Are You an Eater?

"I hereby agree, from this day forward, to fully participate in life on earth. I agree to inhabit the appropriate vehicle for such participation - a body. As a requisite for the sustaining of that body, and of the life that dwells therein, I agree to be an eater. This agreement fully binds me for the duration of my stay on Earth...

... I recognize that at its deepest level, eating is an affirmation of life. Each time I eat, I agree somewhere inside to continue life on earth. I acknowledge that this choice to eat is a fundamental act of love and nourishment, a true celebration of my existence. As a human being on earth, I agree to be an eater. I choose life again and again..."

- "The Eater's Agreement" by Marc David, from Nourishing Wisdom

Kiki (whose return to the land of blogging definitely was welcomed with a parade and marching band... at least in my head) tagged me back in the day to fill out the foodie survey which was spreading around the blogosphere like self tanner at a Tiny Miss USA pageant.

It's been about a month now, yet I'm still struggling to finish the survey. Partly because my eats are quite repetitive and boring, but it's more than that. My dietician doesn't know what I eat. She knows I'm following my meal plan's exchanges, but whenever she tries to talk about specific foods I get super uncomfortable and change the subject. It's as though by not talking about specific products I don't have to face or own up to the fact that I eat and can continue pretending that my dietician doesn't know either. I want her to think I subsist on rainbows and glitter like a unicorn, I guess. 

Nom nom.

Like they said, denial ain't just a river in Egypt! But of course this is a delusion on my part because obviously she knows from the scale and my being alive that calories are getting into me. I eat, but why is that so hard to admit? Just typing this post is making me feel squirmy and self conscious. I've always marveled at how food bloggers not only take photos of and document their food, but say things like that it was good or "orgasmic." I'm so ashamed of my body, of it's hunger and needs. The word "appetite" freaks me out like no other, as does the idea of admitting to wanting something. I want to not want... Quite a catch-22 right there! 

I have never seen anything so awesome.

I remember once being told, "You are a human being who doesn't want to have a human experience." I think that's absolutely true. A big part of me wants to be a robot, not a person. Robots are cold, impenetrable, sterile. They don't need or bleed and, most importantly, cannot be hurt. I believe part of my anorexia was an attempt to emulate that bare bones essence, both in terms of my body and existence. I strove for a body devoid of anything that didn't serve a purpose and a life which was clean and safe... But there's one thing about robots which I didn't consider. No matter how hard I try I will never be one, and I don't want to anymore. A robot may be safe, but it also doesn't have fun or live. Living is a lot scarier and messier but it's real. And if being real means eating X times a day, I'll do it. I choose life again and again.

"You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

- Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit