Before and After

I'm going to show you the real me. As awful and ugly as it is.

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There isn't a more perfect, more attractive me under all the flesh and fat and muscle I have painstakingly evicted from my being. Underneath is just a hollow, weaker, maybe even faker person than I was before.

Most of my life has been a performance, tweaking my act to suit whatever audience I encounter. Perhaps, I wanted everyone, every group, every fractured part of me, to know and physically understand how little I've been consuming emotionally for 23 years.

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I was 20 years old. 156 pounds, and going without make-up for the first time since the seventh grade. I've never weighed this much in my entire life, and I feel fat, but at this point I don't have time to care much about it. That summer, I was on my first big adventure away from home, doing glorified physical labor 8-5 every day. Was I happy? Probably not. I was off meds at the time, but I would go back on them soon afterwards. Maybe I was happy though... as this is one moment where I actually let my arm rest against my side for a picture, even though it made everything spread apart into the worst and most unattractive kind of mush.

I am standing a bit askew. Props for that cowgirl.






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Yes I know, you've seen this one before, but I shy away from the camera and haven't found a more recent one. For those of you who missed it. 113(ish?) lbs. 3 weeks ago. I was rather excited to see a legendary Japanese sweetheart who I cut out of this photo because it upstages me. Compare to above photograph.














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I mentioned I'd been away from the scale, and moving stuff out of storage. I refused to let anyone help me. Not that there was really anyone to do it. Here's the end result of my legs. I think they're quite bruised (sorry for the shitty iChat photos, my Nikon USB is lost!) but if you've got better ones, I sympathize as these are a bit painful to the touch. But I'm proud of my bruises as they are physical calories burned. Here are also some shots of my tattoos. Judge or don't. I've never shown you my body. Of course, I've still gotten away with not giving you a standing pose. That will have to wait until the puffiness goes down. Weighed again (I know, I can't stay away)... back to 110. Ah, well, not everything is magical. I ate fast food and chain restaurants so what can I expect.

Happy picture viewing, they won't be up for long. Remind me to tell you sordid details about terrible things and drug and alcohol related events. Loving you with all my fractured pieces!

Vaca from the Scale - Part 1

Last Weigh in: 107
I've had quite a few things I've wanted to blog about...

• my clandestine adventures stealing measuring tapes to measure my waist (23" WHY DON'T I LOOK LIKE VICTORIA BECKHAM!?)
• the fortune in my cookie the other day: "Remember, it's the journey not the destination that counts" (Don't worry, I didn't eat the cookie)
• my attempt to eat "normally" around everyone while I'm away from the scale, and home, and safe foods (aka baby food, frozen veggies, and rice cereal) and my failure to be OK with it
• super secret adventures purchasing Wasted while on an outing with friends... it basically went like this "OH oh, you all go on ahead, I want to use the bathroom in Barnes and Nobles and then I'll catch up with you guys in line for the movies!" Sad sack.
• My paranoia at keeping said book hidden from the world. I've got Darkly Dreaming Dexter on top of it in my luggage as a thinly veiled attempt to hide it for now. Will wrap it in some sort of shirt later.
  
• Then the usu. You know... the pinching, prodding. Mirrors, reflections, second glances at myself.
  
• I'm trying to run around and lift as many heavy things (we're moving things out of storage) as possible. "No no, don't help me, it's easier if I do it by myself!!!" Burn calories burn calories.
  

Last week, I was kind of freaked out by 107. Now that I have no idea what I weigh, I'm thinking "I better damn well be 105 or I'll absolutely die."

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In the storage unit, there was a freight elevator I passed by.

Minimum Weight 100 pounds

Part of me at that point wanted to weigh 98 pounds just so the manager could say, "Hold on, you're too small to ride this elevator... we need to put something else on here with you."

I've never thought about going below 100, but now it's so tempting.

The History of Anorexia

... As Told By Savory Sweet

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Anorexia Nervosa would be categorized as an illness in the 19th century. However, its presence in history and practice by a segment of the population can be traced back at least to the medieval period.

Middle Ages
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At this point, classes were defined by the availability of food, with the upper classes participating in feasting to celebrate a myriad of religious and cultural events. However, as technology advanced agriculture, transportation, and socio-political-economics, the amount of food between the classes became less of an issue. The upper class now distinguished themselves by *how* they ate, and practiced self-restraint.

During this time, religious institutions began to more frequently associate food with spiritual adherents (the forbidden fruit, body and blood of Christ, etc.) and the Church along with some number of laymen would practice fasting days to observe religious holidays. Also rising in numbers, were girls who would begin abstaining from food during the medieval era, known as "fasting saints." This would be be Western Europe's first encounter with adolescent girls to control their bodies and social lives. Through fasting, these girls could prevent themselves from being married off, causing embarrassment to their families and circumventing ecclesiastic authority. Restriction of food served as both a spiritual undertaking as well as the assumption of self-control and social-restriction of others.

Victorian Period
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The Victorian Period would become the pinnacle of self-restraint and idealization of the upper class as thin and frail (as this indicated one was unfit to work, instead enjoying the idle idyll of leisure). Women were expected to manage the complicated dinner and tea set up, and yet refrain from eating publicly. A fat gluttonous body, during this time would indicate a complete lack of control, spiritually, morally, and carnally. These qualities were espoused as virtues a woman must hold precious, as indicated within The Cult of True Womanhood, and this could be manifested physically as a waif.

However, this would also be a time of scientific advancement (germ theory, patent medicine, etc.) and a system of of diagnosis and treatment began to form. This wasting female body with related ailments such as dyspepsia (chronic indigestion) and chlorosis (anemia) became a significant concern for doctors and families. The category "anorexia nervosa" and its symptoms (wasting body, refusal to eat food, absence of an organic origin) emerged from this new medical system. However, doctors paid little attention to the anorexic's complaints, and the family was considered unreliable and biased, therefore the doctor relied purely on his inexperienced knowledge of the disease and "scientific evidence" to treat the patient (mainly consisting of bed rest and refeeding).

Twentieth Century and Beyond
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Anorexia Nervosa has only recently, within the last few decades been regarded as a serious mental illness, though restrictive eating and dieting was still commonplace (see Great Depression, World War II). However, in the postwar years, companies began placing an importance on materialism and youth culture. Clothes became more revealing, and more of the body was displayed, with individuals newly anxious about aspects of their body never before displayed. Companies combated this anxiety with products targeting youth such as cosmetics and hair products, but with the sexual liberation of the 1960s-1970s there was still an increased sense of preoccupation with bodily appearnace. Women in particular were expected to purchase proper clothes, exercise adequately to maintain her shape, and consume food to display a socially and presentable figure.

News media began to warn of the "starving disease" and anorexia became increasingly diagnosed. Though today, statistics vary, it still remains to be the highest fatality rate of any other psychiatric illness and many patients still struggle with symptoms even after treatment. Further, male anorexia is increasingly on the rise with the ratio of males to females diagnosed currently at 1 to 10.

Anorexia is a continually shifting sociocultural pathology: as the currents of culture have changed, so too has its diagnosis, treatment, and conceptualizations.

One can see, that there is no one confounding factor, no lovely scapegoat that can be blamed and chastised for the emergence of today's eating disorders, in this case anorexia nervosa. Like almost everything, it remains a multiplicity of factors, and no one person or generation can claim to have witnessed its evolution.

What is an eating disorder? A religious connection? A rejection from parental control? Self-regulation? Socially enforced purity? A drive for beauty? Manifestation from adolescent anxiety? Consumerist motivated perfection, gone awry? Something to do with the brain? Shall I keep typing?

Random Stuff, Stuffed Together

This morning I had a freak out. My stupid Belkin router wouldn't let me access blogs because its firewall was making Google think I was sending Automated Traffic/Queries... and was a spam robot.

So I basically haven't figured out h2222222222111 (cat stepped on keyboard) to remedy this so I'm going to steal wireless from the neighbors until I have time to scream out Belkin on the phone.

Popping some Ativan helped. Literally, I was AIMing TR like "OMG OMG OMG I NEED to read my blogs! WTF is happening!? JESUS CHRIST!" And he was like "Calm down. You're getting hysterical." Then I started to bounce off the walls like Bugs Bunny in the cartoons and my dog started scream barking at me (when he does this, I imagine he's saying the worst profanities I know... I'm not going to repeat them here, his filthy dirty mouth doesn't need to be spread around).

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Some of you have asked over the last few months about my mother. Well, I've finally found a picture of her that she doesn't despise or claim to be a "Squished Pumpkin" so I think I can finally give you an understanding of why I call her "Paula Deen." My mother is on the left (at my college graduation) and Paula Deen is on the right (ah I couldn't help myself!). I'm sorry to disallusion everyone who thinks she is Paula Deen. My mother would like to clear the air, as she and Paula clearly pernounce the word "pecan" differently and thus it's a total insult. Apparently coming from Georgia and Alabama is also a big difference too. *rolls eyes*. I'm still going to call her P.D. and you should too.


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Lastly, thank you to both my faithful readers and commenters, and those of you who are just beginning to follow me on this crazy crazy skewed Savory's Wild Ride, we've got going on. Holly, as I knew she would, definitely did go back and look at my blog, and she's unphased. Like I said, many of my friends are screwed up.

So basically she doesn't care. I guess? I don't know. It doesn't really matter. I've already been institutionalized twice, taken 3 bottles of pills and been forced to drink charcoal, had my 2nd amendment right taken away from me, and gone through 9 different psychiatrists and therapists in the last 4 years. I guess I don't really care much either.

Anyway, I need to get caught up on everyone's blogs now that I'm stealing internet (mwahahaha!)... but I thought I'd send you a link to Holly's website. She's an artist and one of those annoying skinnies who doesn't have to try to be skinny (but of course she wants to lose 5 pounds!). So check it out if you get bored, and feel free to follow her blog since apparently EDs are NBD (nobigdeal) to her ;)

Oooh 10pts if you can find my fat ass!

EDIT: apparently commenting wasn't working, but now it is lol! Thanks

Sarah.

Explanation

Ok, so I'm always reading other cooler girls who are like "Okay girls, quick update. I'm at my friend's house so this has to be short!"

Yeah, well I tried to do one of those and totally failed. My friend, who is small and quick and a bit neurotic (her word not mine) totally snuck up on me when I was trying to blog about being worried about going to a bar last night and was like:

"YOU'RE BLOGGING ON YOUR PRIVATE BLOG ON MY PUBLIC COMPUTER!!!"
"I SAW SOMETHING ABOUT NOT GETTING A DRINK!? DO YOU NOT WANT TO DRINK!?"

Quickly, I closed it and told her I was worried about money. I hope she didn't see my user name. I cleared out her history. We drank and went to Denny's. It apparently made no dent on the scale. I almost wish it did. Like some sort of punishment is needed, "Savory, you are so stupid, I'm going to make you gain 27 pounds from Pancake Puppies and a Malibu/Diet Coke."

Anyway, she may or may not be reading my blog as I write this. Holly, if you're reading this, I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I complained about everyone being worried about my weight and tried to get you on my side, when clearly this has been anything but healthy. I'm sorry I left my unfinished Frutista Freeze outside of Mark's convertible that night in the parking lot. It was intentional. I didn't want to drag you in to my fucked up life, like the drama we have to deal with B, L, C, and R (especially R lol).

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OK, that's not being spoken of anymore.

I need to go read some blogs and follow some more peeps. I feel like I'm on the cusp of this new community that's forming... and I don't like to be on the outside of annnnything ;)

playing with fire.

FUCK.

more later

Even my avatars are fat...

If you haven't seen Mad Men, get the fuck off blogger and go watch some bootlegged copy right now. I'd mail you my special Zippo Lighter Season 1 DVD but I've just loaned it to some other sad sap who hasn't seen it...

For those of you still with me, today I've made myself into a subordinate 1960s kitchy woman. This was cute and fun until I felt ashamed of her and thought her arms were too fat to be pictured. I was totally honest about the nose though. In 2008, I don't smoke... unless I'm drunk or really melancholy and it's a cigarillo (mmm swisher sweets), but in 1961, I think I would have smoked a lot.

You can't see but my fat fat fatty arms are holding up a cup of black coffee to-go. That's right. I'm still fucked up in any generation you put me in. Scary thing is, thinking back, I'm pretty sure my mother (aka Paula Deen) back when she was a slight 87 pounds and a girl of 19 (already married with a baby) definitely looked just like this. Minus the cigarette. She's too wholesome. But she definitely had the anorexia, not by choice, just by... habit(?) I guess? Anyway, I suppose I really am reverting into my mother in some sort of alternate scary universe. I don't want to turn on the Food Network and think that that will be me in 40 years, putting my pinky finger in BBQ sauce and winking.

Shudder

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Speaking of fat arms. Oh what? We weren't talking about that? Well that's what I was thinking about. Recently, I discussed the fact that unknowingly, I programmed my Sim Savory self with 5 traits that gave me the life goal of "perfect mind, perfect body" aka ED in my humble opinion.

This is why I don't talk to things like small children that can be easily imprinted.

So, here's my fat ass little sim. Ok, I know she's not fat, she's as thin as she can get apparently. I'm upset that I can't make her smaller. She doesn't eat anything, and she's quite happy (there's even a feature that makes you less hungry.... uuuuuhhh, ok I'm going to choose not to go there). Anyway, basically I have a distorted image of myself in reality and in virtual reality.

This is sad. But sad in one of those "Oh look, the clown is crying! It's so ironic and funny and sad but really still funny actually because it's ironic."

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This must be why I can lose 2 pounds and be positive I had gained at least 4 pounds. I still think the jury is out. Possibly the scale is broken. Didn't weigh today because I ate a plum and then my friend made me eat a veggie sandwich with avacado.

I'm unreasonably afraid of avacado. It's triggering. So I had candy for the first time in a long time after this as well as some juice. Both were not worth it. Didn't really make for a real binge but I'm staying off the scale so me and my fat 1960s chain-smoking and fat-ED-book-reading-sim self can deal with another day of blissful ignorance and thinking about how fat our arms are.

Loathe loathe loathe.

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In other news, the blog is going to go through some renovations soon! I'm excited. A friend wants to assist, but I think it's her way of trying to find out what it is I'm writing about, so we'll have to put a lid on that one!

Loving each and every one of you. I'm slap happy. It's late here. I'm staying up to call London. Silly time difference. But it makes me feel closer to all my UK readers ;)

cheers,
SaVOrrRRrry!