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3.8 AVERAGE
3.8 AVERAGE
This book was an impulse buy from the bargain shelf at work, but it was surprisingly good. It's as much about her struggle with accepting herself as a lesbian as it is about the disease that was fed by that struggle. I definitely didn't feel like I was reading a book by a popular actress- which I would think would be heavily edited by their handlers. It was much too honest for that.
challenging
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Content Warnings
Graphic: Addiction, Alcoholism, Body horror, Body shaming, Chronic illness, Eating disorder, Fatphobia, Homophobia, Mental illness, Vomit, Lesbophobia, Outing, Alcohol
The true beauty in this book lies in the very fact that it was able to be written at all -- it is one of the most honest and compelling pieces of personal writing I've ever read, and for all the naysayers who say it could have used a run through an editor a couple more times, I say that written any other way would have lessened it. I feel like I would make this book compulsory reading if I were a high school teacher, and while I have never experienced the things that she has, to the degree that she has, I think we are all swayed by the same pressures. Her epilogue was the perfect way to end it and I couldn't agree more with her thoughts on dieting and the way we view food. Brutally beautiful book.
Officially giving this 3.5 stars. This is an unflinchingly honest potrayal of what goes on inside the mind of someone who is suffering from an eating disorder. It is sometimes difficult to read, but utterly fascinating for anyone remotely interested in psychosis.
Having first heard of Portia de Rossi only after she began dating Ellen DeGeneres, I had a very different idea of what she was like as opposed to what I learned after reading this book. She seems so well-adjusted and happy now, I can't believe how far she has come not only with her physcial health, but with her mental health as well. Not to mention the fact that she was able to come to terms with the fact that she is gay, which features more prominently in the book than you would think. In fact, her struggles with her sexual identity seem to compound her problems with her body inmage and self-esteem making her eating disorder that much worse.
I would most recommend this book to girls with eating disorders, since it is an insider's account and does not come off as being preachy at all.
If you're thinking about reading this, you should!
Having first heard of Portia de Rossi only after she began dating Ellen DeGeneres, I had a very different idea of what she was like as opposed to what I learned after reading this book. She seems so well-adjusted and happy now, I can't believe how far she has come not only with her physcial health, but with her mental health as well. Not to mention the fact that she was able to come to terms with the fact that she is gay, which features more prominently in the book than you would think. In fact, her struggles with her sexual identity seem to compound her problems with her body inmage and self-esteem making her eating disorder that much worse.
I would most recommend this book to girls with eating disorders, since it is an insider's account and does not come off as being preachy at all.
If you're thinking about reading this, you should!
I hope I can do justice to this book in my review. If you read the Goodreads blurb, you already know what the book is about, so, I'll restrict my comments to my own thoughts, and feelings.
This is not your usual memoir by someone who used to be anoxeric. She's not an immature teenager, she's an intelligent, introspective adult woman. She writes with skill, drawing you into her world, making you see and feel what she saw and felt.
As Portia walked us through her life she not only made it crystal clear how distorted an anoxeric's self perception truly is, she has also shown us how ANY eating disorder makes a person feel. Whether you're eating too little .. or too much. Either way, your concept of your life in relation to food isn't based in reality, isn't logical, and is so compulsive you can't see the error of your ways. You just keep on doing all the wrong things, thinking all the distorted thoughts, and eating in all the wrong ways, day after day after day .. year after year. The seemingly endless conversations with yourself about food is enough to send anyone 'round the bend. It never ends because 'you' are always talking to 'yourself' inside your head .. about food.
I'm going to include an excerpt here, and then I'll continue with my comments after you've read Portia's words.
"It's time to face last night. It was yogurt night, when I get my yogurt ready for the week. It's a dangerous night because there's always a chance of disaster when I allow myself to handle a lot of food at one time. But I had no indication that I was going to be in danger. I had eaten my 60-calorie portion of tuna normally, using chopsticks and allowing each bite of canned fish to be only the height and width of the tips of the chopsticks themselves. After dinner, I smoked cigarettes to allow myself the time I needed to digest the tuna properly and to feel the sensation of fullness. I went to the kitchen feeling no anxiety as I took out the tools I needed to perform the weekly operation: the kitchen scale, eight small plastic containers, one blue mixing bowl, Splenda, my measuring spoon, and my fork. I took the plain yogurt out of the fridge and, using the kitchen scale, divided it among the plastic containers adding one half teaspoon of Splenda to each portion. When I was satisfied that each portion weighed exactly two ounces, I then strategically hid the containers in the top section of the freezer behind ice-crusted plastic bags of old frozen vegetables so the yogurt wouldn't be the first thing I saw when I opened the freezer door.
Nothing abnormal so far.
With that, I went back to the sofa and allowed some time to pass. I knew that the thirty minutes it takes for the yogurt to reach the perfect consistency of a Dairy Queen wasn't up, and that checking in on it was an abnormality, but that's exactly what I did. I walked into the kitchen, I opened the freezer, and I looked at it. And I didn't just look at the portion I was supposed to eat. I looked at all of it.
I slammed the freezer door shut and went back to the living room. I sat on the dark green vinyl sofa facing the kitchen and smoked four cigarettes in a row to try to take away the urge for that icy-cold sweetness, because only when I stopped wanting it would I allow myself to have it. I didn't take my eyes off the freezer the whole time I sat smoking, just in case my mind had tricked me into thinking I was smoking when I was actually at that freezer bingeing. Staring at the door was the only way I could be certain that I wasn't opening it. By now the thirty minutes had definitely passed and it was time to eat my portion. I knew the best thing for me in that moment would be to abstain altogether, because eating one portion was the equivalent of an alcoholic being challenged to have one drink. But my overriding fear was that the pendulum would swing to the other extreme if I skipped a night. I've learned that overindulging the next day to make up for the 100 calories in the "minus" column from the day before is a certainty.
I took out my one allotted portion at 8:05 and mashed it with a fork until it reached the perfect consistency. But instead of sitting on the sofa savoring every taste in my white bowl with green flowers, using the fork to bring it to my mouth, I ate the yogurt from the plastic container over the kitchen sink with a teaspoon. I ate it fast. The deviation from the routine, the substitution of the tools, the speediness with which I ate silenced the drill sergeant and created an opening that invited in the thoughts I'm most afraid of--thoughts created by an evil force disguising itself as logic, poised to manipulate me with common sense. Reward yourself. You ate nothing at lunch. Normal people eat four times this amount and still lose weight. It's only yogurt. Do it. You deserve it.
Before I knew it, I was on the kitchen floor cradling the plastic Tupperware containing Tuesday's portion in the palm of my left hand, my right hand thumb and index finger stabbing into the icy crust. I ran my numb, yogurt-covered fingers across my lips and sucked them clean before diving into the container for more. As my fingers traveled back and forth from the container to my mouth, I didn't have a thought in my head. The repetition of the action lulled the relentless chatter into quiet meditation. I didn't want this trancelike state to end, and so when the first container was done, I got up off the floor and grabbed Wednesday's yogurt before my brain could process that it was still only Monday. By the time I came back to my senses, I had eaten six ounces of yogurt."
If you've ever had any kind of eating problem .. whether you're anoxeric or obese .. you've done this. Admit it. You have. You know exactly how Portia felt every second. Every second. You've felt the power of food ... over you, over your sanity, over your will ... crushing you.
That is what makes Portia's book so good. She can take that inner hell and put it into words on a page. Words that make sense. Words that completely convey the sheer torment of that life.
She, of course, talks about being gay .. being in the closet, being denied access to a loving relationship for fear of repercussions, being so alone.
She also talks about what drove her to eat again, and what life was like then .. not all that smooth .. food was still an out-of-control element in her life. She had to learn to think about food in a SANE manner. Sane food thoughts. Thousands of people strive to have those every day. More people than you could ever imagine would dearly love to have SANE FOOD THOUGHTS. Again, she is adept at sharing this new struggle with her readers.
After reading this book, I had a very honest talk with my husband .. about myself .. about things I try to 'hide' from him .. although I was never truly successful in that, as he informed me. Portia said, "It's ironic, really, when all I've ever wanted is to be loved for my true self, and yet I tried so hard to present myself as anything other than who I am." In talking about Ellen, her spouse, she said, "She would force me to live a truthful, honest life, to be exactly who I am with no pretence." And, so, I told my husband that I needed to live without pretence, to be accepted exactly as I am .. to stop feeling ashamed .. to start feeling like ME. Of course, he let me know that he accepts me, and always has. It is inside my own head wherein the problem lies. But thanks to Portia's book, I've cracked open my skull, and shone a ray of light inside. Here's to many more! Here's to SANE FOOD THOUGHTS! May we all be blessed with them.
Why did I tell you about my personal life? Every once in awhile a book reaches into our lives and actually CHANGES us. This book did that for me. Which means, it was a damn good book! :)
If you've read all of this, I thank you. May your kindness in taking the time to share my world, be returned to you a thousandfold.
5 Stars = It made a significant impact.
This is not your usual memoir by someone who used to be anoxeric. She's not an immature teenager, she's an intelligent, introspective adult woman. She writes with skill, drawing you into her world, making you see and feel what she saw and felt.
As Portia walked us through her life she not only made it crystal clear how distorted an anoxeric's self perception truly is, she has also shown us how ANY eating disorder makes a person feel. Whether you're eating too little .. or too much. Either way, your concept of your life in relation to food isn't based in reality, isn't logical, and is so compulsive you can't see the error of your ways. You just keep on doing all the wrong things, thinking all the distorted thoughts, and eating in all the wrong ways, day after day after day .. year after year. The seemingly endless conversations with yourself about food is enough to send anyone 'round the bend. It never ends because 'you' are always talking to 'yourself' inside your head .. about food.
I'm going to include an excerpt here, and then I'll continue with my comments after you've read Portia's words.
"It's time to face last night. It was yogurt night, when I get my yogurt ready for the week. It's a dangerous night because there's always a chance of disaster when I allow myself to handle a lot of food at one time. But I had no indication that I was going to be in danger. I had eaten my 60-calorie portion of tuna normally, using chopsticks and allowing each bite of canned fish to be only the height and width of the tips of the chopsticks themselves. After dinner, I smoked cigarettes to allow myself the time I needed to digest the tuna properly and to feel the sensation of fullness. I went to the kitchen feeling no anxiety as I took out the tools I needed to perform the weekly operation: the kitchen scale, eight small plastic containers, one blue mixing bowl, Splenda, my measuring spoon, and my fork. I took the plain yogurt out of the fridge and, using the kitchen scale, divided it among the plastic containers adding one half teaspoon of Splenda to each portion. When I was satisfied that each portion weighed exactly two ounces, I then strategically hid the containers in the top section of the freezer behind ice-crusted plastic bags of old frozen vegetables so the yogurt wouldn't be the first thing I saw when I opened the freezer door.
Nothing abnormal so far.
With that, I went back to the sofa and allowed some time to pass. I knew that the thirty minutes it takes for the yogurt to reach the perfect consistency of a Dairy Queen wasn't up, and that checking in on it was an abnormality, but that's exactly what I did. I walked into the kitchen, I opened the freezer, and I looked at it. And I didn't just look at the portion I was supposed to eat. I looked at all of it.
I slammed the freezer door shut and went back to the living room. I sat on the dark green vinyl sofa facing the kitchen and smoked four cigarettes in a row to try to take away the urge for that icy-cold sweetness, because only when I stopped wanting it would I allow myself to have it. I didn't take my eyes off the freezer the whole time I sat smoking, just in case my mind had tricked me into thinking I was smoking when I was actually at that freezer bingeing. Staring at the door was the only way I could be certain that I wasn't opening it. By now the thirty minutes had definitely passed and it was time to eat my portion. I knew the best thing for me in that moment would be to abstain altogether, because eating one portion was the equivalent of an alcoholic being challenged to have one drink. But my overriding fear was that the pendulum would swing to the other extreme if I skipped a night. I've learned that overindulging the next day to make up for the 100 calories in the "minus" column from the day before is a certainty.
I took out my one allotted portion at 8:05 and mashed it with a fork until it reached the perfect consistency. But instead of sitting on the sofa savoring every taste in my white bowl with green flowers, using the fork to bring it to my mouth, I ate the yogurt from the plastic container over the kitchen sink with a teaspoon. I ate it fast. The deviation from the routine, the substitution of the tools, the speediness with which I ate silenced the drill sergeant and created an opening that invited in the thoughts I'm most afraid of--thoughts created by an evil force disguising itself as logic, poised to manipulate me with common sense. Reward yourself. You ate nothing at lunch. Normal people eat four times this amount and still lose weight. It's only yogurt. Do it. You deserve it.
Before I knew it, I was on the kitchen floor cradling the plastic Tupperware containing Tuesday's portion in the palm of my left hand, my right hand thumb and index finger stabbing into the icy crust. I ran my numb, yogurt-covered fingers across my lips and sucked them clean before diving into the container for more. As my fingers traveled back and forth from the container to my mouth, I didn't have a thought in my head. The repetition of the action lulled the relentless chatter into quiet meditation. I didn't want this trancelike state to end, and so when the first container was done, I got up off the floor and grabbed Wednesday's yogurt before my brain could process that it was still only Monday. By the time I came back to my senses, I had eaten six ounces of yogurt."
If you've ever had any kind of eating problem .. whether you're anoxeric or obese .. you've done this. Admit it. You have. You know exactly how Portia felt every second. Every second. You've felt the power of food ... over you, over your sanity, over your will ... crushing you.
That is what makes Portia's book so good. She can take that inner hell and put it into words on a page. Words that make sense. Words that completely convey the sheer torment of that life.
She, of course, talks about being gay .. being in the closet, being denied access to a loving relationship for fear of repercussions, being so alone.
She also talks about what drove her to eat again, and what life was like then .. not all that smooth .. food was still an out-of-control element in her life. She had to learn to think about food in a SANE manner. Sane food thoughts. Thousands of people strive to have those every day. More people than you could ever imagine would dearly love to have SANE FOOD THOUGHTS. Again, she is adept at sharing this new struggle with her readers.
After reading this book, I had a very honest talk with my husband .. about myself .. about things I try to 'hide' from him .. although I was never truly successful in that, as he informed me. Portia said, "It's ironic, really, when all I've ever wanted is to be loved for my true self, and yet I tried so hard to present myself as anything other than who I am." In talking about Ellen, her spouse, she said, "She would force me to live a truthful, honest life, to be exactly who I am with no pretence." And, so, I told my husband that I needed to live without pretence, to be accepted exactly as I am .. to stop feeling ashamed .. to start feeling like ME. Of course, he let me know that he accepts me, and always has. It is inside my own head wherein the problem lies. But thanks to Portia's book, I've cracked open my skull, and shone a ray of light inside. Here's to many more! Here's to SANE FOOD THOUGHTS! May we all be blessed with them.
Why did I tell you about my personal life? Every once in awhile a book reaches into our lives and actually CHANGES us. This book did that for me. Which means, it was a damn good book! :)
If you've read all of this, I thank you. May your kindness in taking the time to share my world, be returned to you a thousandfold.
5 Stars = It made a significant impact.
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Well done. Although I don't identify specifically with the disordered eating, her honesty about her mental process made it easy to see unhealthy patterns in my own life and thinking. May be triggering for people with eating disorders to read, though it is powerful. A definite must-read for anyone who loves someone who suffers from bulimia/anorexia.
She wrote this with such honesty. It broke my heart but also made me feel hopeful. I think its good that someone is willing to tell this story because I'm sure there are many women out there that can relate.