I am bipolar and a recovering anorexic made fat by both side effects of bipolar medication, and a damaged thyroid caused by Lithium. Living single and alone, its not only a challenge to cook for one, but it’s a daily battle to eat a nutritious, balanced diet. Or even just to eat at all. I transition between starvation, comfort and binge eating. Everything to extreme, and nothing balanced.
This is my weekly journal of some of my meals. An attempt to keep account of my successes and failures with food. I’ve thrown in some recipes and tips and tricks as I journey towards balanced, healthy eating.
I watched Pulp Fiction last night. One of the characters talks about the beauty of having a pot belly. Where every other part of her body – her arms, her legs, her breasts, her face – were all correctly proportioned, except for her protuding pot belly. The character found this physical feature quite appealing.
Hypothyroidism and bipolar medications have given me a belly too. But not quite the romantic pot belly from Pulp Fiction. No, mine is neither beautiful nor sexy, cute nor appealing. Mine is a big rotund buddha belly. Think Michelin Man and you get the picture.
I’m ashamed of my belly. But I try to tell myself that having this buddha belly means I am alive. I fought back from an ingrained behaviour of starvation. And despite this I am alive, albeit with a belly. Every day I try to be grateful for my life affirming belly. And sometimes, when I’m down on my luck, I rub my belly with both hands and make a wish