It’s been a good six years since I went through a bout of bulemia. There’s not a lot to be said about it, really- I was depressed and suicidal on account of being ostracized for my sexuality. I also- and I cringe at the stereotype that I was enforcing on myself- really, really wanted to be a “pretty girl.”
As far as bulemia and every other very bad thing ™ in my life at the time goes I (and several friends who will probably never know the extent of my gratitude) halted the downward spiral in time. For me, the cycle lasted a year. I was lucky.
Now those of you who have met me will note that I am not, shall we say, thin and waif-like. Short and somewhat overweight is a more accurate description, and it’s for this reason that I’ve decided to start a diet. A healthy, measured one that involves no hunkering over toilet bowls and and reliance on breath mints. No, this time I’m trying diet and exercise, as supervised by my dear friend and fellow dieter Renegade Librarian.
The lasting effects in my case are, I’m sure, completely predictable. I’m afraid of diets on general principle, I have a passionate dislike for the way various people an institutions dictate what is or isn’t beautiful. And it’s been six years but I still have a fear of slipping back.
One more lasting effect: I’ll be damned if any daughter of mine is anorexic or bulemic for one minute.
I was wondering if any other dopers had stories that they’d like to share. Eating disorders just aren’t talked about, and I know from experience that silence is foolish and dangerous.