Earlier this year, Refinery29 published an article about the curious paradox of being a foodie recovering from an eating disorder. The author’s hesitant conclusion was that an epicurean tongue may be impeding her efforts to regain her health, but do eating disorder recovery and a deep love for food need to be mutually exclusive?
In tenth grade, I was obsessed with food blogs. I spent hours gazing at photo after sumptuous photo, imagining how each exotic, full-flavored morsel would feel on my tongue. Saving my favorite recipes and reviewing them again day after day, I constructed imaginary multicourse dinners around each dish. At night, I dreamed of eating, of clearing plate after plate until finally my appetite was sated.
And every morning I would wake up covered in cold sweat and regret, relieved that my nighttime feast had only been a dream; the food of my fantasies was also the food I feared most, the literal forbidden fruit that I could never let myself eat. I tantalized myself with images of endless burrata crostini and salted caramel cheesecake while restricting my diet to meticulously measured portions of food I considered “safe.”