“No, I Don’t Want Any F-ing Ice Cream”: Camping With An Eating Disorder

This weekend was a holiday.

Here I am, 27 years old – about to start a bomb job tomorrow – the stress of my past 2 unemployed months lifted from my shoulders –

And yet this weekend I went camping – in the happiest of Ralph Walo Emerson places- and was still consumed by the inevitable eating disorder panic.

That moment that everyone in a car shouts “Let’s get ice cream!”

And you sit in the back, slinking into your Marmot jacket – trying to disappear from your reality in the back of a Colorado Suburu SUV.

Annoyed by the people asking – and then annoyed at yourself for feeling flustered in the first place.

June- fire
Camping grounds!

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The (Secret) Life Of Eating Disorders And Dating

Let’s talk about sex, bay-bee. Let’s talk about you and me.

salt n pepper

JK Mom, let’s not.

This is the hardest post I have ever written, so forgive me as I deflect with weak humor.

I don’t write about my intimate relationships very often because it’s like opening up Pandora’s Box of emotional destruction.

Like we’re talking on a scale of Jim and Pam to Bella and Edward codependency – I’m at like a Romeo and Juliet (cause I mean when you think about it, both those fools ended it all over each other after WHAT, like TWO days? Shakespeare; the master u-hauler)

The truth is my relationship history is such a disaster that I cherry pick the romantic relationships I have chosen to talk about and portray in my writing. I do it with my friends and family, my blog, everywhere.

In other words, I’ve never been 100% honest about my ongoing relationship status because I’m always shielding something from someone.

Oh my God – I just said it. Wave goodbye to all the dates I would’ve had before this post.

hary met sally

Continue reading “The (Secret) Life Of Eating Disorders And Dating”