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Pacific Northwest, United States
I am The Shytrovert a proud, moderately shy INFP and this is my blog. I write about society, relationships, current events and how shy and introverted folks can cope in an extroverted world.


Overheard on the Interwebs…Eating Disorder Double Standards

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I found this during my routine surfing adventures.  It’s a comment on a story about the increasing incidences of eating disorders among women 35 and older.  This post brings up an interesting issue, that there is a double standard in effect for those who have anorexia or bulimia versus those who have binge-eating disorder because the latter tend to be noticeably overweight.  A warning, this post is gritty, bitter and emotional – and that’s why I needed to share it. 
Anorexics get pitied and reassured. Bulemics get sympathy and understanding. ‘Oh, you're so brave, you just need to be strong. We can get through this.’
“Binge eaters and sugar addicts are referred to as "weak willed" or "gluttons," are beaten down, belittled and patronized, and get chided for being fat, unless they're not fat, in which case they get off scott-free.”
There is no kind, compassionate reassurance, there's just lots of disdain, disgust, mockery and abuse. Because we have one of "THOSE" disorders. The fatty disorders. The kind that makes ya fat, you fatty. Why you so fat? You're such a disgrace, to the whole human race, fatso. Put down the fork.
You might not think or say these things, but I assure you, most people hear "binge eating disorder" and think about a 600 pound Jabba scarfing down burgers like a cartoon character. Compassion and dignity is the furthest from their minds.
The compulsion to binge is just as strong as the compulsion to starve, but pardon them for not having the pretty, photogenic eating disorders.
It's all funny, right? Just hilarious jokes that for some reason only you can get in on.
Until your best friend dies because she failed to seek treatment for a treatable condition. Because she was convinced no one would help her, that no one could love her, that no one thought she was a mutually respectable human being. Because every day she'd walk home and get snorted at by passers-by, and the only way she could cope was to rely on comfort food.
Suddenly those fat jokes leave a sour aftertaste.
 Or maybe they don't.
 Maybe they're still just as funny to you.
Nothing funnier than a dead fatty, isn't there? I'd laugh with you, but she was one of my closest friends, so I don't feel much like sharing in the joke…

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