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When you’re ready to get your diet in good shape,�� ��has you covered for some healthy, fun meal ideas. To take your health journey a step further, check out this article to keep your indoor workouts on point.��

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With COVID-19 changing so much about our daily lives, it’s no wonder many people are having a hard time sticking to their workouts. Not only is stress a����in finding motivation, but many individuals also can’t return to their gyms due to restrictions or closings, and some just don’t feel comfortable doing so. The good news is, there are plenty of ways to get back in the swing, whether it’s through tech, online classes or even working out with friends virtually.��

Get a Boost From Technology

While you won’t have all the equipment a gym has, there are some pieces of tech that will give your home workout a boost. Smartwatches and fitness trackers are beneficial in that they offer a simple way to stay on top of your physical health while you’re exercising. You can monitor your heart rate as well as speed, steps, and the number of calories you’re burning. Some of the latest models even����like an electrocardiogram and a blood oxygen sensor, so you can measure your progress safely.��

If low-tech is more your speed, you can also kick your workout into high gear with a new����to give you stability as you practice your routine or����to help challenge your muscles in a new way.��

Ask a family member to join you

No matter what kind of tech you’re using, workouts are much more fun when you’re not alone, so consider asking a family member to join you as you get fit using online classes. Whether you want to introduce the kiddos to yoga����or learn to shake it��, there are lots of ways you can stay healthy with your family. You can even reach out to loved ones outside the home; look for activities that can be shared online and talk to your distant family members about adding those videos and tutorials to their daily schedule.

Mix it up

Once your friends and loved ones are on board, ask them to share their usual workouts with you. Any form of exercise can����if you don’t mix it up a bit, so consider branching out to try something new once in a while. A routine is great if it helps you stay motivated, but think about how you can stay on track without getting stuck in a rut. If you’re into yoga, look for barre workouts that incorporate stretching with dance; if you typically use equipment in your workouts, try one that uses only your��.

The great thing about working out from home is that you can personalize your exercise plan so that it meets your needs. With the right tools and mindset, you can easily stay in shape even when you can’t get to the gym.

Photo via��

This creative and inspiring post was brought to you by Sheila Olson of .

This is the premise of Jenni Schaefer’s book Life Without Ed.��After years seeking treatment for her eating disorder, Jenni finally found a successful approach when viewing her disorder as an abusive spouse—a man who constantly told her she was fat, she was eating too much, she wasn’t working out enough, she wasn’t trying hard enough, she wasn’t good enough, skinny enough, determined enough, etc.

As an eating disorder survivor, that really resonated with me. I’ve often described my eating disorder in my book as a monster that I constantly caved to and also a voice in my head which was a mean-spirited, venomous, skinny, horrid thing who consistently did what Jenni says her “husband Ed�� (a nickname for her eating disorder) did to her.

So, what is Jenni’s best form of advice?

Divorce that bastard! Leave him in the dust! Rediscover yourself, the YOU that’s been cowering to him all these years and slap that dirtbag in the face with a Declaration of Independence. I can see why she found it so liberating.

Eating disorders destroy so much more than our skin and teeth.

I believe the exercises in the book that Jenni recommends could be really helpful to someone who is struggling to differentiate between the voice in their head and their actual desires and goals. The brain is such a smart, sneaky critter. Once it learns there is something that douses you with dopamine and gives you such rich pleasure, it takes note. Then it finds many ways (often in the form of a voice in your head, a nagging logic, that is making every effort to make you do that thing again, whatever it was that brought you such extreme pleasure) to try and trick you into thinking that is the only thing you should pursue, and nothing else can give you such a satisfying “high.�� The brain does not care that this thing (which for many of us suffering is either extreme deprivation or extreme indulgence) is extremely harmful to your body, your relationships, your self-esteem, your development, your �� well just about anything. Eating disorders destroy so much more than our skin and teeth.

The dialogue that Jenni consistently had with her rotten “husband,�� Ed, while she was recovering, showcases this in a very powerful way. You can see the eating disorder (which is not the person) constantly trying to trick her. I envision him laying a trap in front of her. One of those old-fashioned loops on the ground that if she steps into will cinch tight on her ankle and swoop her fast and hard up into the air, upside down. At which point she will likely empty her contents because that’s exactly what her eating disorder wanted her to do.

If you can envision that voice in your own head in some manner like that—as a thing other than you that is trying to harm you—it can help to tell him (or her or it or whatever you want to view your eating disorder as) to “Back off Bozo!�� Or anything else you want to scream at him as you sit down to a healthy meal, as you enjoy a leisurely, necessary day off from working out, as you curl up with a wonderful, delicious treat to watch a movie at night.

Invest in you. Keep trying. Keep getting up. Keep dusting yourself off. That’s what will really piss “Ed�� off. That’s what you should commit to.

One of the most powerful takeaways from Jenni’s book, for me, was the observation she made, as I have, that often people with eating disorders are those that are perfectionists. We are usually extremely hard workers. We are dedicated, determined, disciplined. All kinds of things that make us incredibly good at hoarding, hiding, and succeeding at starving, binging, and purging.

Unfortunately.

But, this is only because we are desperately trying to obtain something we believe possible: that if we become skinny, everything will be perfect. We’ll be perfect. We’ll have perfect lives. We’ll be loved (envied if that’s what we crave), successful, happy, etc. While I’ve written many times about how hard this is to give up because it feels like giving up, Jenni finally gave me a very effective tool to fight this “give up�� stigma. Jenni recommended:

Don’t try to be perfect. Strive to be persistent.

Meaning, perfection is unattainable. You will only destroy yourself trying. But, persistence—the will power to continually keep trying, keep getting up when you fall down, and keep committing to yourself—is what will really bring you all of those things you wanted: love, success, happiness. It really will. Invest in you. Keep trying. Keep getting up. Keep dusting yourself off. That’s what will really piss “Ed�� off. That’s what you should commit to.

I loved that. Doesn’t that feel empowering? You can thank Jenni Schaefer for that. Thank you, Jenni, for divorcing that bastard and telling us all we can do the same. Life Without Ed is like a long talk with a good friend that finally helps you turn the corner.

–C����������

��

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When someone says the word “eating disorder�� what vision immediately appears in your mind? Be honest and think about it for a moment. For me—and, I would imagine for many—a shockingly skinny white young girl pops up. And many think, for this reason, young white girls are the only people EDs affect. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. While I know this, I don’t always see evidence of it (although I wish I did), but a recent review I received from a reader of ��brought this realization back home:

EDs do not discriminate.

It doesn’t matter if you’re white or black or Chinese or Peruvian, big and tall, or fat and small, a girl or a boy, or even transgender, an ED cannot see any of that and cares nothing about it. Once it sees you as prey, you are only that: genderless, nondescript prey. And any of us can fall prey.

While I felt like I knew that, when I first started to recover and write my story, I will have to admit it was just a feeling because I didn’t actually know another person, a real person in my life, who had suffered from an ED who was not a young white woman. But, once I started to learn about the disease, through deep self-reflecting and healing, I found that it does not always stem from a pure desire to lose weight or be skinny. It does not dwell only in those who are skinny (as I was at my heaviest many times while battling my ED), and it does not continue and pervade for years upon years in those with otherwise successful lives simply because of a desire to become or stay skinny.

Once it sees you as prey, you are only that: genderless, nondescript prey. And any of us can fall prey.

I learned while healing that it can be a terrible, self-caused, mind-numbingly strong addiction, an impossible-to-kick habit. That is all. And I knew bad habits didn’t discriminate. So, I was confident EDs didn’t either. But, as I mentioned this was only a belief ��

Until ��

I received a private comment on Instagram recently from a guy who had read my book. He shared that he (like me) had lived alone for 8-10 years primarily because he was bulimic and that living alone made it easier to hide, although he was terribly lonely and wanted to welcome someone into his home and his life. He told me 95% of what I wrote in my book he could relate to, and he thanked me for my honest and raw account.

I was floored.

At first, I couldn’t figure out why this review, a review from a guy, had such a different impact on me, as I had received plenty of reviews from women; because, as I mentioned, I believed in my heart EDs affected men, too, although I did not have living proof. So, if I believe it, why should I be so surprised when it is proven true to me? This was the question I asked myself. And, after some serious soul-searching, I believe I found the answer.

I was surprised (honored and elated actually) to not only learn my theory had been true—that men suffer from EDs, too—but that my words, my story, written by a woman, could reach men, too. That’s what gripped me and made me feel once again, my book has been a success.

I was surprised (honored and elated actually) to not only learn my theory had been true—that men suffer from EDs, too—but that my words, my story, written by a woman, could reach men, too.

I always told myself, when writing it, publishing it, and promoting it, that if it reached only one person all the work and expense would be worth it. But I think I have to amend that statement to say, it makes it even more worth it, when it reaches different types of people. Because that tells me my book does not discriminate. It does not speak only to young white women, even though that’s what I am and was while I was suffering and when I wrote it.

No. My book can speak to men. I now have proof! And, I hope it can speak to whites, blacks, Chinese, Peruvians, the big and talls, and the fat and smalls. I believe ��can reach and heal people of all types. That wonderful man’s review was a reminder that my book is not exclusive. I think that’s what made me the most proud.

So, without revealing any identity, I just want to extend a huge, heartfelt thank-you from the bottom of my healing heart to the guy who wrote me recently and sent in a review for my book. You will never know what it means to me.

–C����������

This lady makes me smile I tell you! ��Many thanks to Beth Smyls at ��for working with me to bring this piece to life. ��Once I fell down the horrible rabbit hole (or habit, rather) that is bulimia, I found one of the hardest elements of getting out was simply breaking the habit. Strong habits are hard to break. But, I’ve included some great tips and advice in this piece that may help you or someone you know if they are struggling. ��Thank you again, Beth, for sharing this important piece on your sites! ��Check out the full article at Smyls here:

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I think we’re all pretty familiar with the “life-size�� Barbie��analogy where a Barbie��doll is made to-scale as a life-size woman and she’s absolutely ridiculous: boobs she could not fit into any shirt, feet the size of insects, arms as thin as reeds. It really is quite hilarious (and sad) that children strive to look like that. If you haven’t seen that Barbie��analogy, here’s a great recap:

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While I think this measurement-to-measurement comparison is an important reminder to the little girls and boys inside us that Barbie��is not a good role model, the more I think about Barbie, the more I see how a real-life version of Barbie��would make me laugh. I wouldn’t envy her, or be jealous of her. I would simply laugh. Just imagine the many oddities and limitations Barbie��has to deal with and how she might handle that on social media:

Because she can never NOT smile:

“Lost in Simon Says again today. Hate when he says ‘make a sad face��.��
��� am pissed. Why don’t you believe me?��
“This IS my resting bitch face.��

Because she has no nipples:

“Piercing guy told me ‘No�� because he wouldn’t know where to put them.��
���s it cold in here? I can never tell.��
“Where do I put my pasties?��

Because her knees only bend with two audible pops up to 20 degrees:

“Namaste in this awkward extended position cause I can’t do Lotus.��
“At least I can bend and snap (oh �� *snap*).��
“There goes my pole-dancing career.��

Because her toes are always pointed like she’s in a perpetual orgasm:

“Got my ‘O�� feet on today (and everyday)!��
��� can’t wear Birkenstocks. I just can’t.��
��� can’t understand why they call them ‘flip-flops�� �� mine never flop.��
“Why are the cops always so mad when I tippie-toe in the line-up?��

Because �� well, just because she’s hard, shiny plastic:

“Nothing jiggles when I twerk.��
“How do I ‘make it clap?’��

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The more I think about it, the harder I laugh. Imagine Barbie��trying to go down stairs. Her back foot wouldn’t bend enough to let her safely put her front foot (even in ‘O�� mode) onto the next step, so she would just tumble the rest of the way down and land in an only slightly-bended heap at the bottom.��Like a falling stick. (It’s a good thing she’s plastic.)

But, then how does she even get up?

Can she?

I believe if Barbie��took one single fall, she’d be down forever.

I hope some of these Barbie��musings have made you all laugh as hard as I have, and—far more importantly—realize how infinitely more amazing YOUR bendable, capable, unique body is compared to that piece of plastic.

–C����������

You are an amazing person, you know that?

Sure, you may not believe me right now, if you feel you’re having a bad food day, or you feel sluggish and huge and mad at yourself today. But, do you want to know something that’s really great about people like you me—and, yes, the word “like�� there includes the fact that I (and maybe you, too, to some degree) have suffered from an eating disorder?

We like to push ourselves. Often an eating disorder arises out of an initially benign desire to simply be a better person, be a better version of ourselves. While we may go about it all wrong and royally screw up (if you don’t do that at some point, you’re not truly living!), our initial desire was simply to attain a goal. Many eating disorder sufferers and survivors start out with the same beneficial objective, one many people struggle to motivate themselves to. That is to accomplish a goal. Hence my newly-coined phrase for us! We are:

#GoalDiggers

We have the desire to achieve things! And, we have infinite pools of drive. Many eating disorder victims are exceedingly driven and, unfortunately, too hard on ourselves. But, the good news is, we have that inner motivation and stamina. We really are very strong, capable, highly-incentivized people, which is not something that can be taught. It resides within us. So, the exceptional news I have for you for the new year is �� you can harness that goal-driven goodness.

Let’s Set Some 2020 Goals!��

I honestly love doing this. It can be a big goal, a tiny goal. Just something you’ve wanted to do for a while, so you decide today (right now!) I’m going to do that this year. While I lean more toward the physical/creative accomplishments, yours may be organizational (cleaning out your garage to make a studio), emotional (finally getting rid of people in your life you know bring you down), or educational (setting aside time to learn to speak Spanish). Whatever it is �� set one. Today! Right now!

The Great Thing About Goals

One of the really awesome things about goals is that they distract you from those pestering food issues that often run around in your brain. Once you have a goal set, you can easily shut that sh%t down and go work on your goal! You can even say it out loud to that nagging voice: “Jesus, lady, let it go! I’ve got more important things to do right now.�� Because you will! Your goal!

Once you find you have something more important in your life than the number on the scale or your inner calorie count, it can be freeing to devote your attention to that instead. And, you’ll be surprised at how quickly those former numbers start to seem so trivial and unimportant. Because they are! But, it may take an attention-grabbing goal to make you realize this. One that ignites and excites you! One that raptures your mental focus and makes you proud of yourself as you start to make strides toward it.

My Goals for 2019 and 2020

To give you a little inspiration (although you may not need it!) I will share my goals for 2019 and the goals I have set for myself in 2020. In 2019, I wanted to work on my hand-balancing. Being a former gymnast and someone who likes to do strength-training and yoga, I knew I would enjoy working on this skill. Cirque de Soleil dancers and the like who post their amazing upside-down poses on Instagram were also inspiring to me. This one, , in particular.

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Her hand-balancing posts really motivated me. So, I decided to devote a half hour every day that I could to working on my own hand-balancing (and boy does it take time and patience �� like anything great worth doing!). And, most importantly, when I was working on my hand-balancing, I was most certainly not thinking about what I had or had not eaten that day. It was a freeing mental challenge.

And, while I’m not exceptional at it now. I have improved. My hard work paid off. And, I can hold a decent handstand on a lucky day for more than 30 seconds. Something I was never even able to do as a gymnast! That’s something to really be proud of, and I can say I was able to accomplish that because I am a driven, motivated person. Probably just like you!

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Setting goals for yourself like this and pushing yourself to follow through with them can help train your brain to shift its focus off of food and onto other far-more rewarding and healthy endeavors that bring you even more pleasure.

For 2020, I have set a goal for myself to write a play. While I’ve written many books and pieces in my adult career—from fiction to non-fiction to articles to blogs—I have never written a play, and I believe I will enjoy the process. Because I am a driven, Type-A person, I know I will accomplish it. It may not win an Emmy, but I will write a play, dammit! I can say that about myself because I know how hard I am on myself and what lengths I will go to achieve something. It is this personality trait that made me fall prey to an ED, but it is also what gave me the drive to recover.

You have to embrace yourself, all aspects of your personality that make you who you are. Acknowledge your weaknesses while idolizing your strengths. You can use your inner drive to push yourself to new heights.

So, what will it be for you fellow #goaldiggers? What were your goals for 2019 and what do you have your sights set on for 2020? Do tell!

–C������������

That’s what my grandmother called it anyway. Although that’s never what I would call her. She went by one name and one name only: Big Mom. But, the name for the white Christmas trash she made was quite fitting as that’s exactly what it looked like: this sticky, white hodge-podge mound of trashy snacks thrown together.

In all reality, it was just a soupped-up Rice Krispy/Chex Mix treat, but in my little ten-year-old mind, it was so much more. When I saw that goodie on Big Mom’s kitchen table, I knew Christmas was here! And, when I look back on it, I think it truly did sum up how I spent some of the most memorable Christmases of my childhood: with a hodge-podge of people thrown together, and just the right amount of white trash.

I don’t know why they call it a “broken family�� because most of the “non-broken�� ones I’ve seen are still very much broken somehow, too. Who’s to say what’s “broke�� or “working,�� right? My family definitely wasn’t perfect, but it worked just fine for my brother and me. And, the best part about growing up with divorced/re-married parents was that John and I usually got four or five Christmases total! I’m talking five different Christmas dinners followed by five separate Christmas present-opening sessions.

We had Christmas with Mom and my stepdad, Christmas with Mom’s family, Christmas with my stepdad’s family, Christmas with my Dad and his girlfriend, and Christmas with Big Mom (my Dad’s mother) and my Aunt De. For our allegedly “broken home,�� Christmas rocked! And, with that many Christmases to attend and that much family to see, you can bet there was plenty of white trash to enjoy. I won’t name names to protect the trashy, but these were just a few of my white Christmas trash icons:

My Aunt “Betty,�� with her poofed-out eighties home-permed hair. She was a waitress at Foxy’s Deli for �� decades, I’m sure of it. Aunt Betty smoked like a train and always brought two things to our Christmas dinner (in addition to her cigarettes): one can of jellied cranberry sauce and one can of black olives. And, for whatever reason—maybe to preserve her pretty sassy Foxy’s figure—Aunt Betty really only ate the olives. She would make a little plate, sure, but I saw her just push some food around and nibble here and there, consuming almost nothing but black olives.

I would put one on each of my fingers and nibble them off while I watched her bring one hand then the other to her mouth, cigarette, then olive, cigarette, then olive, and back again. “Olives help a gal watch her figure,�� she would say to me as she saw me nibbling them off my fingers. “Cigarettes, too,�� with wink, a long huff out, and a pat on my head.

My Cousin “DJ�� with the sleeves hacked off of every button-down plaid shirt he owned. If the phrase “Get ‘er done�� is coming to mind, you wouldn’t be too far off, except Larry the Cable Guy has about 102 pounds on Cousin DJ, who was rail thin. The guy had the kind of calves you find yourself staring at because they look like only bone. Just bone. No shape, meat, or muscle. And, to make matters worse, for some reason Cousin DJ must have thought this was an asset because he always paired his hacked-off Larry the Cable Guy shirt with khaki cargo shorts (yes, shorts, even in December!), then adorning his leg-sticks with socks, and combat boots.

I remember he always got socks as a gift from his mom, Aunt Betty. Never a new plaid shirt, new cargo shorts, or new boots. Just socks. It’s weird the things you remember looking back right? “Hey Squirt,�� DJ would say to me, then try to grab one of the olives on my fingers which always ignited a chase-and-tackle ensemble around the house. I miss that cable guy.

Lastly, I would be sorely remiss if I didn’t mention my favorite Christmas white trash. We’ll just call her Jaquelyn. My Dad’s long-ago, one-time, wayward girlfriend. Thankfully they were only together for about five minutes, but those minutes fell on Christmas and culminated in a Christmas my brother, John, and I will never forget.

“Wake up kids!�� she shouted, although we were not her kids. I started to blink my mind awake, remembering it was dark. Very dark. It’s too early for Christmas, I thought. It was literally pitch black outside. John and I were trying to get into the spirit, but that’s just hard to do at 3:25 a.m. I will never forget those were the numbers I saw on the digital clock in dad’s trailer when Jaquelyn woke us. She was fidgeting, scratching bloody streaks into her forearms, and blinking 40 times per minute. She was also thinner than DJ. My dad was clearly fuming, but trying to go merrily along with it.

Jacquelyn frantically shoved presents at us, helping us rip them to pieces in seconds. There wasn’t even time to process what we were getting or who it was from before another, half-open package was pushed into our laps. Jaquelyn flitted about in a frantic Christmas flurry until all of the presents were open and the clock showed 3:29 a.m.

Funny the things you remember.

“There,�� Jaquelyn said as she slumped back on the couch, her chest rising and falling. “Christmas is done.�� Then she popped up off the couch and went back to bed without another word, leaving John and I in a complete stupor. That was my first encounter with a “family�� member who was �� on something.

Christmas ��. good times!

So, for Christmas this year, I encourage you all to embrace the white trash! Both the goodies that are so nostalgic, chock full of only memories (not calories because those don’t exist at Christmas. I’ve included a white Christmas trash recipe for you below—you’re welcome!), as well as the crazy, come-out-of-the-woodwork family members that you only see once a year.

Have a Merry White Trash Christmas y’all!

Recipe:

—C����������

That’s exactly what eating disorder survivor, Kristen Brunello is doing with her —b����������� talking about it—and I could not be more grateful.

“Eating disorders grow in the dark,�� she says in her , which is so true.

They’re such a lonely, isolating disease. For those who (sadly, just like me) fall down that wretched rabbit hole, they find they spend their days, their nights, their every meal with those two stupid voices in their head telling them to “Eat!�� or “Don’t eat!�� Had I heard someone like Brunello talking about it so long ago, I would have saved myself years of torture.

Kristen��Brunello proclaims herself as an “open book�� about her eating disorder, committed to sharing both her own story and the stories of others who have recovered. She shares that her eating disorder got worse when she lived with a roommate in college who was also suffering from an eating disorder, though neither of them believed or admitted it.

As Kristen explains, they seemed to have this unspoken competition about who could eat the least. We all can relate to this on some level. Every single “beautiful�� (meaning skinny) image we see on Instagram often instantly ignites in us a feeling not of “Oh how pretty,�� but I’m jealous.

We are not our eating disorders. They are something we’re suffering from.

Many people cause their own eating disorder by casually restricting to lose weight. It can start that simply. The more accounts I’ve heard, like Kristen’s, the more I believe this is actually the norm. That eating disorders are not the result of some tragic childhood trauma or other emotional root. Their seed is self-planted by their host with very benign, well-meaning intentions.

Then our brain responds in protest, everything spirals out of control, until the disease has grown beyond our comprehension and we suffer for decades. But, voices like Kristen’s can break this cycle years sooner. She is shining a bright, suffocating light on that monster that lies within so many of us by first calling it exactly what it is—something apart from us. We are not our eating disorders. They are something we’re suffering from. And voices like Kristen’s can end that suffering much sooner.

Kristen’s story was real and relatable and gives me more confidence to continue sharing my own story��

I had no clue there were resources out there like this. Absolutely free. Kristen’s story was real and relatable and gives me more confidence to continue sharing my own story as hearing others�� accounts has been the most eye-opening and healing for me in my own recovery process.

Thank you,��Kristen, for sharing your words and wisdom on this topic. I am confident it will help many.

–C����������

A great piece of comedy is a verbal magic trick[.] [D]ealing with a lot of the same areas��where our defenses are the strongest—race, religion, politics, sexuality—but approaching them through humor instead of fight-or-flight adrenalin,��we get endorphins��and the alchemy of laughter turns our walls into windows,��revealing a fresh and unexpected point of view.

Chris Bliss, Comedian

Humor. It is the most difficult way to approach a sensitive subject because it seems to make light of it, it flirts on the verge of offensive. But, if done expertly, it can be the most effective tool because it sneaks up quietly and slips into your conscience while your guard is down. ���t’s just comedy. Nothing serious about it.�� Then all of a sudden you’ve seen something big and important in a very different light, and it is now all too serious. But it is also now true and undeniable, because you laughed at it. This is what humor can do. It can allow me to help you see the blunt reality of your life with an eating disorder and finally decide to stop damaging yourself. By the time you’ve laughed, you can’t take it back or un-see the honest truth exposed and I hope it will give you the strength you’ve been looking for to change it. Walls into windows.

I feel like I’m sashaying saucily up to you: “Would you like me to seduce you?�� Let’s see if I can.

I distinctly recall the first time I tried to make myself throw up. Poised tentatively in front of the bowl, staring into the water, not sure if I was really about to do what I was thinking about doing. “Really Callie?�� Then I did it. I jammed an awkward hand in, not knowing why or what I was doing but shoving it back there anyway—like a horny teenage boy trying to lose his virginity to a belly button—because something had to work.

And you may imagine me as a sad teen, a hurt high school student. I was not. I was nearing thirty.

What I just did, all that naughty food I just ate, had to be undone. And you may imagine me as a sad teen, a hurt high school student. I was not. I was nearing thirty. About to get my J.D. And, I remember thinking for a fleeting second, as my dry throat was revolting in pain, what, exactly, in my life needed such extreme fixing? What had brought me to my knees on a grimy floor in front of a toilet? What was so terribly wrong that I �� ? Then before my mind could answer, my body responded. Foul chunks ripped through my throat and it was done. A little lever in my mind was flipped.

*click*

I then knew I could do it. I had a whole new weapon in my eating disorder arsenal. Years before, I had chosen to make food my enemy. I had committed to punishing my body until it turned skinny and pretty, which meant nothing hurtful or bad would ever happen to me again. To accomplish that, I vowed to extract whatever way possible, whatever calories I had just put in because I told myself every single one was bad for me. Every single one that went in, they all had to come out. The ‘how�� did not matter, simply the ‘out.�� And now, I had found a new, way-easier-than-working-out way, to accomplish my all-necessary ‘out.�� The yang to my ‘in.�� Honestly, the first time I threw up, I felt happy. Relieved that food was out of me. I had found an answer. A solution. Kneeling and shouting from the toilet: ���’m in control, people! Can’t you see?��

I had just created the worst problem of my life. I had just planted the seed for a deeply-rooted, debilitating ten-year addiction.

And there went the line. We just crossed it. Humor, you saucy little vixen you! I hope you chuckled at least. But maybe you didn’t. Maybe you’re still standing stubbornly on the other side, your foul hands crossed over your bony chest, your red sweaty, snot-strewn face shaking ‘no.�� Maybe you don’t want to be converted because maybe you feel the way I used to about my disorder: that it was the only available answer for me. ��Everyone else in the world can eat normal and look normal and have beautiful bodies, but not me. That doesn’t work for me. I’ve tried it. I ate a bagel once and got so fat. For me, this is my only solution.��

Well, is it working?

We all know what I had just discovered—the fact that I could make myself throw up—was in no way the solution. Instead, I had just created the worst problem of my life. I had just planted the seed for a deeply-rooted, debilitating ten-year addiction.

I share these vile moments to remind you, and myself, how repulsive it was. How repulsive I was. And how horribly I was treating this beautiful, strong, capable body of mine.

Now that I have grown older and met people with despairingly sad health conditions—people who cannot easily walk a flight of stairs, who cannot swim, who cannot taste food, who have to empty the shit from their colostomy bag every couple of hours, people who cannot walk, run, surf, sing, climb—and I see that my body is thankfully, miraculously, by a stroke of sheer damn luck still able to do all of that and more. Yet some of the things I chose to do to it involved voluntary stomach convulsions, dry-heaving, sweating in the fetal position while an overdose of laxatives made their way through my miles of intestines, pressing a worried hand on my chest because my heart was beating so violently after a binge that I hoped pressure from the outside could somehow slow it down.

Body, I’m sorry. So unbelievably sorry.

And, I’m sure the burning question in your mind is: Why did this happen to me? Why did, as a hurt and scared teenager so many years ago, I flip that switch in my brain and cause myself to suffer an unnecessary disorder for so many years when I am a smart, capable, healthy woman?

All I know is I did it. For years and years. And hid it. For years and years.

I don’t have an exact answer for that. Because I’m very stubborn, driven, and exceedingly hard on myself. And I get royally pissed off when something hurts me and I respond irrationally. I decide to bend my poor body to my iron will and punish it for letting bad things happen to me? I don’t quite know. All I know is I did it. For years and years. And hid it. For years and years.

Maybe it was so I could become a voice for you and others, so I could save others from the same long-term horrid outcome. If that’s one potential outcome, I know I will be proud. If this book saves one solitary person, it’s worth every minute I put into it. I also know I have forgiven myself. And that it’s okay to laugh at your mistakes, even the dangerous dumb ones.

When you look back through all of your chapters—all the ironic coincidences and the trails and turns you took, and the times you found it all circled back anyway despite your best efforts—you have to find that life is just �� funny. I certainly think so.

So, let’s get you healed already. If I was there with you, I would hold this book up and slam it against your forehead: “The power of my charisma compels you!�� *bam!*

Now, go make some popcorn to nibble on slowly—so you’ll stop thinking about all the other fatty, greasy, cheesy things you want to eat right now because you’re sitting still, you’re hungry and it’s gnawing at you—and stay focused. Keep reading. Normalcy, happiness, and a healthier you awaits.

Excerpt from the Prologue of , by Callie Bowld.

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Good morning and��TGIF!

It’s that time again: Free Friday!

Anyone who would like a free eCopy of my book, What Goes Down: The End of an Eating Disorder, to read and review gets it!

Reading other’s stories of struggle and recovery was incredibly therapeutic for me when I was recovering, and I hope my words and story can help others too.

Throw a comment out if you would like a free eCopy, email me at��[email protected]��and I’ll get it over to you to read and review.��I can’t wait to hear what you think of it!

Here’s to recovery. Cheers!

–C����������[image error]

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