SEX I

A discussion of body image cannot exclude sex. While sexual research and surveys indicate that the best sex takes place in one’s mind, arguments can be made that the body can be a worthwhile tool for the mind to exploit during such intimate (or not so intimate) encounters.

Sex – as an act - has always been uncomfortable for me because of my body image issues. I am interested in it – indeed, I think about it quite a bit, and have tried to enjoy it as best I could. Unfortunately, no matter how much the effort, I consistently have difficulty in immersing myself within the sexual moment. My mind always wanders, retracts, scrambles, lunges and quickens to my body, and thoughts inevitably and pervasively hinge on self-judgment. At the beginning of my sexual relationships, thoughts were strongly laden with criticisms centered on internalized homophobia. In time, they gradually developed into a caustic duet of anti-gay rhetoric and adjudications on how poor my body looked in comparison to the man next to me. I clearly recall how often I would stare at my “boyfriend’s” body and yearn for the hardness of his muscles, and the toned quality of the skin that covered his stomach, chest, arms and legs. I feel that my body is huge and soft – Raphaelesque in its plumpness and tenderness. Not at all like the muscular and fit bodies that I am attracted to, and who have at times slept next to me.

Intellectually, I can reason on ways to convince my eyes to perceive my body as being something other than the soft huge creature my mind often impresses the eyes to reflect. These are difficult moments because there is the healthy voice that endeavors to affiliate itself with reason and see what is really there, and then there is the familiar voice that habitually sides with dysfunction. Habit often wins out, but happily not as frequently these days.

Can anyone relate?

Stay well, MBI

This Morning

This morning was very difficult. I woke up to attend the gym, but felt really miserable once I looked in the mirror and saw my reflection. I looked very bloated and fat. I could not see nay definition in my arms and chest and believed that I gained a massive amount of weight and flesh overnight. An impossibility – I know – but I felt and thought it all the same. I could not bear to look at myself in the mirror – and yet could not look away either. I was compelled to stay in front of it and point out every physical detail. With every minute I stared, I picked out yet another aspect of my body that I perceived as ugly, misshaped and not masculine.

My face look old and haggard; I had no luster in my eyes. My hair – what is left of it – was unseemly and looked as if more had fallen out overnight. I saw the blubber of my sides folding over my short pants and felt sloppy and grossly obese. I thought the skin had gotten tighter – even my trainer had commented on it a few weeks ago. Apparently, we were both seeing things that were not there. Was he lying to me? I could not stand the spectacle of my arms. They just looked like lumps of bloated appendages with unsightly and unmanly stretch marks. My chest looked like massive mams rather than the hard pecs that I was working so hard to achieve. How could this all be happening at the same time???

I had to change my shirt three times before I actually left the house. The previous two shirts made me feel huge. As I walked to the gym, I felt as if all eyes were staring at me, critically noting my body and making quick comparisons on how their body was superior to mine. I knew from experience that this was not the best frame of mind to attend the gym. In the past, I would take such mental vehemence and turn it into physical exhaustion by working out in a very unhealthy manner. This morning, I tried to reign in my thoughts and bring in some of the reasoning I knew would place things in a better perspective.

I reasoned to myself that my body is not as bad as I think it is. My issues often exaggerate what is being actually perceived. I thought about the times when I liked the way my body was looking (rare – in know – but it happens) and how I can feel that way again. I also explained that the body does not always feel or look the same. I could therefore be seeing the result of something that will come to pass. I repeated this to myself many times before actually reaching the gym.

For better or for worse (depending on which side you ask the reasonable me or the dysfunctional one) the reasoning worked. Although I did exercise a bit more than usual on the cardiovascular machines in an attempt to “unbloat” myself, I was able to stop before I reached an exhaustive level.

Difficult but true.

Can anyone relate??

Stay well, MBI

AUSTRALIAN STUDY

In a recent study, it was noted that Australians are more obsessed about their looks than their Asian counterparts (the link to the article is attached). The study indicated that Australian youth are seven times more likely to suffer from body image issues than Asian youth. A separate study found high rates of Body Dysmorphic Disorder (a reverse anorexia where man often believe that they have less muscles than they actually do) amongst Australian male gym users. One study attributed the body image issues to the Western world’s obsession to lookism and the value that is placed on physical attractiveness over intellectuality.

There are have been numerous studies that have compared and analyzed how different countries grapple with issues such as attraction, body image, and eating. Most of them simply validate that which the researcher already suspected – Western nations have higher rates of body image issues and eating disorders. However, interesting data is surfacing in those countries that are slowly becoming more “westernized.” As Western media and physical ideologies infiltrate the new markets so do some dysfunctional behaviors such as eating disorders and body dysmorphia. However, total blame cannot be placed on the media alone. It is a mistake to think that media is the sole contributor to the eating and body image issues affecting many women and men (young and old). Certainly, the media is an important facet but a multitude of people are exposed to the images portrayed in the media and not all that are exposed develop eating disorders and body image issues.

For example, I am certainly not into pop culture and do not surround myself in the latest tabloids featuring celebrity news. Nor do I follow any of the popular television or movies. I am quite out of the loop compared to my friends and co-workers, who often have to take five minutes out of their conversation to update me on some celebrity mishap that I haven’t a clue about. I am not at all concerned with the Hollywood scene and rarely do I ever pick up a non-academic magazine. Yet, I still have body image issues and feel the effects of the images that are posted by various media sources. Yes, media is a vital component, but so are familial background, personal experiences, genetics and early relationships with people, food and objects. Each facet will give an indication as to how a person has come to relate with the external world and how they have come to perceive and relate to themselves.

What are your thoughts? I would really like to know.

Stay well, MBI

PRIDE PARADE

Gay Pride is this Sunday, and while I attend the parade festivities each year, I still have some anxiety prior to making the decision to actually go. The anxiety stems from the fact that I will be surrounded by male bodies I find attractive but yet elusive and intimidating. I am afraid of going to a place of judgment and ultimately feeling depressed. In the past, I’ve acknowledged the bodies and have tried to deny my attraction to them. I have centered on some perceived superficiality on their part, so to lessen the totality of their superiority, and thereby protect my uneven position. As I become better acquainted with my own feelings, these techniques don’t function as well as they used to. At present, I acknowledge my attraction, try to tolerate the feelings of inferiority that creep up, but I try not to ponder on the comparative analysis to the point of driving myself into a depression. Instead, I try to connect with the parts of me that I find positive. This is quite a marked change – it has taken quite a while to instill.

DEPRESSION AND EATING

I have experienced depression during many periods of my life. Some bouts have been deeper than others, but they have all been quite taxing. Depression runs in my family quite a bit and I don’t dispute that the gene(s) runs strongly in me. I am quite sure that I was swerving in and out of mild and serious bouts of depression throughout my childhood and adolescence. As I mentioned in previous entries, my young years were marked by some very harrowing verbal abuse. I was the constant brunt of many jokes, pranks and taunts by school and neighborhood kids. My sexuality, weight, and overall appearance were considered a fair target for all that needed to vent their own frustration or mark their superiority. The daily dose of abuse severely hindered my ability to lead a normal childhood because the words penetrated my own self-perception and forever (at seemingly) altered the way I defined myself. I have little doubt that the abuse was a main contributor to deepening the depressive episodes and also very often led me to binge on food. Verbally assaulted and left with little esteem except for that which remained by my ability to still exceed academically, I turned to food for comfort and as a way of replenishing what ever identity I could salvage.

Today, while reality illuminates the years between the present and the abusive episodes, memories are quickly recollected whenever I pass a schoolyard, hear the yells of children as they pass by, or listen to the recount of other abusive experiences. I am also still prone to depression and guard against falling into deeper holes. I can easily turn to food whenever I feel down, and while the food does not provide the comfort it once did, I notice how behavioral habits are hard to break even when their effect is no longer felt. When I am feeling down I open my refrigerator over 40 times in a three hour period (I know – I counted). Even as I go toward the refrigerator I know that I will not get any food, but the mere act provides some “creature” comfort. The action connects me with the past but it also demonstrates my present growth – there isn’t the need to actually eat each time I go to the refrigerator.

Can anyone relate? I would love to hear from you.

Stay well, MBI

FOOD VII - CHEWING AND SPITTING CONTINUED

I reasoned that the chewing and spitting technique was what I used so to not take in calories and fat, but it was something much deeper than that. It had to be, because it was too harsh of a method and it was felt too viscerally not to be connected with my emotions. With the help of therapy, I started noticing that I turned to the foods that would then prompt chewing and spitting behavior when I was being taxed or positively excited at work, school or in my personal relationships. By stuffing my mouth with three or four chocolate bars, chewing until each piece was broken down and I tasted the hot swirled mixture of chocolate and caramel in my mouth, swallowing a bit of it, and then spitting out the rest into a napkin, I was relieving the anxiety triggered by whatever incident had arisen. The chewing and spitting was the way I chose to communicate the intensity of my anxious feelings.

Let me explain further: An incident occurs such as a positive acknowledgement at work and school. While I am grateful for the attention and appreciate the feedback, I am also frightened by it. Feelings of success and happiness are unfamiliar. They are not the typical emotions that I have been surrounded by for much of my life. Although I strive to integrate them within my daily existence and have them become more permanent fixtures in my emotional repertoire, I am nonetheless overwhelmed and confused when they do arise. Taken by these thoughts, I am no longer walking on solid secure ground. Instead, the world swirls around me as if I was living a surreal existence. A concoction of anxiety and excitement builds within me, but it is subdued and simultaneously overpowered by a foreshadowed doom. Dark feelings tinged with expectation start to permeate every thought. To ease my mind, I turn to comfort food and stuff my mouth with whatever sweet chocolate pieces I can find. Chewing the chocolate gives me a sense of relief, some control, and uneasily – some pleasure. As I chew the sweets, I think about the triggers. I can still feel the anxiety that the triggers cause, but now I am at a safe distance. As I chew, I begin to realize just how much I have stuffed in my mouth, and immediately, as if on automatic pilot, my mind calculates the possible fat and calories my mouthful contains. I start to stress at the high number the calculation has yielded. At the same time, pangs of guilt make their presence. I start blaming myself for turning to chewing and spitting as a way of coping with the overwhelming feelings rather than being strong enough to handle the triggers as they come up. I feel guilty for wasting food, since I know deep down I will not be swallowing all of it. Once the inside of my mouth is coated with enough melted chocolate, I am ready to swallow. . .a bit. Swallowing relieves the guilt I feel for the act of spitting it out. Swallowing also symbolically allows me to take in the feelings triggered by the episode in a manner that I am more comfortable with. It makes me acknowledge that I am strong enough to handle the incident, its feelings and all the underlying triggers associated with the past. Once I have swallowed a bit, I am ready to quickly spit out the rest into a napkin. This act is symbolic of the inability to fully integrate with the feelings engaged by the incident. It brings me back to reality again. My connection with guilt resumes.

Of course all of this has only become clear to me through years of internal reflection and therapy.

Does anyone relate?

Stay well, MBI

FOOD VI – CHEWING AND SPITTING

A phenomenon that is being spoken of with more frequency with the eating disorder community is chewing and spitting (C&S). I started to C&S during the period of time when I was not restricting as much of my intake of food. I was still exercising but had had made some progress with the “restricting” factor. Due to my work in therapy, I had started to understand the links between the restrictive episodes and the emotional incidence that would trigger them. Slowly, but ever progressively, I noticed that I was eating with greater frequency. I did not turn to restricting for modulating and communicating my internal and emotional state. Rather, I started to articulate what I was feeling in words (instead of food). This was a very slow process; whenever there were improvements with food, I would make up the “slack” by increasing my exercise. Therefore, running and weight training became the vehicle for navigating my internal emotional strife. C&S was the natural reaction to my ability to move away from the excessiveness of exercise.

To clarify what I mean by chewing and spitting - I would chew a chocolate bar, allow some of it to be swallowed and then spit out the rest into a napkin. I calculated that this behavior would give me some of the sweets that I craved but not the calories or fat that I was so frightened to gain. I wanted to swallow some of the sweet food because I thought it was important for the maintenance of my endocrine system. I reasoned that the process of chewing a sweet food was already signaling the body to produce insulin. Had I spit out the entirely of the sweet that I was chewing, the body would produce insulin in excess because it would not be utilized in digesting and synthesizing the spit out food. Consequently, by swallowing a bit of it I was allowing the body to function in a somewhat “normal” capacity.

I am painfully aware of how calculated this reasoning is and also how I have difficulty in referring to the body as “mine” - in the possessive tense. That is one of the barriers that I continue to have from time to time – connecting with my own body; a sense of being integrated in body, mind, and emotions. I never chewed and spit out food that I deemed was important or real, such as chicken, vegetables, complex carbohydrates etc. The chewing and spitting was restricted (no pun intended) to the sweets – those foods/snacks that I thought were superfluous to what I really needed, by yet craved. I turned to those foods, as many others do, when I needed comfort or a sense of grounding. Chocolate, cakes, candy bars, ice cream and chips provided (and still do- but to a much smaller extent) a sense of comfort at a time when I despaired about what life was presenting me. These foods were also a connection to the past. They were the food of choice in days of overeating. They gave me some peace in my isolation and confusion. As I lessened the restricting behavior and exercised with greater moderation, I became more anxious about putting on weight from these types of “comfort” foods. They no longer provided me the grounding or consolation they did in the past when other mechanisms such as excessive exercise could buffer the anxiety about eating them in the first place. The only way those foods could continue to maintain their role in providing relief would be to chew (swallow some) and spit out the rest.

More on this tomorrow.

Can anyone relate? I would really like to know.

Stay well, MBI

ATTRACTION & THOUGHTS II

The need to constantly compare is compulsively strong. I am always feeling as if I need to assess my body as it looks against another man’s body – most especially of those bodies I am most attracted to. There is a mind game that takes place between the healthy part of me and that which I have labeled the dysfunctional part. They battle between what is seemingly positive thinking (leaving me feeling okay about myself) and that which I know will only lead to more heartache and low esteem. I cannot seem to avoid the slippery slope especially when I am around a man who I have judged to possess a nice body. There is an automatic trigger that makes me center and obsess on him. I start to mentally calculate his muscularity, tone and overall appearance. I don't give him a score - it isn't anything so analytical or mathematical. Rather, I immediately am able to mentally hold an image of him in my mind and use that figure as a point of comparison with the representation I have of my own body. Many friends have told me that the image I hold of myself is skewed and intellectually I can certainly understand it but I am unable to fully carry it through so as to stop the mental process of comparison. In focusing on the good body of a man - I have a tendency of staring but will try to do so without the person knowing it. Usually the process happens intermittently as I pretend to look elsewhere. I am studying every thing about the guy - his chest, legs, arms, face, and package. My gaze attempts to drink him in – as if to internalize him so that he will always be a part of me; that he is me in some way and I him. By mentally possessing the image in my mind I feel a part of the all male club that I have always been excluded from. Of course, intellectually I am painfully aware that this very act of scrutiny all the more excludes me because with every ounce of my energy I use to study them, I am building a greater barrier between them and me. I am feeling more and more as the "other". By placing so much attention on the beautiful body, I am casting my own body aside and making it insignificant.

As I progress up my 30s, I wonder how much physical improvement I can expect. Am I foolish to think that I will have a nice body . . . one day? Here I am working so very had to achieve the (perhaps) unachievable. Is it hope that keeps me exercising with such disciplined vigor, foolishness, or dysfunction? I have an inclination that it is a combination of all three. Yet, I persevere.

So much emphasis is placed on sex and bodily satisfaction, I feel quite divorced from the whole system. The issues I have about my body keep me from freely engaging in sexual activity. Other gay men I know readily partake in casual sexual encounters. I don’t. I know they are not acting in responsibly or healthy (physical and emotionally), but I readily admit that physical contact is important. I know its missing from my life and I greatly yearn for it. The emphasis placed on physical beauty and the way in which I have grasped on to that idealization makes me believe that sex can only be enjoyed by the young and beautiful. Intellectually I know this not to be the case, but I am often so affected by the concept that it becomes difficult to imagine otherwise. I am always caught in this bind of false realizations. One being that youth is behind me and so is the chance for a meaningful relationship. I did not fully take advantage of my youth and now those days and the opportunities they may have presented are gone. In youth, I was too closed, confused, scared and bewildered to all that was around me. I did not know how to navigate the waters of my sexuality and so I denied and suppressed a great deal of any evident sexual maturation. I did not want to connect with any of those feelings. Doing so would only bring me closer to a part of the self that I could not yet tolerate or fully observe.

There is so much more on this topic to write. I will do so in later entries.

Can anyone relate? I would really like to hear from you.

Stay well, MBI

ATTRACTION & THOUGHTS

As I previously mentioned, nothing fully prepared me for the inferiority I felt (and continue to feel – to some extent) when comparing myself to other men within the gay community. I am incessantly comparing myself to other men and feel as if I never measure up to those whose bodies are more toned, muscular and athletic. Emotions such as despair, anger, regret, sadness, and jealousy well up, drown me and also make it sometimes impossible to keep any clear perspective. When I see a good looking man, I immediately turn inward – reflect and come out feeling deflated. Thoughts are riddled and center themselves on how good the other guy looks and how I am inferior in every way. My thinking patterns of being “less than” the masculine men I am always comparing myself to have the tendency of taking me out of the “male” category and placing me into that of “female.” No – I don’t believe females are “less than” – I am just trying to elaborate on how the thinking process often undresses me, berates and scolds me physically, and ends almost but not quite emasculating me. I often feel not worthy enough to be considered a man.

The exaggerated emphasis the gay world places on have a toned and athletic body makes me feel as if I am always playing a game of “catch up.” I never feel entirely at the same level as another. Just when I feel as if I have made certain advancements in looking better, I am struck by another guy’s “perfection” and am thrust once again into a depressing abyss. The feelings of inferiority about my body often inhibit my ability to fully interact with gay men. Let me explain – while I am able to talk to them and carry on some level of interaction, I am acutely aware of their superior looks and am constantly having to dodge the harangues of inferior thoughts that are popping through my mind. I go to a place of self-judgment and it has me feeling depressed. This does not have to necessarily happen only during direct interactions. The thought process may occur when preparing to attend an event when I know other gay men will be. It seems that I have to prepare my mind with defenses against the onslaught of my own judgments. What is worse than feeling inadequate, is that I will also feel attracted to those guys that I feel are physically superior. This attraction stirs shame, turns me on and also causes internal anger. The shame stems from my internalized homophobia. The sexual turn originates from my natural feelings of attraction. And the anger is a result of being turned on by features that I believe are completely alien to my own physique. My attraction to toned and muscular bodies – I believe all the more validates my feelings of inferiority to not have one.

More on this tomorrow.

Can anyone relate? I would really like to know.

Stay well, MBI

FOOD V

After the crash diet experienced in my late teens, I spent a few years fluctuating in weight. I would lose some pounds and then gain some of them back. However, I made certain to not return to the 280 pounds I was during my early teens - my exercise routine also helped with that endeavor. However, it was the "coming out" process and all that embroils with self, others and community - that drastically changed my relationship to food . . and exercise.

I thought acknowlegding my homosexuality would in fact give me some internal peace, which would subsequently place me in a better place mentally and emotionally. I thought my erratic relationshp with food was due to my being "closeted." I had binged to offset the gay related bullying, and to achieve some mode of acceptance. I dieted to offset the damage of the bullying, to both acknowledge my budding sexuality and to reign it in, and to reclaim acceptance societally and familialy. Coming out did not give me the peace I had so thought to obtain. Yes, I was happy to finally reach some level of self-acceptance, but I was not prepared for the flood of emotions that drowned me at every new turn.

At first, I did not come out to any family members. Therefore, holding that secret created a great deal of anxiety and also made me painfully aware that as long as I kept an important part of my life a secret, I could never fully obtain the acceptance I desired. I was used to not communicating with my parents, but now I was aware of just how much I was not sharing with them. Before - when I was hiding from myself - I too was in the dark with just how much I was not acknowledging. I turned to the gay community for help and with finding some kind of extended family, but I did not find would sought. Yes, I did find different brochures and certain small seminar like structures that explained what would be encountered in the coming out process, but nothing prepared me for the strict codes of "lookism" I was to observe.

Since I had always been so afraid to accept my being gay, I did everything possible to avoid that sector of the community. I never ventured anywhere "gay" related, nor did I get close to any of the gay people I worked with. I could not be seen with them because that would implicate me (so I thought). Therefore, when I came out and ventured into the gay "getto" I was shocked as to how similar many of the gay men looked. I realized very quickly that muscles, a toned body, and a sculpted face were top attractiveness points. I also realized that I did not conform to the standard in any way. It was this realization that exacerbated feelings of physical inadequacy. I was angry for not fitting in by looking like what was being propogated as attractive, but I was angrier still that I was attracted to what was being billed as so. The inner tension of being attracted to the celebrated look and of not looking that way caused incredible emotional turmoil. I was filled with anger, sadness, confusion, hostility and anxiety. I did not know how to relate to all these feelings, and I certainly did not know how to identify or communicate them to anyone - even my own therapist at the time. Consequently, I turned to the only communicative method I knew - food and exercise. By retricting the food, I would moderate the ebbs and flows of my erratic emotional state. The restiction of food and the increase in exercise helped me navigate all the emotions that welled up from my interactions with the gay community and gay men and they helped me deal with all the feelings that came in from the past. I recall how restricting food and actually feeling the pangs of hunger seemed to quench this internal frenzy. The pangs for food quieted the anger the gnawed me internally. The anger that was still not fully expressed for being teased and beaten as a child and adeolescent. The anger for the years of an unfulfilled childhood. As those feelings were triggered from incidences around me or by remembrances - I restricted more food and or increaed the amount of exercise.

I realize this entry was quite intense. If you should have any questions - I would love to hear from you.

stay well, MBI

FOOD IV

As I mentioned in my previous entry, food had become a close ally in my need to build a fortress from all those that tried very hard to break me. Indeed, I binged in a sub-conscious effort to not feel the total destruction that the verbal and physical antics of both children and adults had on my life. Each time I needed comfort in those hours of despair, I turned to food - my own reliable companion. I did not have close friends - most took part in calling me fag at one time or another. So they could not be trusted. I could not turn to teachers. They witnessed what I was going through. They saw how how many times during the day I would be taunted by other kids and even some adults - but they did nothing. I could not turn to my family because of the shame connected to what others were saying. I was also scared that they would blame me or not take my experience seriously. Therefore food became my arbiter - I learned to communicate through it. Instead of verbalizing my anger and pain - I ate food. The overeating also had an additional benefit; kids now called me "fat" instead of "fag." At least being called "fat" I could understand - it was noticeable and in the moment. The other names related to sexuality; it hurt but I could not so readily or easily understand it.

I continued to constantly binge until my late teens. In retrospect, I am quite amazed that I survived the experience without turning violent on myself or/and others. I did have suicidal thoughts but luckily I was either (or both) too neurotic or scared to go through with it. I came close several times - though. Imagine the state I was in to fantasize and plan out my death. The level of despair was great (but I will write more about that in a different entry).

At age 16, I weighed 280 pounds and decided to go on a crash diet. I had used food for over a decade as a way to quiet the internal storms that were being triggered by various physical, emotional and environmental factors. It had worked . . . for a while. As with any "good" thing, it did not last forever. The verbal abuse directed at my weight started to increse as I put on more and more pounds. The guys in school ( I attended an all boy school) were being really cruel. Not only were they calling me names like "pig", "hog", "fatso" etc., but they were starting to draw pictures of me in ugly characterizations. My parents and their friends were also starting to comment on my weight. It seemed that I had crossed the boundary of when eating was not considered a good thing anymore. These negatives and an emerging sexual curiosity gave me the incentive to go on the strict crash diet. Food was to now be an enemy. My long dear friend who accompanied me through many lonely journies through vastly depressing moments was to be turned away. How was I to deal with all my feelings if food was not going be the comfortable source? I was to use the restriction of food as the conrol mechanism for all the feelings that I could not yet process. By not taking in food - I was not taking in the names and bullying being hurled at me. The lessening of food and the increase in exercise was going to mediate the budding feelings of attraction I had for the same sex. As I became attracted to some of the guys around me - I exercised or restricted my intake of food more. I did not want to fully take in the fact that I was having those types of feelings for guys. That would validate the abusers. I also thought in having those feelings that the abusers had a right to call me those names. Remember - all this processing occurred on a sub-consious level. I only discovered these things after years of self analysis and therapy.

My relationship with food and with exercise hit even stronger levels as I acknowledged more and more certain parts of the self.


Does this resonate for anyone? I would really like to know.

Stay well, MBI

FOOD III

The appetite stimulants my parent gave me did in fact increase my appetite and I received a lot of positive acknowledgment from them because of it. They didn’t shower me with compliments, but rather the tension during dinner and bedtime ended. Unfortunately the increase in appetite coincided with verbal (and sometimes physical) abuse I was enduring in school. I was being teased every day for being gay. Although I didn’t explicitly state that I was gay, I was labeled as being gay by all the other kids (and some teachers) in my school and neighborhood. Children and adults can be quite cruel. I did not fit into the role expected of a young boy. I was not athletic, did not enjoy sports, and was never into other “boy” associated activities. I usually liked to read, create and hang with adults. My gender non-conformity subjected me to hours, days, months, and years of taunting words from ignorant children and even more ignorant adults. The bullying was horrific and it became the new “hell” (the old “hell” being meal times and bedtime) I had to learn to endure. Every school day became a nightmare as kids, some of whom I thought were my friends, ganged up and teased me for something that I did not fully understand. The shame and stigma embedded with being called “faggot”, “gaylord”, and “sissy” kept me from disclosing the torment I was undergoing. I couldn’t bear to state to anyone out loud that I was being called a fag in school. I didn’t want those words to come out of my mouth – doing so would seem to make them all the more a reality and would somehow validate them. I also thought family members would be ashamed of me and would hate having me be a part of their bloodline. Even though I spent many hours in my room crying and coming home with bruises, my parents never knew what was going on. They were oblivious to it –done in a conscious or sub-conscious manner – I don’t know.

I began to enmesh with food the hurt suffered from the bullying and physical abuse. Since I had gotten positive feedback from my parents for eating more, I subconsciously connected overeating with the submergence of anger, confusion and pain. Food was to anesthetize the sting of the bullying words. A few years before, the appetite stimulant kept me from tuning into my real hunger needs by sending out synthetic signals to eat. Now, food was to keep me from integrating and processing the hurt and confusion associated with the bullying. I would remain a “good boy” by eating a lot and by keeping my school grades high, and most importantly I would not fight back. Needless to say, the food was a good strategy in the short-term because it allowed me to remain intact and functioning as the bullying was slowly annihilating my esteem and ego. While I excelled in my studies, I remained inert in every other facet of my life. By the time I had reached mid adolescence, I was almost one hundred pounds overweight, never engaged in any physical activity and had sub-consciously placed myself into being sexually inert. I remember eating so much food when I was alone. I was the classic closet eater because most of my binges occurred when I was alone – either on weekends or right after I would come home from school. I would love having huge sandwiches, Chinese takeaways, chips, soda and any kinds cakes and candy. I would plan and fantasize about the meal I would eat. Thinking about the food and the manner in which I would eat it, calmed all the emotions that welled up but nonetheless remained unregistered. By that I mean, that the feelings were felt but on a superficial level. I never allowed them to fully penetrate; I always remained a few steps ahead of the sadness and total feeling of abandon. Binging on food was a way of calming all the fury that was going on inside. When I would feel erratic and out of control because of what was triggered during my day, I would turn to food to quiet and steady my nerves. It would return (at least for a short time) a sense of equilibrium. While the binge was unhealthy in the long term, it was a true savior in the short-term because it provided what my environment could not – some semblance of control (more on this in later entries).

Can anyone relate? I would really like to know.

More food sequence will follow.

Stay well,

MBI

FOOD II

As I briefly wrote on May 28, I have long had a dysfunctional relationship with food. In young childhood (years 3 through 6) I ate very little and appeared quite thin. I did in fact eat, but I was picky with the foods I liked and did not eat very much of any one thing. I remember family meal times were a nightmare because my parents would spend the majority of the time complaining about my poor eating habits (not eating all of the food they prepared). My finicky eating pattern was an extreme offense to them. They took it personally – as a sign of poor parenting or something far worse (at least in the Italian culture – bad cooking. Meal times usually ended with me crying due to my frustration with having to fight with my parents for not wanting to finish the food on my plate, or due to my father hitting me out of his frustration for not having a compliant son. I need to better understand whether my eating behavior was in fact trying to communicate something to my parents - some pain, hurt, or confusion that I could not yet verbalize. The self-restriction of food was the only way to I was able to maintain some sense of calm and equilibrium.

That sense of calm ended when my parents had me placed on appetite stimulants. I remember the anger I felt, as my mother would hand me the pill. I couldn’t bring myself to swallow it. It was too big and made me feel as if I was choking. The pill was often given to me at bedtime, which on its own would put me into a panic, however coupled with the pill factor – the bedtime experience became a pure hell. My parents and sister resorted to wrapping the pill in between soft pieces of bread so that it would be easier for me to swallow. Yet, I still couldn’t find the space in my throat to swallow the pill and bread. They finally resorted to getting the stimulant in liquid form. Although that eased my tension regarding the pill, the sheer “weight” of my troubles was only beginning.


Until the next time,
MBI

STRETCH MARKS

As promised: Stretch Marks.

I have some stretch marks that cut laterally across my abdomen, on my sides, underneath my upper arms and of all places, on the undersides of my knees. I really didn’t pay much attention to them until I was in my mid-twenties. They seemed to just appear out of nowhere, but I guess they are the result of my years of being quite overweight. I hate seeing them for they are reminders that I will never have the toned body that I at times so desperately try to achieve. They effeminate me for I equate them to what a pregnant woman gets from childbearing. I have spent an accumulation of hours looking at them in the mirror and have yearned to erase them from my body. There were times in fits of anger that I would pull at my skin to make it as taut as possible so that the stretch marks would seem to disappear. And there were more reasonable moments when I would place ointments on them to make them less noticeable. Now, I just try to avoid looking at them as I am undressing, changing or taking a shower. There are days when I do notice them more, especially when my body is reflected in the mirror with strong sunlight. Every flaw in my skin seems worse then, but I am at a place where I understand that to be the case, and can quickly move on to other things without torturing myself further on the issue – as I would in the past.

My dislike in seeing the stretch marks keeps me from taking off my shirt at the beach and also from wearing shirts that have shorter cut sleeves. Even though I am becoming more muscular in my upper body, I still don’t act deliberate in revealing my upper torso in public. I envy the guys that I observe who have such even skin tone. I have looked at those guys at the gym and have seen them walking down the street. I imagine the pride they must have in their bodies, and that imagined conceit drives thick walls between them and me. I feel lessened and humiliated. Feelings of emasculation start to creep up and it takes all my energy to not wallow in any self-deprecating mental jargon. I quickly move on. . ..

Friends have told me countless times that I should expose my body more – that my body isn’t as bad as I believe it is. There is a small part (and ever increasing) that believes them, but I am still hesitant. I still have to battle the internal voice, which keeps me constantly vigilant about what others are thinking about me.

My exaggerated attention to the stretch marks may have been the result of a few incidences that have occurred with a couple of men. On two separate occasions men I dated have pointed to my stretch marks and have inquired as to what they were. Although these incidences were quite a few years ago, their memory still lingers. I remember feeling the sting of their question but more so, I remember the puzzled look on their faces as they asked. I felt belittled and abnormal. I felt “markedly” different from them. Their seemingly innocent questions seem to place me in the lesser position because they had no stretch marks. Their bodies were taut and were not inflicted with any reminders of previous indulgent behaviors (i.e., overeating).

I will write more soon.

Stay well,
MBI