I'm sure I have mentioned over the past (many) years that I am convinced that I have an eating disorder. I think much of it stems from the fact that I never really learned to eat properly.
I'm not talking about my need to completely overstuff my mouth every time I eat pasta, although I have to admit that this is definately an eating disorder. I thought it was in my head until my Seeseter mentioned one adult day that I can't seem to eat pasta without overstuffing my mouth with it.
The way it began, I believe, was with pure laziness. I remember being a wee monster and being fed wonderful things like egg burrios and cereal and the not so wonderful concoction known as Spinach, Eggs, and Cheese which looked a lot like green eggs and cheese and tasted rather gross. I still hate canned spinach. FRESH spinach, eggs, and cheese, however, brings me great glee now that I am an adult. As a kid I probably would not eat it. I was picky. There were no hot dogs in there.
As I grew, so did the responsibility over myself grow. I'm not sure when I stopped being fed breakfast, but I do recall walking to school munching on a carrot. Or maybe a banana (this was pre banana allergy). I didn't really like bananas all that much so I was far more likely to be eating a carrot. This evolved into me skipping breakfast all together once I learned how to jump out of bed at the last possible moment. I blamed my parents, of course. There was never anything to eat in our house. (read, children are lazy)
Sometime as I was developing my non breakfast eating habits, my mom stopped making me lunch. I think I was 9. That year, I lived on peanut butter or peanut butter and butter sandwiches. Sometimes I would snag money out of the change jar over the washing machine. Sometimes I would borrow from the office. But mostly, it was peanut butter on white. Why, you ask, didn't I have jelly? I still hate when the jelly soaks through the bread liks a sandwich bruise. and for pete's sake, I was NINE. I hadn't learned that you can put peanut butter on both sides of the bread and then the jelly doesn't soak thorugh.
It didn't take very long before I was skipping lunch too. (Remember. Children are lazy) By 6th grade, my friends who got free lunch would sometimes give it to me while they spent their allowances on cookies and such. I can recall one dinner conversation whereas my parents went around the table asking what we all had for lunch. When it came around to me, my reply was, "a dorito". They either didn't realize that I meant one chip, not one bag, or (as I thought) they didn't care. I think that was the moment when I realized that there was something wrong with the picture.