Dear Mrs. Bluth,
I am sitting and weeping as I write to you. I am utterly broken and ashamed. This has been the absolute worst Yom Tov ever and I just want to lie down and never wake up again. I’m not going to take my own life, I’m too much of a coward for that, however, I am standing very close to the edge.
I was born twenty-eight years ago, the middle child amongst seven girls. I was a chubby baby who never lost her baby fat while my sisters all grew into lovely, svelte young women who had no trouble making friends, getting jobs or finding husbands. My parents doted on the other girls, made them fun birthday parties when they were young, but not for me. I guess it was because I had no friends to invite. My mother had no problem shopping for my sisters in all the popular stores and buying them pretty outfits while I, at the age of twelve, had to shop in the women’s department to find clothes that would fit. At that time I weighed well over one hundred pounds. As we grew up, my older sisters tried to avoid having me around when their friends came over and I felt too ashamed to be seen, so I spent a great deal of time hiding in my room, or the basement, where I could lose myself in books and forget my miserable existence. When they got married I was so mortified by my gargantuan girth, which was exacerbated by the gown I was forced to wear, that I refused to walk down the isle and spent almost the whole affair holed up in the bridal dressing room so as to avoid taking pictures.
So, now you have a small idea of what my life is like.
My parents tried to make me feel good, as did other family members. To this day everyone tells me what a beautiful face I have, with peaches and cream skin and gorgeous blond hair. That’s where it ends. From the neck down I’m a hideous mountain of gelatinous fat and those comments only serve to make me feel worse, sending me running to the pantry to grab the hidden bag of sweets and chips that help me get over the feelings of worthlessness. It is the vicious cycle of my life.
And then this Yom Tov my parents decided to go to a hotel and insisted I go with them. I know they wanted to do it for me, in the hopes that I would find a young man who would see what they saw in me without actually being blind. So, we went to this hotel where most of the guests were either young family groups or elderly. As luck would have it, we shared our table in the dining room with a family who had four young children who couldn’t stop staring at me. But then, everyone in the hotel stared at me, along with the wait staff who snickered and made bets on who would serve us. A few elderly ladies made hurtful comments, thinking I couldn’t hear them. However, what did we me in was when the oldest of the four children sitting with us asked me when I was going to explode! I ran up to my room and didn’t come out until check-out time, ignoring my parents’ please to join them for meals and activities.
I am so miserable in this body, I hate myself, but I can’t stop gorging, as it seems to be the only thing that gives me comfort. I know I’m my own worst enemy but I’m a prisoner trapped within myself. I long to feel pretty, accepted, normal. I wish I knew what it feels like to have friends, to laugh and not to stand out as the oddity in a crowd. I wish I could find someone who would see me for the person I am and not for the gross aberration my appearance represents. I wish I could find a way to make my wish come true. I don’t want pity, just assistance if you can.
Dear Friend,
Pity parties are the saddest affairs and serve only to keep you stuck in the place you are trapped in, so there will be pity here! What I will offer you is logical and constructive advice on how to begin the journey of finding and releasing the tormented, trapped and thinner you that longs to be set free.
Like a drug addict who relies on synthetic potions to numb the task of daily living, you have become addicted to food as a means of insulating yourself against reality. What is most important, and what you seem to be overlooking, is the reason you turned to food for the comfort, love and self acceptance that should have naturally evolved and been instilled in you as you grew from infancy. Without more information about your family dynamics and relationships, I can only assume that something went wrong somewhere in your early youth that caused you to doubt yourself or convinced you that you weren’t good enough, worthy enough or that you were somehow different from your siblings. As a young child, you could not process the initial hurt, the seed that started the spiral, so you latched on to the one thing that was readily available and gave you comfort, validation and helped you get through the day. You need to see a therapist who specializes in eating disorders to help you get to the core issue of what got you to this stage and assist you in finding the strength and the will to start changing the hurtful and debilitating habit that rules your life and bolsters your misery.
As you become stronger and realize why you abuse food and self-destruct whenever you or others make you feel bad about yourself, you will find it easier to change your eating habits. As you begin to trust how you feel about your self-worth, you will learn to eat to live, not live to eat. Your diet will become healthier and with the inclusion of moderate exercise you should see wonderful results in a short time.
