“Fat”--A Fate Worse Than Death: Addicted to Food and Body Image

The reflection in the mirror illuminates a grossly unattractive, unfit, fat person. One night I purge in the restroom after eating an enormous dinner with friends. Later, I sneak potato chips and cookies into my bedroom and eat both bags when everyone has gone to bed, and then carefully hide the wrappers. The next day I starve myself by ingesting only a couple hundred calories. I think constantly about my body and diet regimen. This is a story about a monster that sneaks up on the struggling princess. It covertly and subtly destroys her. It began as a diet and a battle with the mirror. Decades later she realizes who and what the monster is…and who and what her Prince is.

◄► Seventeen years old, at five feet, four inches, and 140 pounds, society labeled me “chunky.” As women, we’re vulnerable to competitive standards and comparisons. We compare ourselves all the time and come up feeling inadequate. After seeing a photo of myself I agreed, “I look like a whale! I’m going on a diet.” From that day forward I chose what I put inside my mouth. I worked towards a goal weight and lost a healthy two pounds per week.

My parents were proud of me. I was proud of me. Boys noticed me. It seemed I had power over others when they’d ask me how I managed to lose weight. Like millions of other dieters, I liked receiving compliments and praise in my search for approval and love. My soul craved acceptance. I didn’t have anything in my life I excelled at. I failed at playing a musical instrument. I didn’t date. My grades were average. I didn’t belong to the popular girls’ group…but I excelled at dieting. This kind of admiration is hard to give up. Soon my weight and number of consumed calories became my identity…and an obsession. I’d wake up each morning looking forward to manipulating that day’s diet plan. And I started smoking cigarettes in an effort to cut my appetite.

Then something snapped. Conscious of our weight, my friend and I felt miserable, physically and emotionally, after gorging on left-overs from her parent’s dinner party. She said, “I know how we can feel better and not gain any weight. Stick your finger down your throat until you throw up all the food.” Nirvana! Now I can eat anything I want and stay skinny! This is bulimia. From that day forward, life spiraled out of control. Eventually I reached my revised goal weight of ninety-eight pounds.

After five agonizing years, I graduated from college and landed a coveted sales position in the pharmaceutical industry. My life looked great on the outside. But inside, the battle with this life-zapping monster raged on. Completely powerless over this parasite, my friendships, my work, my entire life, continued to unravel. I held a secret no one could know.

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Isn’t it interesting that the very desires which lead to our ruin start as healthy longings? Pure desires such as the need to feel joy, love, approval, security, to eat and enjoy sex, can become polluted. This is what the power of sin does. We can look at our motives and see bliss, when, in fact, destruction is lurking in our blind spots. Think about your desires. Could they be manifested in some type of harmful behavior?

Excessive dieting, in this culture, is a metaphor for social acceptability. It is also an attempt to manage an uncontrollable life. The root of disordered eating is a need for control, for some kind of order. The person uses their obsession with food as a means to gain back control and order which they somehow feel has been taken from them or lost. It may also be a distraction because they feel inadequate or have low self-esteem or suffer from severe depression, anger, anxiety, or loneliness.

We develop a need to control in order to protect ourselves from pain. If you were abused in any form, constantly rejected, experienced a great loss, or had an addicted and/or controlling parent, you probably felt unable to manage your circumstances. In an effort to curb the frustration and deaden the pain you turned to food, a substance, exercise, or another outlet. I figured since I’d already experienced betrayal, loss, and disappointment, why risk more? A relationship with food or a substance is safer. A personal prison is safer.

We believe we’re calling the shots, but we’re not. Temporary fixes only hide the truth about the source of the pain. When we finally recognize we’re imperfect and desire power over each situation, we can begin to release control back to God. Then we’re less likely to use food, or any other substance or behavior, to plug the hole in our soul. Try it. Pray about it. A huge burden will be lifted off your shoulders. Over time, balance and stability can be restored to your life.

Meditate on God’s Promise: “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast” (1 Peter 5:10).

This is an excerpt from the book Something Happened On My Way To Hell"" by author Kimberly Davidson