- Today’s weight: 267.5
- Level of activity: Light, but getting better
- Level of social interaction: Moderate
- Level of fear concerning social interaction: Moderate
- Level of risk-taking (safe risks, that is): Moderate
Things have been pretty good over the past few weeks, and I’ve been a lot more active both physically and socially: I’ve gone to a game night with friends, had lunch with new work friends, gone on a bird watching outing with a group, browsed the farmer’s market, and have generally just been chattier and friendlier with everyone. I’ve also been walking the dogs (as opposed to just letting them out) on a pretty regular basis, and while the walks aren’t long (only 15 minutes or so), the fact that I’m actually doing it without undue bitching and moaning is pretty impressive. Baby steps.
I also had a nice, short visit with my eating disorder, and reminded myself once again why intuitive eating is the ONLY path I can take. I say this because I tried a “structured” eating program (i.e. diet) for about a week and then binged for two days afterward. Thankfully counseling has given me the tools to stop a binge, and I didn’t do any real damage, so all’s well. I guess I need to remind myself often that my psyche doesn’t like any kind of restrictions when it comes to food, or it will take an “I’ll show me!” approach and go completely batshit.
I’m incredibly grateful that food is now, for the most part, just food. Food used to be love, entertainment, a band-aid . . . it was literally the ONLY coping mechanism I had for any kind of emotion, and I couldn’t eat enough to fill the black hole inside me. Now, even though I’m SO much better than I used to be, I still have to talk to myself frequently when I go to the refrigerator: Am I really hungry, or am I bored/tired/lonely/frustrated/depressed/et al? Will the food really help? Will it do anything other than fill my stomach? When I feel that black hole starting to open up, I quickly find something else to do: Throw laundry in the washer, change water in the fish tank, paint my nails, take the dogs out, take a nap . . . anything to take the focus off eating and remind me, once again, that FOOD WILL NOT HELP.
My black hole is somehow inexplicably captured in Shel Silverstein’s “Hungry Mungry.” I don’t know what kind of demons Shel wrestled with, but if there’s ever been a piece of writing that more perfectly captures binge eating disorder (or probably addiction of any kind), I have yet to read it.
Hungry Mungry
Hungry Mungry sat at supper,
Took his knife and spoon and fork,
Ate a bowl of mushroom soup, ate a slice of roasted pork,
Ate a dozen stewed tomatoes, twenty-seven deviled eggs,
Fifteen shrimps, nine bakes potatoes,
Thirty-two fried chicken legs,
A shank of lamb, a boiled ham,
Two bowls of grits, some black-eye peas,
Four chocolate shakes, eight angel cakes,
Nine custard pies with Muenster cheese,
Ten pots of tea, and after he,
Had eaten all that he was able,
He poured some broth on the tablecloth
And ate the kitchen table.
His parents said, “Oh Hungry Mungry, stop these silly jokes.”
Mungry opened up his mouth, and “Gulp,” he ate his folks.
And then he went and ate his house, all the bricks and wood,
And then he ate up all the people in the neighborhood.
Up came twenty angry policeman shouting, “Stop and cease.”
Mungry opened his mouth and “Gulp,” he ate the police.
Soldiers came with tanks and guns.
Said Mungry, “They can’t harm me.”
He just smiled and licked his lips and ate the U.S. Army.
The President sent all his bombers–Mungry still was calm,
Put his head back, gulped the planes, and gobbled up the bomb.
He ate his town and ate the city–ate and ate and–
And then he said, “I think I’ll eat the whole United States.”
And so he ate Chicago first and munched the Water Tower,
And then he chewed on Pittsburgh but he found it rather sour.
He ate New York and Tennessee, and all of Boston town,
Then drank the Mississippi River just to wash it down.
And when he’d eaten every state, each puppy, boy and girl
He wiped his mouth upon his sleeve and went to eat the world.
He ate the Egypt pyramids and every church in Rome,
And all the grass in Africa and all in ice in Nome.
He ate each hill in green Brazil and then to make things worse
He decided for dessert he’d eat the universe.
He started with the moon and stars and soon as he was done
He gulped the clouds, he sipped the wind and gobbled up the sun.
Then sitting there in the cold dark air,
He started to nibble his feet,
Then his legs, then his hips
Then his neck, then his lips
Till he sat there just gnashin’ his teeth
‘Cause nothin’ was nothin’ was
Nothin’ was nothin’ was
Nothin’ was left to eat.
-Shel Silverstein
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