Food glorious food...
It didn't start well for me as I was too young to understand my predicament and too innocent to navigate the emotions I was feeling inside, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, so I turned to the only thing that I knew for protection - the fridge.
Mr fridge provided comfort and protection from pain, it started seemingly innocent but it became my ‘easy button’ when the fear of the unknown took over me and the first thing on the fantasy ferris wheel was food. I could eat way more than the average bear and I often fantasised about my next meal while currently eating the one I was inhaling. I didn't know then but food became my electric blanket it wrapped me up warm and snuggled me tight. So much so, I had a spare tire and ghetto booty as far as the eye could see. I popped in all the wrong places and I attracted 'no fine fellas' just unwanted faces. I seldomly left anything on my plate and was taught from a very young age from a family of big ghetto booty's that leaving food on one's plate was simply poor manners so ‘clean it up corrine’ became my middle name. But as life felt like it was spiralling out of my control, so was the size of my clothes and the fatness in my face. My nick name in kindy was cabbage patch kid and I was teased and bullied and by the age of 8 my new name around town was ‘beached whale’. Fuck that hurt not only did I feel abandoned by my dad and mum now I had to vote myself off the island as there wasn’t room for an overeating beached whale anywhere and so I eventually abandoned myself.
These limiting beliefs have carried me from baby to baby mumma. They move me away from my centre, keep me obese with my toxic relationship with the way I look and feel and show a dulled down shade of the rainbow in me. Self loathing has always been part of my DNA and driven me to dark places, I never felt right but the more capes you put on for super hero protection keep me living in the darkness of my past. Food issues has been a cape I have worn my entire life and I add it too my long list of heavy burdens and so off I go eating my way out of problems until my size 16 formal dress doesn't go half way up my back and has to be let out by a seamstress with extra material just to barley breathe myself through the corset and the night but then comes graduation and turning 18 and after umpteenth times failing at weight watchers and jenny craig on I go to find a new way to self medicate, a new cape to mask my feelings, hello alcohol move over food, hello diet pills move over food, hello starvation, move over food.. hello hospital admissions, hello hell.
