Monday, 15 September 2008

An Introduction to Annie Rexia

I have been advised and cajoled by my husband to write this blog for a few months now.

It always makes me feel stupid and silly to actually do it, but, even if none of these posts are ever read, perhaps there is a cathartic quality from which I will glean?

A lot of this was prompted by a post by Linda. It wasn't that I didn't even have a sniff of her own, former problems, it was her raw, unadulterated honesty that galvanised me.

I have struggled with anorexia, and her slightly more benevolent sister, bulimia, since I was 22 - I am now 38 for those of you who want to do the maths. It's actually something you don't particularly want to boast about, even though to be 'Size Zero' is in vogue at the moment. For our American readers, to be Size Zero in the UK would mean I was YOUR Minus Four. Would I thus be floating off into outer-space?

So, as it stands (sits, as I am typing at this keyboard), I am now in a Size 6, UK size - US-size 2 and stand at 5' 8". And I am 38, and a mother, and have no illusions of being in the film industry, have no pretensions to grandeur, and just WANT TO BE...

First posts are always the hardest to write, aren't they? I feel such an idiot!

My problems with eating started earlier than I care to mention.

I have photographs of myself sitting, enjoying myself with my best friend and her siblings and Mother at their newly dug-out pool. My mother saw them and told me I looked like a Sumo Wrestler. That wonderfully happy time was marred instantly.

OK, you could turn round and say, You Eejit, ignore her, take no notice. But I was only ten...

It kicked off worse than this when I reached puberty. Being size 14 (10 for US) was abhorrent. She had never been like that, and indeed, could still fit into her wedding dress...if the bitch hadn't had to give it back to her sister-in-law because she was too cheap to buy her own...

Girls at school lied about their sizes, whereas I had always been brought up to tell the truth. I was size 14! They claimed 10s and 12s...but we all shopped at the same cheap outlet...

I got a boyfriend, at aged 17. I'd had one before, but he was a berk, took my virginity and ran, along with my Stranglers music. Mike loved me so much and it still, in some ways, pains me to admit it, because he did. He would do anything for me. Nothing was too much. If we had an argument, I would be waiting for him to drive down the A5662, to jump in his van with a letter I had written, explaining my angst, and he would read it, bring me flowers and White Linen, and all would be forgotten...

One night, Mike didn't come out with me. He had stuff to do, and that was cool.

I was dancing, in the pub, with a friend, and two men shouted out: Look at those Fat Cows, thinking they are fucking gorgeous.

I nearly died a thousand deaths and sat down immediately.

I set out on a very strict dietary course: no cheese, bread, red meat, carbs, fats....I INVENTED THE DR ATKINS DIET...Way before he did...

I dropped pounds like they were dandruff specs on the collar of your new black jacket. I looked rather good. I had all sorts of men from our accountancy firm wanting to chat me up. I couldn't give a stuff, to be honest!

So, Mike and I carried on, although it got turbulent. He told me one night, I don't want you to lose any more weight.
Why? I asked.
Because you will leave me and find another man. And I love you so much.
Wake-up words, eh? Were they controlling, or were they genuine?

I actually think they were genuine, knowing how kind and caring he was...

So, I became a size 10 and Mike and I lasted for a further 18 months, during which time, I was unfaithful to him. Kisses only, I hasten to sex. We went our separate ways and I found Anal, as I prefer to call him these days.

From the first week Anal told me I could 'put on a stone or lose a stone'. If I deviated, I would be dumped. For a very odd reason, I didn't want us to split up - probably it was my material instincts kicking in, and the fact that he had a jolly nice home (which I had to clean) was better than the digs I suffered.

But these words kicked off the most mordant thoughts in me and sooner or later, I was unable to eat, think, cope and paranoia set in.

That's all I want to say for today as I am getting too wussy for words....


Karen ^..^ said...

There is no other way to describe the birth of pure evil as brilliantly than you did in this post. Emotional abuse is doled out so casually by those who claim to love us. What else is a ten year old supposed to beleive??? You can't beleive at that age that your mother is a stupid ignorant cow. (even though she was) When the one person who is supposed to be our ultimate teacher and mentor tells us something about ourselves, we learn it, beleive it, never stop beleiving it. It takes sometimes a lifetime to unlearn it, yet at times along the way we have the enormous misfortune to come across drunken fuckwads who validate that evil taught to us so long ago, then come across men who claim to love us, to further validate that evil, and soon enough, the fragile human psyche reverts back to that tender age of ten, beleiving all of what has been said. We then punish ourselves, wasting away to nothing in a bleak effort to control SOMETHING in our out of control minds.

I think this blog is absolutely brilliant and necessary. My sister suffered from this disorder, and weakened her heart. Thank you for this, and I will promote it from my blog. Your writing is brilliant as always.

Mars said...

this is an intersting read and will bookmark it for further reading.

i probably would turn anorexic if it wasnt for the fact that i love food too much. but yes, men who mention your weight should be dropped like a rotten tomato.

Agnes Mildew said...

Karen: I am utterly gob-smacked that the blog was found! I was so shocked this morning to discover these two comments. Last night, in a fit of anxiety and embarassment, I deleted the link from HME.

Emotional abuse is often metered out casually, isn't it? I am still toiling with my emotions over my Mother - who now hasn't spoken to me since November, when I got engaged to Ian.

Thank you for your lovely words and compliments. And it pained me to read about your sister. The physical side-effects are now starting with me - from palpitations, to problems walking, to gastric upsets. Every day seems to get harder, sometimes...

Mars: Thank you for your visit. And thanks for bookmarking it.
And I am glad you enjoy your grub! Long may it last!!