Overeater's Anonymous, I Need Your Help

So, today I was feeling a bit on the melancholy side, it being Monday and all, and I decided that I needed a "food is love" moment.
 
It happens (once a day) sometimes that I just need a sugary snack to quell my anxieties.  I'm a chick with a sweet tooth, and a derriere to prove it.
 
Today I couldn't pass up the most giantest of cupcakes--I knew it wasn't going to even compare to
these little balls of heaven, but hell, it was the next best thing.  So I bought it, and sheepishly snuck it into my office.
 
I knew it was a stupid thing to do, because I knew I was going to get "caught".  Not that I am a closet eater or anything like that, but the last thing someone who looks like me (read, not skinny) wants to do is be seen with a cupcake the size of my right tit (read, big) so that all the anorexic women in my office can look at me and sneer.
 
I took a bite of the cupcake and pushed it aside, almost hiding it behind a folder rack.  Maybe I wouldn't even eat the rest of it.  One bite was all I needed...
 
...and then, one of the aforementioned anorexic women decided to pay me a visit.
 
I could feel my palms get sweaty. I lost my train of thought. I tried to position myself in front of the cupcake so that she wouldn't be able to see it, sitting there, big bite taken out of it.  I felt confident that the cupcake was hidden from sight, until...
 
"What the hell is that?" she giggled and pointed.  Maybe she's talking about my parrot tiki mug?
 
No such luck.  I followed her gaze. She was giving my cupcake the evil eye.
 
"Jesus.  That thing is huge.  Look at that pile of frosting!" she shrieked.  Oh I didn't need to look.  I knew how big the pile was.  It was the size of a giant's fist.
 
I stammered, "I...uh...sometimes I just gotta....you know.....stress eat....going to gym...later..." as if this could make up for the deadly sin I was commiting, eating more than 1500 calories, in one sitting.
 
She continued on an on, discussing the sugar, the fat, the jitters I would get, the diabetic coma I was going to go into. She pulled another co-worker aside and said "Look how stressed out she is, she needs to eat such a thing."
 
I snapped back to my senses and finally started to get annoyed.  "The only thing I'm stressed out about is the fact that you are insisting on analyzing my food."
 
She finally got the message, and she and her bony ass left my cube.
 
I then proceeded to finish off the entire fucking cupcake, paper and all.  When that was gone, I ate my desk, my phone, and my cubemates.
 
The only thing that is left is this laptop, but rest assured, once I finish typing, it's going down the hatch, mateys.

I'm Ok, You're Ok.

I used to be one of those annoying, body dysmorphic, eating-disordered girls. You know the ones I speak of. The girls who are way too skinny, who go from starving themselves one day to bingeing on an entire Entenmann’s cake the next. I was obsessed with the way I looked, and would say things to people such as “I’m soooooo fat” knowing full well that I was nowhere near fat, and just needing to hear all of my enablers tell me so.

Today, I am far from too skinny. I am quite zaftig, actually, but proud of my curves. Through years of intense therapy, I have, for the most part, ridden myself of the body issues that have plagued me for years.

And then, I come across one of “those” girls. And I want to punch someone in the face.

I have a friend who is very, very tall. And very, very skinny. She is someone who can eat pretty much whatever she wants, and is naturally athletic and fit. It’s not a secret. We can see, with our own eyes, how good she looks. People tell her all the time how they wish they looked like her. Yet, somehow, this is not good enough.

I will see her after a weekend, in her skinny jeans, and hear about how she engorged herself for the last three days. Too much beer, too many chicken wings. How FAT she must be from such a bacchanal. She points out her non-existent muffin top. “Oh ____, you look great,” we say, in unison, on cue.


One time, during a shopping spree (stupid, stupid me, allowing myself to accompany her. I should have known better. Cheese gets a spanking for that.) she kept picking things out for me that she thought would look good. I know she meant well, but it was horrifying for me to have to admit that the sizes she was picking up, as well as the styles she was throwing my way, were never going to fit me. Maybe I’M the one that’s body dysmorphic, but I just couldn’t help feeling that she was trying to make herself feel better by hearing me admit the bigger size that I actually wear. Hi, paranoid much? ;)

The last conversation we had, she regaled me with tales of a wedding that she attended over the weekend. She spent all of her time stuffing her face, it seems (the usual). But this time, it was ok. Because at the wedding, someone told her that she looked like she could use a cheeseburger. What fun! Someone thought she was so skinny, that she needed to eat! Isn’t that hysterical? So, in response to this, my friend went out and gorged herself all weekend, since some stranger at a wedding told her that she could!

I know, I know, I’m a jealous, issued bitch. At least I own it.