Posts Tagged ‘portia de rossi’

Be careful what you ask for. For years, I’ve been asking the powers that be for guidance, for a sign—God, too many times to count—and/or to be led and shown the way. THE RIGHT WAY. Whatever that is.

I didn’t count on discovering that I have body image issues and, most likely, some kind of eating disorder. I became even more acutely aware of all this earlier this year as I was co-writing my new book, with Dr. Maria Rago, called “Shut Up, Skinny Bitches!” That I would be lead to write a book that directly focused on some of my own issues—priceless.

The book is out now. Indulge.

In the meantime, Thanksgiving weekend. Food. Lots of it.

But this holiday, I didn’t really indulge—that much. I didn’t overeat, something I take some pride in. I just let myself be. And still, even though I ate, what I would consider to be “normal” helpings during meals, I couldn’t help but notice the anxiety I felt when I strolled through some of the men’s clothing stores in Union Square in San Francisco.

Trying on clothes— HELL for anybody suffering from eating and body image disorders.

Your body doesn’t feel like your own. At least mine doesn’t—at times. It feels like this thing I have absolutely no control of; and whose image I often cannot embrace.

So, there I was in Banana Republic, my mind racing, the sadness growing:

“I’m fat. I can’t try on clothes. Maybe when I lose 10 pounds. Maybe then. But not now. Not now when I feel like the Garfield balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. Certainly not today when my stomach doesn’t feel flat; when I don’t look like a 22-year-old Slim Jimmin’ Twink ringing up people behind the counter; not today when I feel so unattractive and beaten down and

JUST
PLAIN
HUGE!!!!!!!”

Yeah. Thanksgiving Saturday wasn’t a good day for me to step into a clothing store. So I compromised. I bought NORTH of where I felt fat. (Never hurts.) Two nice shirts later, I pranced out of there modestly happy, and all too aware that I got some serious stuff brewing within; stuff that really needs attending to.

And then … this morning: I didn’t really feel fat at all. At least not where I felt fat yesterday.

Am I fat?

No.

But I sure do feel it—most days.

Fat. Skinny. Is there anything right—or wrong—with either? Where did all my judgment come from? When did I allow my entire self-esteem to be controlled by how big, or not big, I feel during the course of a day?

In my new book, we address those suffering from body image disorder; how sometimes they can be shut-ins, closing themselves off from people and events—because, on, say, that certain day, they feel completely inadequate about their body. I recall one day, Maria writing that she knew people who showered with the lights off, mainly because they didn’t want to see there body when they stepped out of the shower.

I was there. (I think, Tuesday? And so many other “Tuesdays” before.)

It’s all perception, of course. But oftentimes, a distorted perception.

I know that there’s nothing wrong with me. There can’t be. That idea doesn’t align with a greater TRUTH.

But I don’t feel as if there’s nothing wrong with me. And that’s the big difference. There’s a huge gap between what I know to be true and what I feel to be true. And someday, I hope to shorten that gap.

For now, each day, as I move through this often frustrating exploration of my own eating and body image issues, I grow more and more fascinated with my mind—and what it’s telling me

… vs. what is really so.