I know an amazing person who has pretty severe diabetes. Like, Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias, Kidney Transplant Required diabetes. She's pretty cavalier about it. The last time I saw her, she was like, "You know what? I need a martini!" AND I KID YOU NOT, she pulled a syringe right out of her purse, stuck it through her oh-so-smart, black Donna Karan pantsuit and injected insulin right into her thigh. And then got our server's attention to order her drink "with a twist." This person is a mentor of mine anyway, but in that moment, my jaw dropped. I laughed, clinked her glass with my Diet Coke and thought: "Role Model."
So I'm not shy about the fact that I take anti-depressants. I have many, many gifts, but subtlety is not among them. I'm okay with that. In fact, I've been reading quite a few blogs lately where people are talking about their daily doses of Effexor. I'm thinking about starting a new blogroll, actually. Forget "mommy bloggers;" that's soooo 2004. This is the year of the "Effexor Bloggers!" Heh.
So you know, I like to say that I have my emotional baggage, but I've spent a lot of time making sure it's cute and it all matches. I had a lot of support from educated and supportive family members who knew my brain chemistry might go boink! at some point.
It's true that making peace with my body will be a lifelong journey, but my relationship with food is, at the moment, pretty decent. Of course, it's also true that I don't like to talk about my weight. (Period. No criticisms OR compliments, please! Nope! Thanks anyway! I know you mean well, but if we dwell on this subject too long I might be up all night trying on all my clothes to make sure they still fit! It's FUN! Woo hoo! Keep movin' folks! Let me show you how I can break boards with my feet instead! Yeah, my body does that. Cool, huh?)
But I think I knew my Food Issues were officially under control about three and a half years ago, when Alissa (psychology internship applicant extraordinaire- keep it up! You're doing great!) pointed out that my recipe book for crepes was right next to Geneen Roth's "Why Weight? A Guide to Ending Compulsive Dieting" on my bookshelf. Along those lines, I just got a care package from home containing (wait for it; wait for it) whoopie pies and anti-depressents.
Awesome. I think my therapists Cindy, Linea, Francis, Dr. Bruette, that Other Mean Lady I Only Saw Twice, Because I Might Be Crazy But You're a Bitch and Susan would be proud.