A Note from a Reader on the Diet Treadmill

A year and a half after "Born Round" first came out, I still get at least an email a week from a reader who saw much of herself or himself in the book's depiction of a person struggling with appetite, food compulsions, food neuroses and body image. Here's one that came in this week, from a young woman who expressly said, at the end of the email, that I was welcome to post her comments, without her name, on this site.

(A side note: 95 percent of the emails I mention are from heterosexual women or gay men. Why is that? I'll offer some thoughts in a future post, but if you have your own and want to email them to me at AFrankJr@gmail.com, for subsequent posting in this space, please do. Just let me know whether you want your name attached to what you've written or not.)

Here's the email I got this week:

"I just reluctantly finished Born Round, after days of sneaking a read whenever I could. Mostly, and somewhat fittingly, I read your book during my daily gym routine of an hour on the elliptical. I have to admit that I am not a fan of memoirs, by and large --- generally, I find them self-serving and indulgent. But I learned so much, about myself and about food, from your book that I feel compelled to send a letter of thanks.

Surely you've received dozens of e-mails along this line, but I am also struggling with a substantial set of "food neuroses," as I've come to title them. Since I was 10 I've been on a diet --- initially Weight Watchers, though after several years the point-counting system morphed into a more calorie-focused mental log. Exercise has been a daily ritual for nearly four years now, my workouts growing in intensity as I grow older. I "experimented" (rather poorly) with more extreme weight-loss solutions like food deprivation and throwing up, with no real success. Mostly, I think those digressions were about seeking control and monitoring particularly stressful or indulgent eating circumstances, rather than looking for a get-thin-fast approach.

By and large I eat a healthy diet, but am constantly and perpetually haunted by concerns about what my next meal will entail (or more accurately, what sinful foods it WON'T entail). As a food writer myself, your debate about taking on the restaurant critic job rang true. Not only do I struggle with how to eat well and pleasurably while fighting off the anti-food demons in my head --- I also feel guilty and hypocritical about the joyful tone of my writing. Only I can know how that joy is dampened by a hasty attempt to avoid all but the vegetables on my plate, and quickly calculate the caloric damage of a meal, and how many hours of cardio will set my waist at ease. Or perhaps, you know this feeling as well.

A newfound, intense relationship has made me take a hard look at my food neuroses - but they fail to recede. Surely you know the jealous pains associated with watching a perfectly at-ease, healthy man scarf down whatever food is in sight, no matter the hour of day or proximity to the next meal. I feel myself growing anxious whenever an unplanned snack or meal in his company is approaching, worrying that that morning's exercise doesn't justify a late-night snack (even if just an apple, as I generally permit myself). I worry that he will unearth my fears, or that they will come to an unpleasant head one day, bubbling over as I snap at him for no reason better than my own insecurities. All I can hope is that he loves me enough to understand, rather than to dismiss my anxieties as superficial, misguided angst.

Thank you for putting your struggles into words more eloquent than I could ever manage. Thank you for allowing me to have some insight into myself, at a time so crucial in my personal and romantic development. As I juggle the college lifestyle with freelance writing and trying to keep up a thin figure, I often feel like I am floundering with no kindred spirit to provide advice. Now I can turn to your words as a friend when I am feeling particularly fat, particularly lonely, or particularly full of redemptive spirit."