B.E.D. Now you know and are wondering how to act around me. 7 helpful hints.

I will totally eat your food so prepare to brandish your fork like a switchblade.

No I won’t.

But, I have outed myself. It’s a new reality in some of my friendships. It’s the elephant in the room. No pun intended. You can’t put the genie back in the bottle. The least I can do is offer guidance on how to navigate this new level of personal narcissism.

You may notice an undertone of ferocity in some of my suggestions. Please bear in mind that this is a new confessional for me. I’m very, very sorry ahead of time. I really am a good person. That said…

Suggestion 1.

If you want to talk about it, ask. I obviously have no filters when it comes to writing about it.

I’ll talk about it.

Suggestion 2.

If you’re nervous and blather, don’t worry too much. I’ll try to assume you mean well. That said, you might not want to emulate my poor conversational and social skills. To illustrate. The scene: A local theater lobby. The time: intermission. The cast: You, me and someone I went to the play with.

“Hi! I’m loving this show. What brings you out tonight? Do you know anyone in the cast who has binge eating disorder like me? And absolutely will blow up like a balloon if they don’t find something else to do in the evening like be at rehearsals?”

Yes. I’m that smooth.

Suggestion 3.

Ignore it. There’s nothing more irritating than someone who pats you on the arm with a sympathetic and knowing look when you buy a bag of M&M’s during intermission. Actually, there is one thing more irritating. Inappropriate oversharing can be rather off-putting but you opted to read this blog so it’s no-one’s fault but your own.

Suggestion 4.

Refrain from offering helpful advice. Do not suggest I opt for the rice cakes instead of the M&M’s. I might bite you. At the least, you’ll get the bug-eyed glaring of your life and I’ll still buy the M&M’s. I’ll try to understand that you mean well but there is absolutely no guarantee that I won’t flip out. And I’ll still buy those M&M’s.

Suggestion 5.

Don’t compare our situations unless you also suffer from binge eating disorder. I don’t want to hear about your self-discipline. I have an eating disorder. Maybe someday, I can be happy for you. Right now, I want to stab you in the eye with a fork.

Suggestion 6.

Be patient with new meds. Down the road, when my prescription is authorized by my insurance company who obviously knows better than my Dr, you might see some weensy oddness as I titrate onto Vyvanse. Yeah, it’s got a plethora of totally whacked side effects possible. I’m ever so looking forward to it. And yet, I really am looking forward to it.

Codicil to your kind patience while I re-work my med cocktail, don’t second guess me. Don’t knowingly whisper “Oh, it must be the new meds.” It might be but it also might be my naturally occurring poor judgement. It might be the odd way my mind works anyway. I might not have any fucks left to give.

Side note to the new meds suggestion – I might not tell you that they’ve started and just keep you guessing.

Side note to the side note – I’ll tell you when the new meds have started because I absolutely cannot keep this shit to myself.

Suggestion 7.

Don’t change your expectations of me. I still have a responsibility to be a productive and kind human being. Which is one of the reasons I’m offering these suggestions.

It all adds up

I’m not armed. No need to walk on eggshells around me. I chose to tell the world that I have binge eating disorder and I own that. We can still be friends.

Right?

I’m Susan Scot Fry, author of “A Year of Significance”. In 2020, I take on the greatest nemesis of my life: Binge Eating Disorder. With a side of aplomb sauce. Honest, occasionally humorous and sometimes I swear.