Although I can be quite open about my eating disorder, I still like to consider it a personal and private subject, which is mine. Nobody else decides the rules, decides my thoughts, or decides whom I tell. This leads me to the Tantrum aspect of the title.
I am the apple of my father’s eye; the academic A grade child, successful in all of her endeavours. Whenever I achieve a First at University, or inform him of my results, no father could be more over the moon than mine. Gifts are bought, cards are purchased. He is so proud and I know this, hence my reluctance to tell him the extent of my disorder. I haven’t lived with my father since I was 7, and only see him occasionally, sometimes only once a month, dependent upon how busy I am. Why would I present this information to him, which would blur his perfected image of me? ‘Hi Dad, you know how you think I’m so perfect and what not? Well, I have anorexia binge-purge and have done for 5 years, so that’s kind of the reason why I reject all food offerings…’ I do not need to burden him with this information.
However I have several people insisting I tell him, as in a way it is insulting to him as a father to not be involved with this major part of me. Yet I struggle to imagine a conversation whereby I tell my father about how imperfect his daughter is, whilst at the same time admitting to not telling him for 5 years. All I can imagine is shouting. Loud abusive shouting like what I got when I was younger. A lecture about how stupid I am and what I’m doing to my body. A lecture about why I never told him. My father isn’t gullible or idiotic. He knows I don’t eat, so always says something medical like ‘your bones will waste away’ however approaching your daughter who you barely see but yet are so proud of with the accusations of having an eating disorder probably also don’t go down too well in his head either.
Daddy's Little Girl (in a stupid hat)
I feel pressured to tell him, but I really don’t want to. My mother doesn’t talk to me about it and almost refuses to admit it’s happening (that’s her way of coping, to ignore situations) and I’ve been fine with this so I obviously don’t need a parental figure. If I go to him to inform him of my eating disorder it implies I want or need his help, which I do not. Why burden him for no reason other than to just purely inform.
I think my reluctance and determination to not receive help or advice has caused emotions to run high with the other half. Nights out, obviously intended for fun and all round ‘good times’, are not the ideal place to bring up deeper issues, which sparks depressive thoughts inside of me, but may also cause sadness in the other person. On a recent outing, my boyfriend raised the issue of my disorder and thought then was a suitable time to discuss and debate. My refusal to talk resulted in a night where his mind constantly trailed off and I may as well have been dancing with the wall. Once back home in the early hours, he concluded his reasons for non-enjoyment resided in our previous conversations before we ventured out, and for the first time, I saw him cry. I didn’t want my disorder to affect anybody, hence why it remained my secret for so long, however I am made to feel ignorant of how other people maybe affected by my self harming actions. Which in turn leads me straight back to my frustration over being told to tell my father. If there is one man I don’t want to see hurt and upset, it’s him.
The Skinny Fat Girl 