Anorexia in Your 30s: My Backwards Love Affair with Food

During my first week on the outside (of my mother's uterus, that is), I ate and ate and ate and spit it all back up. I was a hungry, hungry hippo. My doctor put me on baby cereal after one week because I was starving. During my first year, I had the chubbiest baby legs ever. They had rolls upon rolls. My mom thought they were cute. I look at those pictures now and think, "Didn't they have baby liposuction in the late 70s?"

Somewhere along the way, my insatiable hunger dissipated. I became a picky eater who only ate pb&j with the crust removed. I ate it so much in my young like that today, even the thought of those 2 flavors mixed together makes me gag. I don't want to see it, smell it, or eat it. I wasn't trying to limit my food intake back then; I simply wasn't hungry and I didn't crave food like most people did.

I went through 7th grade thin as a beanpole. I was still a stick in 8th grade, although that's when I felt I started to get "fat". The reality of the situation was that I was getting curves. I didn't understand that as the female body matures, it takes on a female form. I wasn't supposed to have the no-hipped features of the boys in my class. I wasn't supposed to have stick legs.