Monday, August 9, 2010

Demon Spawn

Just escaped to my room from a massive fight about the big D. What could D stand for? Douchebag? Dickfucker? Damnrightannoying? DON’T-fucking-like-you? Yes, these are all true. But a more accurate description of the Devil’s Mistress I am speaking of is Dietitian. *blegh* that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Yes, the oh-so-thoughtful Parents have now decided that the next gift of love and support for my recovery they will give me (read: ATTACK me with), is weekly meetings with a Dietitian.

The Way THEY See It: THEY are not sure whether I am maintaining my weight and keeping up with my meal plan. THEY believe that I am, but THEY do not want to always be worried about it. Therefore, THEY would like me to go to someone as a “backup” that will weigh me and make sure that I am following my meal plan. So that THEY can trust me more.

The Way I See It: I would be going to this Dickfucker to please THEM. A Demon Food Lady is not going to tell me anything that I don’t already know. I know how much a serving of pasta is. I know that I should have three servings of dairy a day. I know that I should eat more if I’m working out. I know everything. Having another Damnfucking Preppy Freak tell me all of these things is not going to HELP me. I will still do whatever I am going to do.

And so when I told the parents that I wouldn’t really be learning anything new from the Dietician, that I KNOW when I am keeping up with my meal plan or not, and that I would basically be going to please THEM...well, THEY weren’t happy with that. Because people who are trying to recover from anorexia SHOULD want to go see a Dietician. Because when I tell them that I am doing it FOR THEM, then I am just bargaining with my anorexia so I can still keep it.


And so it makes it rather difficult to be a rational person and convince them that I am doing well and following through with Dicksucking Procedures as outlined by the Treatment Overlords when I want to throw something LARGE and HEAVY at their simpering faces.

How am I going to work my way out of this one? God damnit am I really just making things more difficult for myself? Should I just pretend to be happy about this? FUCK.


P.S. I apologize for my excessive references to the penis. If anyone is offended by the words Dick or Balls, they should probably stop reading my blog. Like, right now.


Ahhh, I feel slightly better now ☺


  1. Ahaha...I love the pic of your dietitian!

    I hate it when parents think they "know what's best for you" or they're just "doing you a lovely little favor" when they're just really making things worse. I don't know what it's like having parents force me to follow a meal plan or see a dietitian, but I can only imagine how that must suck for you ><.

    And I HATE it when my people are all like, "You're only doing this because..." or "You think this because of such and such." That makes me so mad because they DON'T know what I'm thinking or my reasons behind doing things.

    I totally agree with you- nobody really knows what's going on in our head or what it's like in our mind so they shouldn't tell us why we think certain things and do the things we do.

    I love the titles you give people and things, like "Overlord," "Ball Garggling," and "Dicksucking"...that always makes me laugh =). And hey, if you want to throw something large and heavy, by all means, do!

    If I was ever faced with a dietitian or parents always on my case about food, I would try to smile, nod at the appropriate times, and pretend everything is perfect until they leave me alone...but you've probably already tried that...

  2. LOL @ dietician pic...


    But you know they're kind of right, eh?

    You are bargaining with your anorexia so you can keep it.

    You're playing both sides of the coin right now, you want to lose weight and stay in college.

    You want your parents to believe that you are healthy enough to be in college, yet at the same time your actual goal is far from healthy enough to stay in college.

    Your parents don't want you to die. Does that make sense? I mean, I read all these blogs and there's all this *indignant rage* towards what is perceived as meddling and ignorant fumbling which is of no use and is completely unwelcome...

    But the truth is that those meddlers want to keep you alive and watching you dwindle into a black void of bones and nothingness is not their idea of a good time.

    And it wouldn't be yours either, if you were in their shoes.

    So breathe. Take a deep, open breath.

    Understand that the dietician is your parent's safety net, the person who will take your pulse and confirm that for today the child they love is not half in her grave.

    Understand that what you are asking them to do is to not give a fuck whether you live or die.

    Can they do that? Would you want them to do that?

  3. hahaa, you make me laugh :) I loved the last bit of this post.

    Maybe you could see the dietician a few times and make it seem as though you are following her plan. And then when your parents find out how well you are doing maybe they'll stop the dietician. It could work, maybe...

    It would bug me too SO MUCH if my parents were trying to control this. Luckily, for now, it's a big secret.

    Love, B x

  4. That completely sucks. I would be so pissed at my parents too. Is there any way you can tell your parents that you already know everything that the dietitian will tell you?

    I hope it all works out! Love ya :)

  5. Watch out you are in a warzone! How do your parents know what someone with anorexia should want to do? I get really frustrated with things like that. The actual wording should be "someone with anorexia would possibly benifit from seeing a dietician" but they would still be wrong, because people with anorexia know it all already, like you said. I actually just hate the conditional tense despite having just used it. I DESPISE the conditional past.

    Lola, if you had controlled your fears in other ways, this would not have happened.

    Yes, ok, SMARTARSES, but it ISN'T going to happen and you know that so WHAT is the point of rubbing it in my face

    But that is another rant

    I dont know what to suggest. Tell them to save their money and if they really want to help you they need to help you want to help yourself. Because otherwise it is pointless, right?

    I love you Rose, sorry this wasn't a more productive read for you!! xx

  6. I hate when people TELL me what to do and try to keep an eye on me. I would act like a sullen pre-teen and slam doors ahahaha!

  7. Have you ever noticed that alot of dieticians and nutritionists are actually overweight? Or that they used to be HUGE and FAT and lost a ton of weight? I am seeing a pattern. It's a travesty to have a fatty tell you how you should be eating. They should probably be taking some pointers from us, now shouldn't they? Stand your ground, sweetie. xoxo

  8. The support street goes both ways, eh? I'm glad I can return the favor. Nice to facebook meet you, too, btw. ;)

  9. Stay strong! My parents forced me to go to a nutritionist last year and that lasted only a few visits. So maybe if you go a few times and it seems like your doing well then mayb they will trust you and not make you go again. Who knows though:/ good luck! I really enjoy reading your blog

  10. I think I love you XD

    You should totally lecture the dietitian about all the stuff you know. The health stuff, not the ED stuff. I'm sure you know more than her XD


    okkkaaay, one more time, here we go.

    I'm not gonna unfollow you girl. No need.

    The EDs of others don't trigger me. I'm oddly self-contained that way. If the EDs of my friends triggered me to the point where I couldn't make any decisions other than ED centric ones, I'd have been dead in my teens. All my close female friends had EDs then, and I think still do.

    There's a punk song with a chorus that goes, "I don't fucking care what the fuck they say, I do what I want any fucking way." That pretty much sums me up in a nutshell.

    I do what I want. Good or bad, I choose what I want to do and then I do it, and no one else can make me do otherwise.

    I want to kick this habit, and I will.

    I quit smoking, drinking, myself, with just the support and love of my friends. This will be like that: a bloody pain in the ass, but not impossible.

    An ED is just an addiction (don't forget that addiction is a psychological illness as well as a physical dependency) and addictions are a scaffold of habits and behaviors that are coping mechanisms designed to hide and protect the individual from things outside or things inside.

    I'm choosing to unscaffold. The things which I am shielding myself from have already been looked at in the eyes, I just have to get myself in a place where I'm strong enough to slay the fuckers.


  12. Daaaaaymm, that hairnet is sex-aaaay!!

    Indeed, hey have no idea whats going on inside. SO WHAT THE FUCK MAKES THEM THINK THEY CAN FIX IT!!! All they give a shit about is getting paid. Honestly. ARGH!! FUCK!!

    Hmmm, one bright side: You can get an education in nutrition without going to university and wasting time in exam halls :D (There HAS to be an upside to this shit, right?)

    My shotgun is cocked, Augustine is making sure the grass is kept carpet-smooth for our bare feet on Wonder Isles.