.”

Whoa doggy. That didn’t go well. Definitely not the response I expected. I’m so glad I didn’t send her anything from the introduction of the book. Like that “Fat also expresses the tension in the mother-daughter relationship, the relationship which has been allocated the feminization of the female. This relationship is bound to be difficult in a patriarchal society because it demands that the already oppressed mothers become the teachers, preparers and enforcers of the oppression that society will visit on their daughters.” I can hear her response now. “You’re blaming me because you’re fat and eat too much?”

My dream of her saying, “Wow! Tell me more!”, quickly diminished. My hope of the sentence spear penetrating her very core and switching on the light, freeing the both of us, was met with the very emotional blocks the book speaks of. My excitement got away from me. I have a quirk. Whatever I learn, I want to share with everyone I think it will help. One of the guidelines of my new diet free lifestyle, is to leave other people and their shyt alone. Discuss Diet-Free-Way-To-Be with only people who are 100% supportive and understanding of what I’m doing. Do not push it on anybody else. And cease from having “I’m fat, I need to work out, I’m going on a diet, I need to lose weight, I’ve gained weight, This is why I’m fat” conversations with anyone. Especially women. Especially men. Oops.

I text her back that I didn’t think that that is what she, being the author, is saying. I just found it interesting and I thought you would too. My bad. I refrained from texting her the book word by word. I refrained from calling and attempting to explain my nu found religion. I just let it go. She responded that she didn’t have any context and how am I doing? When am I coming to visit?

She’s right. I didn’t give her any context. I have read three books so far that have put me on a nu path. The Tao of Fuck You! I’m Amazing and I Ain’t Going On A Diet Ever Again! The funny thing is that her initial response made perfect sense and gave me a prime example of the societal programming many of us are under. A woman. A Yankee. A college graduate. A mother. An academic. A wife. Slaving over a hot stove. Preparing homemade biscuits from scratch for her southern husband and her two, three, four, no five children. A woman who would rather be in a library than making fried chicken and banana pudding. From scratch. Preparing meals, frequent trips to the grocery store. Milk eggs cheese bread. Six people need to eat and you want to be as far away from the kitchen, laundry, cleaning, housekeeping as possible, but can’t be. Somebody wants sweet tea, white rice, fried fish, spaghetti, sandwiches and Kool-Aid. You love it. You hate it. No freedom. A 24/7 nurturer and caretaker. Maid. No alcohol. No cigarettes. No anti-depressants. Only a sweet treat here and there. Everywhere. Run, Run, Run to your bedroom. You know the second someone has turned on the stove. You scream, “Turn off the stove, it’s HOTT!!!” A walking thermastat. Tethered to a buttered roll that feeds you and your family. Secretly resenting the damn roll. And maybe even the Role.

In 1978, I am born and the book Fat is a Feminist Issue by Susie Orbach is published with my hot and pointed sentence included in last paragraph, first sentence. “Compulsive eating is an individual protest against the inequality of the sexes.” Compulsive  eating is not about a brain problem that needs to be solved. I ain’t broke and I don’t need fixing! Susie Orbach writes that ” Fat is not about food. Fat is about protection, sex, mothering, strength, assertion and love. Fat is a response to the way you are seen by your husband, mother, boss and yourself.” Although, I love this book, I’m glad I didn’t read it first. I read Overcoming Overeating by Jane Hirschmann and Carol H. Munter first. This book gets you off the diet binge cycle immediately. It stopped me from dreading this holiday season, giving into the seasonal depression that is trying to pull me in, devising a plan to lose 80 pounds by my birthday December 23 and once that failed, making a new plan to lose it by February 1st, then March 1st, then April 1st and definitely by the spring. Laughing out loud. 🙂 Dieting is out. Living is in~

My current bibles: Overcoming Overeating by Jane Hirschmann and Carol H. Munter

When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies by Jane Hirschmann and Carol H. Munter

Fat is a Feminist Issue by Susie Orbach


Happy Give Me, Thank You

Written 11.25.10

Thanks Giving. I am not going anywhere to eat or to pick up a plate. Not making any rounds. Feast or famine. The whole process drives me nutz. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat until you and I burst! I am afraid of food. I am quite afraid of my Aunt Toni’s macaroni & cheese, sock-it-to-me cake, dressing and sweet potatoes. I am afraid of my Aunt Rita’s “surprise” desserts and pretty much everything she and my grandmother, “Mother”, do in the kitchen. I am afraid of the food my own mother prepares especially as one who would rather be reading a book than standing over a hot stove. A reluctant southern belle.

Living through the holidays as a compulsive eater-weight obsessed-bulemic-health food junkie is murderous torture. Or maybe suicidal torture. Yes the food literally stalks me from every corner before stabbing me over and over again with blade sharp jabs of fat, sugar and salt until I conk out. Dead from bloat and an overworked digestion system.

So today, I’m chilling. I have come to spend many holidays alone. My food issues are not the only reason I don’t participate in the holidays. Just about 60% of the reason. “Well, don’t eat. Just go hang with family”, she says. “Yeah right!”, I say. I’m not quite ready for that yet. I have food in my kitchen and a four movie dvd I picked up from Wal-Mart last night. I have E & J VSOP, half of a lemon crunch cake, fruit, veggies and two bags of Checkers restaurant frozen fries.  I have enough gas in the car to go on a scavenger hunt for food if necessary. I’d just rather avoid the temptation, the downfall and the painful punishment of eating too much in honor of the pilgrims. I’d rather eat exactly what I want. When I want. How much I want. And stop at the exact moment I’ve had enough. I’m giving thanks that this thanksgiving I am not breaking a diet today or starting one tomorrow. 🙂


Scales are for fish, not women

It is November 23, 2010. One month until my birthday. After thousands of minutes spent obsessing over my supposed fat, imagined problematic body and evil food that chases me down the street, I have finally given up the fight. Given up dieting. Thrown out the scale. Filled my freezer with all the goodies I like. Released my belly from the grip of sucking her in. Rubbing the buddha belly. I can finally look in the mirror and refrain from saying “Yuck”. I can get through the day without saying “I feel fat”. I recently learned that fat is not a feeling. Fat has been one of the only feelings I felt daily for so many years. Now I feel other things. Now I can relax. I don’t have to be her. Whoever I’ve been trying to be since I was a little girl. I can just be me. Diet free. Eating whatever the eff I want. Exercising when I feel like it. Sitting on my butt when I don’t. Bypassing the diet magazines, fasting teas & anything else promoting weight loss or diets. Learning to love the body I am in just the way it is.