Shelter From the Spoon

You say football, I say soccer. You say tablespoon, I say tablespoon… but apparently these are different things, as I learned in a very frustrating exchange with the dietitian today. How did I live here for 8 years and (a) not know a dessertspoon was a measure of anything and (b) that a tablespoon (which I guess some people call a dessert spoon) could be 2 teaspoons (if it’s the kind you use at the table) or 3 teaspoons (the cooking unit of measure)? Maybe I’ve got that wrong. I’m so confused and actually kind of annoyed, because all I want to do is try to eat according to plan. I realize an extra teaspoon of anything here and there isn’t going to make a huge difference, but the mess of it does my head in.

Tonight was another round of treatment: A small group thing that was a lot about processing feelings, and then another lecture that was more boring than the one on Tuesday, which was about cravings. This one was about service and sponsorship in 12-step programs, and not only did I know all of it, but frankly I thought the counselor did a pretty crap job of explaining it. (Lest you think I’m being critical, the woman next to me – who truly knew nothing about twelve-step programs – was thoroughly confused.)

Apparently there are more of us with eating disorders this time around then there have been in a long time – my friend who did it was the only one in her treatment group – so the counselors leading the group asked if the guys (both who are in for drug treatment) understood about eating disorders. It was both hilarious and embarrassing to listen to them try to explain it. I don’t think anyone who has an eating disorder has trouble understanding drug or alcohol addiction, but the reverse is definitely not true. One of the guys kept saying incredulously, “But what you do is natural.” (What it turned out he meant was that you have to go out and first try drugs or alcohol to get addicted.)

And because I’m trying to note things as I notice them, because they fade and become ordinary so quickly: Brits always seem to say something is “interesting” when they’re not sure what to say. Hmmm...interesting, right?