TW: Eating Disorders, Sexual Assault
A post about a show I started watching amongst the snow storm that turned into something unrefined.
I picked this back up during the snow storm. I love a good med drama show. Preferably one with more medical drama than personal drama amongst the characters. I love a good case.
I’m also a fan of how they title the episodes. And I think it’s pretty practical. Each episode title is the current hour they’re in.
10:00 AM, season 2, episode 4
This won’t contain spoilers. I think it would be a cool show to check out for yourself. What I will offer you is a patient that was present in the hospital that morning. A Black woman that had come in with flu like symptoms. They notice her oxygen has gone down while her temperature does up, because of this she was admitted for a full evaluation She was more concerned about making it to work than staying in the hospital. Hoping that the doctors working on her case can just give her some meds and send her on her way.
The doctors notices a few symptoms that may have been caused by excessive vomiting. They ask her if she’s had the flu or a stomach bug recently, and she says no. They then take a look into her mouth and notice that the enamel on her back teeth has eroded. At this point, I know what it is and hope she feels comfortable telling them the truth.
Before she’s discharged, she opens up to them about making herself throw up. She is met with care as they talk about attending therapy sessions to help with her eating disorder. When she asks for a Black therapist, they happily tell her that would be no problem.
Wow.
When it comes to conversations about eating disorders, Black women are left out. I’ve struggled with an eating disorder myself. I’ve struggled with food. I’ve struggled with counting calories.
I’ve always found ways to move my body. Pole dancing, running, yoga, pilates.
Pole dancing was something that I wanted to do for years and I finally took my first pole class in my 20s. Now I have a pole in my home.
Running feels good to do. I don’t track my miles. I don’t track my steps. I just hit the asphalt and run. Or the treadmill. Whatever works in the moment.
Yoga is all about time for myself. Time for me to come back to myself. Time for me to center myself. Time for me to stretch my body and feel whats going on. Feel whats going on in those hips. This aids pole as well. Seeing the shapes my body can take. Feeling through my body and giving myself grace where needed.
Pilates. Strength training. Just me at home with YouTube. Also helpful for pole.
Currently, moving my body looks like pole, yoga, weights, and cardio. I’ve now know what a RDL is. I’m not shy about walking into the weights section of the gym. I’m upping that incline on the treadmill. I’m locked in.
There is a visceral joy when working out. Moving my body, moving through my body. The main goal is to get stronger. Losing weight is no longer the priority. I’m a big girl. Sturdy even. And I’m proud of the body that I have. I love the body that I have. Working out is another way to work through my emotions as well.
I’m building a better relationship with my body. Counting calories and weighing myself aren’t parts of my fitness routine. Because FOR ME counting calories is a slippery slope. It becomes this sick game of numbers. At first my eating disorder consisted of restricting foods. Foods that I deemed “bad”. Eating only [it would make sense I take this out because I don’t want to trigger anyone with numbers] calories a day. Waking up early to workout before school (high school, mind you). Not sustainable at all. Restriction and control. The hyper sexualization of my body made me feel that I had no control. Leering eyes on parts of my body that I didn’t sexualize.
That can be very fucking uncomfortable.
My eating disorder and anxiety, working in tandem, made me feel like if I stop eating so much people will stop looking at me. The first time I was sexually assaulted in public I immediately took to wearing baggy clothes because I didn’t want anyone to see me. I did not think I would drop that tidbit in there, but it’s relevant to the conversation. And it’s playing ever so vividly in my mind on a loop. I wanted to disappear.
I was deep in my eating disorder. I’m talking pro-ana livejournal forum deep in my eating disorder. In search of community, in search of understanding. Because this was my big secret. I couldn’t imagine telling anyone I had an eating disorder. “Oh you have issues with food? Ha ha, thats so silly” is what I felt people would say. Especially being a Black girl. If depression is something you can pray away, then an eating disorder is nothing a sandwich can’t fix. (IYKYK)
Eating disorders don’t just come in anorexia and bulimia. I found myself with a binge eating disorder at some point. Combine that with Lexapro and I was looking at a different body. Seroquel definitely gives me the munchies, but it’s something about that Lexapro that holds onto weight.
I was looking at a different body. Clothes fit differently. Lingerie fit differently. Buying into the notion of holding onto items with the goal of losing weight. Then I finally asked myself, what the fuck am I shrinking for? What am I trying to shrink for? Who am I trying to shrink for?
What feels good to me?
Wearing clothes that fit. Wearing clothes I feel good in. Finding a good pair of pants! Wearing nothing but a robe. Wearing no clothes. Walking around naked has done wonders for the way I view myself. Sometimes I just want my body to be. To spread and exist with no restriction.
I’ve done away with clothes that no longer served me. My current relationship with food is one of sustenance. Like duh we all know we need food for sustenance, but actually telling myself “hey you feel crappy right now, and a meal might be just what you need.” I’m trying to reframe cooking for myself as a way to show love to myself. Sometimes, I do not want to be in that damn kitchen. But when I do take the time to cook a meal I enjoy, it’s like a love letter to myself in the most cliché way possible.
I’ve come to know of other Black women who have struggled with eating disorders. The Pitt knocked me off kilter a bit. They approached her with ease AND said getting her a Black therapist would be no problem? Yeah, I needed that. Not gonna lie, that probably healed something in me. Perhaps this post healed something in me.
Oi! A long one yeah?
I feel like this post is ending on a somber note, and I don’t want to give you whiplash with a jokey joke. Thank you for being here, thank you for taking the time to read. THANK YOU.
and
HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH.
💞
Lingerie Slayer 
Thoughts?