Last Saturday, I mentioned my life has been somewhat blah as of late. Well, blah is actually a bit too tame of an adjective—try difficult, demanding, altogether arduous! And not due to school, strangely enough. On the contrary, I more or less adore my classes this semester.
No, the reason for my struggles currently stems from food . . . and honestly, these struggles trace back 3 years, since my senior year in high school. I haven’t discussed my personal troubles with food much here, mainly because they don’t really pertain to the underlying purpose of Vegan on the Go-Go. However, I’ve decided to share a bit more with you, dear readers, not only because it’s an honest reflection of yours truly, but also because I know a number of food bloggers have experienced disordered eating, too, and if my story can help someone else, then I am all too happy to reveal my dark past.
I’m a big girl—as in tall. I’m also quite thin. Some would even say skinny. I used to be even skinnier. Too much so, in fact. More specifically, nearly 10 pounds underweight. Growing up, though, I was always a little on the chubby side, and as I progressed first through adolescence and then through high school, I had virtually no self-esteem when it came to my body. I was ever-so-slightly overweight for my height, and I wasn’t really that active, nor did I eat very heathily. I yearned for years and years to be thin, thinking it would make me more popular, believing it would snag me that elusive boyfriend for which I wished, but all attempts at weight loss failed . . . until, that is, the summer right before I started university.
Unfortunately, I didn’t lose weight the right way—to make a long story short, I starved myself and compulsively exercised, and I was miserable. The weight dropped off, and within 6 months, I’d lost 50 pounds, only to lose another 10 over the course of the next year. In hindsight, I honestly have no idea how I did it, except that I had one hell of a willpower, certainly.
I assumed being thin would make me happy, popular, loveable. On the contrary, I was just as miserable as I had been in high school. I lost my period; my teeth yellowed from malnutrition (I never purged); I was constantly cold; I had no cushioning, so sitting on hard chairs was quite painful. Then, in January of this year, I was diagnosed with reactive hypoglycemia, and the reality struck me.
I panicked and immediately began raiding the fridge.
And I promptly gained 10 pounds, back to a healthy BMI (and in the process, I rediscovered the glory that is avocado!).
However, while ridding myself of old demons, I unfortunately developed a new problem, one that is just as bad as anorexia.
Binge eating.
I’ve read many former anorexics experience binge eating during their recovery. Well, apart from a little psychological residue, I consider myself recovered—I don’t restrict, I’ve reversed my hypoglycemia, and I sincerely enjoy food again (as I’ve obviously demonstrated here on my blog). So, why the binge eating? I’ve identified several potential factors:
1) Stress
2) Boredom
3) Sugar addiction
4) Not enough protein and/or veggies
5) A simple desire to taste something or chew
6) A desire to be secretive and/or disobedient
There are probably other, more subtles/subconscious reasons, too, but in my case, these are my main triggers. I’ve also identified my problem foods—nut butters, dried fruit, and bread. I can eat them without a problem most days, but when I begin to binge, those are the foods I crave . . . and overdose on.
So, I guess my point is this: I’m absolutely SICK and TIRED of this problem. I’ve tried multiple strategies to conquer it, but nothing has succeeded yet. I’ve searched and searched and searched for a solution . . . only to fail yet again. Last Saturday, I swore to make a change—and I did very well, until today. I know why, too: too much exercise, strangely enough. And because my hunger was, in turn, elevated, I began to stress and worry about weight gain, and in the end, I ate far, far more than my body actually needed. Now, my stomach feels like a landfill full of junk. It’s no wonder my digestive system struggles so much. As I write this, the acids are churning in complaint.
My body, mind, and soul have simply had enough. I love food, and I love to eat, but I’ve tipped the balance yet again—before, I ate too little, now I’m eating too much, and I definitely suffer the consequences, literally and figuratively.
I’ve discussed detox before, but now it’s time to call in the big guns. I’m turning to the three most important health books I own: The Crazy Sexy Diet by Kris Carr, The Kind Diet by Alicia Silverstone, and The Hip Chick’s Guide to Macrobiotics by Jessica Porter. Their guiding lights helped me finally overcome my anorexic tendencies earlier this year; hopefully, they can aid me again.
Experts say it takes at least 21 days to change a bad habit. Hence, I’m embarking on a 3-week detox—and not one of deprivation either. No, I intend to hone in my healthy lifestyle skills once and for all, and my blog is one of several resources that will hold me accountable. I will chronicle my eats and exercise routine, and of course, I will continue posting yummy recipes for the detoxing diva or dude. After all, my recipes are mostly all detox friendly; I just tend to eat more than the proper serving size. That is really my only flaw, and one that, with a little consciousness and compassion, can be fixed.
So, as the new day dawns and I’ve stayed up far later than my usual bedtime (thanks to caffeine, another bad habit that really needs to be eliminated), I now embark on a 21-day voyage to better health, happiness, and my best life possible!
Will you join me?

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