True North

Repeat after me: No matter what the problem is, eating will not solve it.

I don’t really know what the problem is, but on Friday I ate over it. Yes, I binged – only less than four days after the last two-day bender. I left a lunch with a fellow journalist and just kept eating. That night I felt so sick I could hardly concentrate on what a friend was saying at dinner. At one point, I went to the bathroom and stood with my sweaty forehead against the cool stall door, willing myself to remember how awful being too horribly full feels so that I don’t do it again. I hate being that full. I hate being unable to concentrate; just wishing time would pass so that I’ll feel less full.

I feel OK now, if a bit shaky. I’ve made it through four days of eating appropriately, although I’m seriously nervous about the next couple of weeks. I’ve got a cream tea on Saturday for a friend’s leaving drinks, then a birthday dinner that night. And next week I’m running around Spain with a certain Oscar-winning Shakespeare in Love actress (hint: she looked like one of those pink-covered Hostess marshmallow cupcakes – I think they were called Snowballs -- when she accepted her award) and a very famous chef while they make a food show (eek!) for television. Then it’s back to London where I’ve got another fancy tea for a friend’s birthday Friday. And then it’s a ton of time in airports/on airplanes (a huge binge trigger for me) en route to Indonesia for vacation. (I’m already considering bringing all of my own food for the plane trip out so I don’t even have to think about what would be a good option.)

I’ve got two big problems at the moment. The first is that suddenly, all the foods I could just look past or through suddenly look very appealing. Every bakery window, every newsagent, everywhere I look there are things I want to eat. Even going into a market to buy fruit is a challenge – I’ll think I crave a grapefruit, but then end up buying an apple and a pear as well and being unable to choose which to eat. (I know an extra piece of fruit isn’t going to kill me – it’s just the idea that I don’t seem capable of making any food decisions at all.)

The second problem is that I’m not sure what the problem is – well, what the underlying problem is. Why am I suddenly bingeing? What am I trying to fix? I have this vague idea that it may be connected to Bachelor No. 2. As lovely as he is, as comfortable as I feel with him (and I do feel remarkably comfortable) and as well as things seem to be going, I’ve got a sense of uneasiness and imbalance that’s throwing my internal compass off its generally healthy north. I think a huge chunk of this is me and not him – the first therapist I had for binge eating told me I shouldn’t date at all while in treatment because it would just be too messy for me to handle; that I was just learning my own feelings and wouldn’t be able to deal with someone else’s. I also think part of my lapse is due to relationships in general – more meals out, more drinks, more reasons to stay cuddled up at home as opposed to trekking to Gloucester Road on a Sunday morning for Pilates! (But I did drag him for a run Saturday afternoon…It was short and about half the time I would have gone for had I gone myself, but at least we went.)

I’ve decided I probably won’t get on the scale until after my vacation, although I reserve the right to change that if I decide what I’m doing is avoiding facing the facts. But at the moment, my clothes still fit and today someone I haven’t seen in several weeks came into the office kitchen and said: “Hello, Miss Skinny.” Wish I could bottle that rush of pride – along with the memory of how it feels to be way too full – for weak moments.