Whatever happened to the good ole days of quiet, hidden, eating disorders?  Remember those?  People would just look waaaay too skinny, and you’d wonder, but they seemed so healthy and lively that you’d dismiss it.  Remember those days?

Bryan and I went to Mullins the other night and watched some adolescent girl dine with her grandmother and (presumably) her grandmother’s friend.  The girl was already being snotty in general when we arrived, so I sat there, loathing her use of my air, when the waitress appeared with a piece of chocolate meringue pie.

“It’s about time she brought my cake,” the girl said. (At which point, I had to be physically restrained.)

The girl wasted no time in shoveling the chocolate pie in her mouth, when her grandmother kindly said, “I’m surprised you ordered a meringue, knowing that there’s eggs in there.”

And the girl slammed down her fork and pushed the plate away.  “HOW COULD YOU LET ME ORDER THAT?!” she whined loudly enough that we could’ve heard her at our house.  “YOU KNOW ABOUT MY WEIGHT.  EGGS WILL SABOTAGE MY WEIGHT.”

Um, yeah, cause the chocolate is a food group, after all.

“I’m so fat,” she began whining.  “I can’t eat ANYTHING.”  Let me just remark here that she had a half eaten plate of fried foods and macaroni in front of her.  And, to be quite honest, she looked like she had already beaten anorexia, anorexia had raised the white flag and begged for mercy, and she had just kept pounding those donuts down to keep the anorexia quiet.

Now, I have had issues with food and weight since I hit puberty.  You will occasionally read here that I went and worked out, or I was too busy and skipped meals yesterday.  But I don’t proclaim that I have an eating disorder.  It is not a badge I wear proudly.  And true anorexics and bullemists (are they words? I don’t know) don’t either.  So why can’t today’s youth grasp that?

If you’re going to kill yourself, fine.  It’s America.  Hand the Krispie Kremes over to me, and I will gladly remove that temptation for you.  But for God’s sake, don’t make the rest of us listen to your sniveling that the eggs in a slice of chocolate meringue will ruin your dreams to become America’s Next Top Model.  Instead of bemoaning the pie, invest in a blog and a mirror, and do what all the respectable people do.. do your bitching online.

 

You know it’s been FRICKIN cold in Huntsville when I wake up to feed the dogs, go outside, and think, “Man, I don’t even need to wear a coat today.”  Then you drive to work and see that the temperature outside is 34 degrees.  And no, you did not wear a coat.