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Who is profiting?

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Catrina:

I wasn't supposed to be born, and no one expected me when I arrived. My parents were perfectly happy to roam the countryside in their VW van, shooting up, being hippies (almost a generation too late for my mom), and flying under the radar of convention. But then I came along, born into confusion, anger and spite.

As early as I can remember, I was blamed because we were broke - another mouth to feed, so eating became about having cash, not about hunger. If we had a couple dollars to scrape together, we'd grab a bite - if not, we didn't (of course if they spent less money on heroin, we'd all be better off). It seems that we never ate. And it always seemed that it was an outing, an adventure to go and eat - never about the hunger. Never. Mom treated it like a hardship. Why do we have to do this? We don't *need* a burger!

We wandered the country, keeping me out of school (the brain-washing institution of "the Man") until we came to LA. I was 7 at this time and it was 1984.

They met an older couple (divorced but friendly) and had me start referring to them as my grandparents (which they weren't). One day they asked them to watch me for a bit.

They never came back.

People always talked to me about anorexia. Scaring me. Terrifying me. I'd have nightmares and frightening visions of emaciation, the power of food, the evil of it. It wasn't until I was 16 and 68 pounds that I realized why the hell people were scaring me all the time.

I *was* anorexic.

My "grandparents" had a daughter who I started referring to as my mom. My "mom" was a recovering heroin addict as well. Obviously she was very skinny during the time of her addiction, but going on the methadone, she gained a lot of weight. She became what I now recognize as anorexic and lost all her weight early on in my relationship with her, but I didn't know what that was at the time, so for me being raised in that kind of environment was normal: pictures and notes on the fridge, the fear of food, guilt and hiding of eating, never ask for food, never eat in front of people, because you're disgusting and it's gross to see fat people eat (to herself, but I was there for these affirmations), and the candy binges. Oh, the candy binges. She'd buy herself like 7 candy bars, and buy me 4 at the same time - under the guise of "getting it out of my system" - I think she was looking for someone to do it with so that she didn't feel isolated. The pull out bed that we slept on was absolutely crammed underneath with 100's of candy wrappers - hers. Everyone was quick to point out that if there was a wrapper in the trash - a big deal - it was mine - I was blamed for eating candy - don't you know that stuff is horrible for you??? But she's so thin so it's okay.

My grandparents finally realized what was going on - I'd only gained nominal weight since I'd arrived to stay with them 9 years before. I'd had the realization that I was ana, had gotten over my fear of it, and was ready to embrace it when the force feedings began. My grandmother was a child psychologist - I couldn't see a real counselor because it may reflect bad on her. She was also a former home ec teacher, so part of the food ritual became having me make the food as well. It felt like an abnormal amount of food being forced on me, but I'm sure it was about average. Of course being in a starvation mode, my body turned it all to fat.

In my 16th year I went from 68 pounds to 205.

Kept out of school at my parents "request" (they figured that's what they would have wanted) I had no clue about the greater world. Just that at one point I looked like the pretty girls on TV - no, in my mind better - and now I was what people made jokes about. They put me into dance classes to get me to know people my age, but the girls would whisper behind my back, and dare each other to touch me. I began hating myself. I attempted suicide several times. I lost all will to breathe. But my grandparents couldn't see how fat I was. All they knew is that if they stopped feeding me, I would get "too thin" again, so they were blind to the fact that they took me from one danger zone to the other.

I worked out obsessively at home. Didn't lose much weight, but turned it to muscle, so that I was smaller - just more dense.

The anorexia took my "mothers" life. The obesity simply would not take mine.

5 years later - when I finally moved out of their house, I went back to ana. I lost 60 pounds in 2 months. Hardcore restricting, blistering heat and CONSTANT working out (I wasn't working at the time, staying with a friend). I met my b/f (current) and it was all shot to hell. He made a bigger deal of my looks than I ever could have. He made me get on the pill, and of course over the next 11 months I gained 80 pounds. My highest ever - 226. A certified cow.

His being hypoglycemic meant that he had to eat - constantly. And since I'm the woman, I had to make his meals. The old routine came back. I found it hard to cook and not eat, but somehow I maintained my enormous weight without gaining any more (I went the hell OFF the pill!). I was earning a good wage at this point, and had extra money. Having money = eating whether you're hungry or not (or so I was bred with). When the cash ran out, I began stealing food. After all, if you didn't pay for it, it didn't hurt you, right? I couldn't disassociate the money from the food. Didn't realize the hit I'd take wasn't in my wallet, but on my ass.

I decided to get back with what had come to me so naturally all those years - ana. I went on the web to find the medical sites, see what the warning signs of anorexia were, and do just that. Then I found the most amazing thing - the PRO-anorexia website (*sound of angels singing*). I discovered that a lot of my thinking was still VERY on the nose. As far as weight went, I went down, I went up, down and up again. I couldn't get back into the rhythm as well as I had before. Couldn't do it on my own.

Recently I decided that I would make a site as well [ here ]. Making the site has been my lifeline, triggered me to death, and kept me the hell out of the kitchen. Since September I have lost 45 - not my greatest glory, but it is 35 degrees here, bodies want to retain "insulation" in this weather!

That's my pathetic story. I'm not going to post my stats here, or anywhere until I get back to something non-triple-digit. My goal is 85, but I'd like to get down to 68 again, just to see if I can do it.

http://www.bluedragonfly.org/welcome.html