Daily Archives: 13/01/2010

Marya Hornbacher “Wasted: A memoir of anorexia and bulimia”


Some of us decide to take a shortcut, decide the world is too much or too little, death is so easy, so smiling, so simple; and death is dramatic, a final fuck-you to the world.

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We fought so hard and so often for a very simple reason: it was the only mode of connection that we could agree upon. There was a point of contact, there was an assurance that the other one was there, that they knew we were there, that we all being given our due moment of attention.

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Yes, eating is definitely a problem. Got to stop eating.

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When a woman is thin in this culture, she proves her worth, in a way that no great accomplishment, no stellar career, nothing at all can match. We believe she has done what centuries of a collective unconscious insist that no woman can do – control herself.

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Fearing the constant thunder in the mind that bulimia brings, I turned toward the silence of anorexia.

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Bless me father, for I have sinned, I ate an ice cream sundae.

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I had no patience for my body. I wanted it to go away so that I could be a pure mind, a walking brain, admired and acclaimed for my incredible self-control.

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It’s interesting how we think of calories as the Antichrist, rather than an energy source.

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You forget what it means to feel all right because you feel like shit all of the time, and you can’t remember what it was like before.

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We claim a loss of appetite, a most sacred aphysicality, superwomen who have conquered the feminine realm of the material and finally gained access to the masculine realm of the world.

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I cannot stand any of this and I shut down.

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They charted my Issues, intimacy being the big one. I wanted none of it, no attachments, no physical contact, no display of emotion. They noted that I knew only two emotions in myself: pissed and fine. “But fine isn’t an emotion,” they said.

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I wanted to talk to her, and sit in the room all day with her to tell her things, to have someone near me, to go to a movie, to talk about life, to be a human being again.

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You never come back, not all the way. Always, there is an odd distance between you and the people you meet, a barrier, thin as the glass of a mirror. You never come all the way out of the mirror; you stand, for the rest of your life, with one foot in this world and one in another, where everything is upside down and backward and sad.

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And still, every goddamn day I have to think up a reason to live.

10/10.

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