Anorexia: (n) a loss of appetite for food which becomes a medical condition.
I am ill-suited to speak on this subject, similar to a cannibal discussing recipes with Martha Stewart.
I have never abstained from food. I don’t over-eat–it’s just that the idea of food is very pleasant to me, even though sometimes in the middle of chewing it, I realize that I’m getting little pleasure and positive reinforcement out of an experience that has the ability to levy great difficulty to my well-being.
I don’t know what causes anorexia. I’ve read about it. I’ve talked to people who suffer under the condition.
Matter of fact, there are times that I feel embarrassed to be in the presence of someone afflicted with the condition, because my heft might accidentally confirm their fears just through my visuals.
Unlike the anorexic, I am always looking for a mirror that favors me rather than one that points out a little “dab of flab.” I am always justifying the calorie count on some food I desire, to make it seem that it is either healthy or within the spectrum for acceptable consumption.
But I do know this–I do not grow impatient with those who find themselves oppressed by this mindset.
Because I have been around individuals who cannot fathom why I don’t “just eat less” or do something to lose weight, I understand that intolerance is unbearable. It makes me want to run and smooch with the nearest bratwurst.
Even though we do not have the cure for all diseases, and do not comprehend the whys and wherefores of every human foible, we can have the first fruits of compassion.
Anorexia is difficult for me because I find the gaunt boniness frightening and anti-human. But I must realize that the anorexic finds my obesity equally as obtuse and ugly.
Perhaps that’s the secret: to refuse to allow oneself the oversimplification of believing that what one thinks is really the truth … but always allowing for love and tenderness to surpass mere reasoning.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix