"Why 'just eat in moderation' is a destructive response to my disordered eating."

by Mamamia Team May 10, 2015

When food has been your friend, your therapist, your enemy, and your deep dark secret for the better part of your life, pulling it away flippantly is tantamount to taking away a toddler’s security blanket and wonder why they are crying.

I’ve said my piece about the tricky and delicate act of balancing body positivity with weight loss, and self-love and self-change. It is tricky, but it is doable. And in this quest I’ve been poo-flung from both sides: from “thinspo” fat shamers who admonish me for getting “this size” in the first place, and so-called “body positive advocates” who de-value my feminism for wanting to shed a few pounds.

But by far, the worst mindset comes from the mouths of some when I speak about my food or exercise regimen.

I do the “insufferable” calorie-counting thing, in conjunction with the “weird” low-carb thing, and work out 10-12 hours a week. It WORKS for me. It’s tough. But it works. However, like clockwork, a person (who’s never suffered a weight problem or desire to down a bowl of brownie batter while sitting in their closet) will come along and smugly declare:

“You don’t have to go to such extremes. Just eat in moderation. Just cut down and you won’t have to do these crazy diets.”

Let me tell you about the history of Little Bear and food. I grew up in a Sicilian and Jewish family that celebrated, mourned, and socialised every which way with food. But at the same time, they demonised it. (Post continues after gallery.)

We love these celeb quotes on body image

Lady Gaga

After the media focused on her alleged weight gain in September 2012, Gaga hit back at critics by baring her body in photographs, sharing her struggles with an eating disorder, and inviting her fans to join her in a "body revolution"/ Image via @ladygaga

Rebel Wilson

The actress said on Twitter; "I'm not trying to be hot. I'm just trying to be a good actress and entertain people." Image via @rebelwilson

Alexa Chung

Chung responded to critics who suggested that her slight frame made her a bad role model for young women, saying: "Just because I exist in this shape doesn't mean that I'm, like, advocating it." Image via Twitter @alexa_chung

Adele"The first thing to do is be happy with yourself and appreciate your body - only then should you try to change things about yourself." Image via Getty

Ashley Judd

After the March 2012 frenzy around Judd's "puffy face" the actress fought back in 'The Daily Beast', calling the media out for making women's bodies "a source of speculation, ridicule, and invalidation, as if they belong to others". Image via @ashley_judd

Christina Aguilera

"I am always in support of someone who is willing and comfortable in their own skin enough to embrace it," the singer said in a recent interview. Image via @xtina

Lena Dunham

At the 2012 New Yorker Festival, the magazine's TV critic, Emily Nussbaum, asked Lena Dunham, producer, creator and star of the hit HBO show 'Girls' why Dunham is naked in so many scenes. Dunham responded; "I realised that what was missing in movies for me was the presence of bodies I understood." She said she plans to live until she is 105 and show her thighs every day. Image via @lenadunham

Stella BoonshoftThe NYU student started the amazing Body Love Blog, where she posted this picture of herself and wrote an open letter to those who feel entitled to shame others for the size or look of their bodies. Image via http://thebodyloveblog.tumblr.com"> Body Love Blog

Beth Ditto

This five-foot-tall, 200-pound singer spoke openly about her weight to 'The Advocate' saying, "I feel sorry ... for people who've had skinny privilege and then have it taken away from them. I have had a lifetime to adjust to seeing how people treat women who aren't their idea of beautiful and therefore aren't their idea of useful, and I had to find ways to become useful to myself." Image via @marybethditto

“Right to my hips,” they’d laugh self-deprecatingly, sprinkling parmesan on their pasta. “Getting a little chubby,” they’d warn me, spooning a few more matzoh balls into my soup. I learned from a very young age to both rely on and fear food.

There was no improvement as puberty—precociously early—ravaged my PCOS-leaden body, and weight piled around my belly like a sleeping boa constrictor. With the emotional and financial devastation of my parents’ divorce, my relationship with food grew even more sordid and complex.

When my family was depressed, they’d grab a bag of chips and lock themselves in their room.

When we had weeks where the money wasn’t coming in, we stocked up on cheap, starchy fillers: white rice, $.12 packages of ramen, and pancake mix.

When a little bit of money fell into our laps we celebrated by going to the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet, sometimes staying there for two hours at a time.

As I transitioned from chubby teen to chubby adult, I took all of these tendencies with me. I wasn’t the depressed girl who shunned food, wasting away to nothing. I was the one crying into my General Tso’s.

Image via iStock

From bad to worse: my mother then went and had gastric bypass surgery, which within two years brought her from 320 to 120 pounds. The recovery was hell, but she muttered “it’s worth it” through every ache and pain.

As she got thinner and I got fatter, I began to panic at the sudden dynamic shift. Being only 22, I only qualified for the laparoscopic band, but it would do. On August 15th, 2006, I went under the knife for my cause.

Here is what I didn’t realise: You can have all the physical barriers in place, but if your head’s not in it, it’s not going to work. I dropped a good 40 pounds in the beginning, but as my body adjusted, I began to eat . . . and eat . . . and eat.

Eventually, I ate through my surgery. In two years I went from telling everyone about my surgery, to telling no one, to even denying it to anyone who asked. Today, it probably hangs around my stomach by a string, loosely looping it like the rings of Saturn. I forget it’s there.

The only thing surgery taught me is when I get full, throwing up alleviates that immediately. So while I didn’t lose any weight, I learned that when I felt gross about how much I ate, I could just go throw up.

For the next eight years, I threw up my food daily. Because, I deluded myself, if you’re going to be fat, this is your punishment.

So when the shame of unsuccessful weight loss surgery hit? I ate.

And when I was still hungry after I threw up? I ate again.

And when my poor self-image and hatred for myself took hold, and I would fuck anyone who would even look at or talk to me, causing me to go home and wonder why I was doing this? I ate.

And when I got into a relationship with someone who hit and cheated on me regularly, and I was too afraid to leave and be alone? I ate.

And when I began snorting coke to stop thinking about it? I (still) ate.

"Eating was my comfort". (Image via iStock.)

And when I was raped by a cop but too afraid to tell anyone about it because trying to convince anyone that NYPD post 9/11 were anything other than heroes was blasphemy? I ate.

Now, at 32, after years of fluctuating, hating, crying, (but at least no longer puking and snorting coke) and agonising over WHY CAN’T I JUST EAT WHEN I’M HUNGRY LIKE A "NORMAL PERSON?’" It is now that I finally understand: I can’t “just eat when I’m hungry.” I have to learn. I have to get help. I have to train my mind and my body. And while none of this is my fault (I see that now), it is my responsibility to take the steps to remedy it.

At age 32, I am learning how to eat.

But more so, I have learned this: Telling me to "just eat in moderation" is fucking dismissive and useless.

Everyone’s personal journey, story, and experience is just that: personal. If eating has only ever been a thing you do when the tummy growls, and a thing you STOP doing when the tummy is full? Then of course, moderation is an answer, because moderation is a given.

But when food has been your friend, your therapist, your enemy, and your deep dark secret for the better part of your life, pulling it away flippantly is tantamount to taking away a toddler’s security blanket and wonder why they are crying.

No, I can’t just eat in moderation—at least not yet. But I am fine-tuning and honing and perfecting my body with the honour, respect, and love of a hand-crafted sword. It is my (albeit very elaborately decorated) temple, and I will no longer desecrate it with the words and judgements of people who condescendingly refuse to understand how it was built.

I have to remind myself, cliché as it is, that all of these events have made my mind and heart stronger, more adaptable, more durable. Now, I am working on making a body to match.

What advice do you wish people would stop giving?

About Little Bear Schwarz: When not pounding out feminist rants, Little Bear Schwarz can be found performing in the Seattle area as an opera & showtune singer, and as a 100% natural bearded lady with sideshow troupe, Wreckless Freeks. She enjoys strong coffee, stinky cheese, social justice, and Shakespeare.