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doing better now

@remembernourishment

suffering with disordered eating (no diagnosis)
this is my healthy place to remind myself to romanticise food and that eating is good.
pro recovery and no numbers forever.
side blog. 25 - happy for minors to follow if they’re comfortable.

To myself, raised in an environment that glorified and romanticized restriction and suffering:

There is no victory in skipping dinner, or lunch, or breakfast, or morning coffee, or dessert.

There is no victory in refusing heaters and air conditioners and fans and heated blankets.

There is no victory in denying yourself sleep, or showers, or movement, or water, or a comfortable bed, or taking the elevator vs. the stairs.

There is no victory in refusing pain meds and heating pads and ice packs and medical help.

There is no victory in punishing yourself needlessly, in telling yourself that this pain you feel is because you are bad to the core and deserve it.

There is no victory in choking back your laughter and your tears, to keep an imagined equilibrium of safety that is really just a dry, cracked, empty, endless emotional desert.

You are here. You are in this body, and this body is yours. You deserve good things. You are alive, and that is messy and loud, and messy and loud are okay.

It’s okay to live abundantly. It’s okay to make mistakes, it’s okay to indulge. This paralysis of self-punishment, self-restriction, self-loathing is not healthy or good for you.

"this filter will show you if your teeth are yellow" "this filter will show you if your nose is perfect" "this filter will show you if your face is symmetrical" "this filter will show you if your lips are big" how about if we all blew up our phones forever

reblog this and tag with a food you no longer have access to (closed restaurant, state you moved away from, ex’s mom’s cooking, etc) that will haunt you until your dying day, mine are the spicy chicken sandwich on the employee menu at the fine dining restaurant I was a prep cook at, and the onion bagel from the kosher place down the street from my house when I lived in the city

i made your favorite dish. i made you something you’ve never tried before. i love you. i spent twenty minutes chopping. my grandmother made this for me when i was little. i made this dairy free for you. i love you. i want to eat together. the onions made me cry. i love you. i learned this recipe for you. i love you. i made this special for your birthday. i love you. i know you don’t like peppers. i love you. i love you. i love you.

ID: two tweets from Your Fat Friend (she/her/hers) @YrFatFriend: The "get your life back" narrative around weight loss is quietly, truly awful. The implication: fat people (or even *thin people who are not as thin as they'd like*) have lost our lives, or were never really living.

Anyway resist psychic death.

Like all the best foods, banmian are messy. They are impossible to eat with any degree of restraint or elegance. With each bite I feel increasingly powerful and glorious, like some kind of fierce mythological creature who only feasts on soy sauce noodles.
- Nina Ming Ya Powles, Tiny Moons: A Year of Eating in Shanghai, 2020

It is tiring to be a woman who loves to eat in a society where hunger is not something to be satisfied but to be controlled. Where a long history of female hunger is associated with shame and madness. The body must be punished for every misstep; for every “indulgence” the balance of control must be restored. To enjoy food as a young woman, to opt out every day from the guilt expected of me, is a radical act of love.

nina ming ya powles, tiny moons: a year of eating in shanghai, 2020

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