Food: Love Hate

Why is food so comforting? Is it because as young babes when upset our mothers would scoop us up, press us against their warm bosom and there we would be cooed into submission as we sucked their nipple? Is that the reason behind its power? Or perhaps it's been evolutionarily adapted, this need to satiate.

Food has always been there for me, but which role: friend or foe? As an individual still struggling with eating disorders and body image it's this constant battle. I want to eat but I'll overdo it, especially when emotions come into play. Until therapy I never really knew what triggered my “snack attacks” (to put it lightly) but with each session we pull another layer covering the underlying issue away. It's been a crutch for me for so long. My nipple, if it will.

For example this Sunday after a good workout at the gym I was laying down on my living room floor, pressing on my boob (the reason I don't know). I felt this thing. Not an average thing floating around in my breast (they are conglomerate in composition), but a lump… I played around with it and had my mother take a feel. The way her eyes widened made me even more uneasy. What was it? My mother had benign cyst that she had removed but this is so much bigger. Of course this triggered my mind to race, coming up with the worst-case scenarios. Tumor, cancer? What was my fate? Before I could gain composure I was tossing every morsel of food into my mouth. I knew throwing up wasn't an option. I didn't feel up to the process. So I just continued to shovel the food in.

Same Old Song and Dance

Sometimes it's better to be alone, that way no one can hurt you...

My mission was simple: Text Him to hang out. Not my idea, my therapist's but it's not like I didn't want to.

Promptly after my appointment I sent the text: "what are you doing this weekend?" the rest is history. My newly found confidence had me floating on cloud nine. I found myself boldly texting new boys all week, but the thought of hanging out with Him had me shaken up.

Yesterday was the day. I went about my morning as I normally would, went to the gym, cleaned my room, and talked to my distant best friend, but all I could think about was Him. My stomach was in knots and I found myself running to and from the bathroom. He was making me physically ill! My armpits were sweaty and my hands visibly shaking. I needed to calm down.

The text finally rolled in, it was time. I hopped into my Toyota Corolla and headed out. My speakers blared the top songs of the summer and I sang loudly in an attempt to drown the thoughts swirling around my head. I was the first to arrive and my heart thumped harder than the bass in the song against my chest. I impatiently waited and nearly jumped out of my seat each time a car pulled into the parking lot. 

While scrolling through my phone to keep my hands busy He pulled in. This was the big moment. I couldn't control my lips from curling into a wide obnoxious smile. I grabbed the brownies I baked and leapt out of my car. I walked closer and closer until finally I was near enough to smell His familiar scent. I wrapped my arms around his waist and melted into him like butter on hot toast. My fate was sealed - back to square one. 

We began our walk through the nearby brush and soon reality faded and we were in our own world just like old times. After some laughs, a few wild animals and a risky creek crossing we emerged from the trees and reality hit me like a ton of bricks. He plopped on a nearby bench and stretch all six foot seven of himself across the seat. I squeezed onto the edge. He continued to talk and I looked down at him the way puppy looks at his owner as he walks out the door. He smiled that signature smile and looked straight into my eyes. 

You can't do that, you can't look at somebody like that and not have feelings for them. You have to feel what I feel. You have to be squirming in your seat trying to stop yourself from reaching out and planting one on me too, right? 

Our time was up but I wasn't ready to leave. I'm so tired of saying goodbye. I hopped back into my car and drove home. I was more confused than ever, I wish I'd never gone...

The Truth is Out

Every story has three sides: Your side, my side and the truth. The truth in this story is that I don’t hate you I hate myself. I wonder if I’ll ever be okay, if I will ever be normal - happy. I don’t expect life to be full of unicorns and rainbows but how I’ve felt for about 5 years now is not okay. I feel like I use my eating disorder as a crutch, but in the end it all leads back to it. I have terrible mood swings and I often take my aggression out on the people closest to me (in this case my roommate). When I am having a bad day I shut down, isolate myself and want nothing more than to vanish. I push friends away making excuses to be alone with my disorder. I get so frustrated with myself for being so unkind to those around but I just feel so out of control sometimes. I should have never left home and come to college. I’ve made a mess for everyone I have come into contact with. There have been times where I really have just wanted it to end -“It” as in me. I have good days where I love me, but the bad days outweigh those by far.

I’m damaged goods, maybe too damaged to repair…

Old Habits Die Hard

I awake from my mid-day slumber and shuffle to the bathroom. My mom hearing my footsteps makes her way up the stairs. We meet in the kitchen. She looks at me and without a word exchanged wraps me tight in her arms. There we stood in the kitchen for nearly 5 minutes, silently embracing. Tears slide down my cheek onto my mother’s jacket; I break free and she just looks at me with her kind green eyes. How do I tell her? The silence continues as I pick my nails. After what seems like an eternity, I utter the words “I threw up today”. I can see the pain in her eyes as she pulls me in tightly for the second time. Here I am almost 20 years old reduced to tears in my mother’s arms. Will I ever get better? 

All You are is Mean

As I emerged from the NYSC on 125^th, the fresh air washed over my sweat-drenched body. I had just banged out another amazing circuit and was feeling quite pleased with myself. It was such a beautiful day: It was cool, yet sunny and I woke myself up before my alarm clock had to. I moseyed casually (in my orange rain boots) to the subway turnstile, swiped my card and headed to the platform. The train arrived promptly and as I plopped my tired body on the seat nearest the door, I mentally went through my schedule for today. I had an art history class at 12:10 and a math class later on tonight. Finished mapping out my day, I scrolled through the pictures on my phone. I came across a picture of Rihanna, one I thought she looks pretty darn good in. I loved her outfit and wanted to replicate it. I decided to send this hot picture to none other than Naudie. She would enjoy it as much as I did. I started typing the text so I could easily send it once I regained service. At this point we were only at 110^th street. The doors opened and two boys stood, debating whether to get off here or at the next street 103^rd. The boy nearest me leaned over (I presumed) to look at the map of Manhattan and then placed his hand on mine. Before I could react the two darted off the train narrowly escaping the grip of the closing doors. Still confused at what had happened, I looked down to find my hands, empty. I looked across the train from me to an older gentleman who silently shook his head in disgust. His nod of disapproval was the only verification I needed. I had just been jacked (for lack of a better term).

Finally 86^th street rolled around and I left the train upset. Tears welled up in my eyes but I managed to hold them in. I walked into my apartment and kept thinking about what had just happened. I totally could have taken those pip-squeaks, I am certain I could have outrun them. Wouldn't that have been awesome, me chasing after them in my orange rainboots? I'd chase them then tackle one of them to the ground with the force of a 300-pound line backer. Damn it, can I get a do-over? I decided there’s no use getting upset about it. What’s done is done; I can wish all I want to change the situation but the reality is I can't.

Those hooligans must be real proud of themselves stealing the little white girl-in-the-orange rain boots’ phone like that. Why didn’t they take the big, heavily muscled guy’s phone? Pussies.

My only question left is Why You Gotta be so mean?

The Revelation

The night of March 26^th, 2012 things got a little heated in apartment 1A. Two things suck about this:

1) I nearly suffocated myself under my pillow trying to muffle the sounds of my wallowing.

2) When you share a bedroom with someone who are fighting with they are the last thing you see before you fall asleep and the first thing you see you when you wake up (marriage must suck).

That night I couldn't fall asleep for my mind was riddled at how we could've gotten to this point.

At the start of this semester (due to some unfortunate circumstances) an old friend ended up bunking at our house. She (Naudie) was one of the first friends that I made coming into college way back when I was still at LIM. It's one of those friendships you really can explain, it just seemed to come into existence. She lived one floor above me in the dorms and most nights you could find me up there goofing around. I equate our friends to that of my Buffalo Bestie, I feel like she makes me a better person, so lighthearted and carefree.

About a month into first semester freshman year Lauren (My dorm roommate) and I were forced to find a third roommate after our other roommate dropped out of college. The new roommate was Sam and she moved in around October. I (being true to my awkward nature) did not speak to the girl for a couple months. I find it difficult to open up to new people, so that's why when friends like Naudie come into my life, I hold on to them with all my might. Over winter break LIM forces their students to get a six-week internship. This is when Sam and I really started to bond. We kind of had to considering our other roommate Lauren went home to do her internship. With the start of spring semester freshman year I went Queens to meet Sam's brother and from then on we became best of friends. This is when I began to separate myself from Nadie and our other friends. I didn't intentionally do it, I just kind of did… Sam and I did everything together: Woke up and went to class, went to the lobby to do work, ate dinner, went to the gym, and hung out in Queens. Then we thought, hey why don't we move in together, get an apartment”? An apartment fell into our laps after meeting with a realtor who was a family friend of Sam’s. This past summer we moved in.

It was now sophomore year first semester and I unfortunately was still a LIM college.  I was in the process of transferring because I finally decided I wanted to go to school for physical therapy and personal training. This is when I noticed I really wasn't myself. I blamed it on the stress of trying to find a college in New York City to transfer to, but even after I found out I was accepted into Hunter College my state of unhappiness still continued. When Naudie came to stay at our house, she brought my depression to my attention.  We were having a little girl time (Sam, Naudie and I), laying on the futon when Naudie compared me to Gollum. If you don't know who Gollum is he is a character from the Lord of the rings - a little creepy, scraggly cave dweller. She was so right! I was depressed. All I ever wanted to do was go to the gym, then come home put on my PJ’s and post up on the couch. So great, I knew I was depressed, but WHY? I’d gotten in the Hunter College, what was wrong? After Nadia got situated and moved off of our futon I realized how much I missed having her my life – we began hanging out every weekend and I found this to be the only time I was truly happy. I began to resent living with Sam. Everything she did annoyed me. My thoughts were “You don’t make me happy, Naudie makes me happy, so fuck you”. We would not talk for days on end except for a “hi, goodbye, I'm leaving, see you later”. There was this thick asphyxiating energy filling the house.

A week before the night of March 26^th, 2012 I was on my way to work when I called my mom to check in, you know see what she was up to. All of a sudden I went off. I broke down into tears explaining with bated breath how I felt like Hunter College wasn't going to get me where I wanted to go. Monday, two days later I called my mom upset, almost in tears. I told her how I hated Sam and needed to moved out. In the midst of our conversation my mom brought up Daemen College, which is a private school back home in Buffalo probably 10 minutes away from my house. It's really well known for its physical therapy program; we had talked about it when I was looking to transfer schools in the first place, but I brushed it off. There was no way I was moving back to Buffalo. How do you go from NYC to Buffalo? This time when she said it I took it differently. Maybe the answer to my problems was right underneath my nose this whole time. I wasn't happy, I wasn't making friends at school because I wasn't happy, I totally neglected Sam because I wasn’t happy, maybe New York City isn't right for me right now. This enlightening phone conversation occurred quite literally 5 hours before the fight. I was so confused; I’d think about it and dissolve into tears. If I left, was I a failure? Was I one of those kids that went away to college, couldn’t handle it and had to come crawling back home to mommy, and daddy? Continuing to think, when I came to college back in the summer of 2010 I was not stable. I left in the height of my Bulimia. My mom had just learned about my disorder (a year and a half after it began) and I had been talking to someone about it for a month at most. I struggled with the Bulimia, and anorexia in tandem my whole freshman year and most of first semester this year.

 I am proud to announce it has been a solid 5 months since I’ve thrown up, but I still battle with food to this day. I think in my heart of hearts I’ve known I should go to Daemen since wanting to transfer for physical therapy, but the thought of going home and possibly returning to my bulimic ways scared the living day light out of me. I thought coming to college would fix my problem, but you can’t conquer what you don’t confront. Maybe this is what I need. Maybe I need to go home and work on the problems I have been struggling with.

But back to Sam and our fight; all of these thoughts had been racing around in my head, I had just figured out what was wrong, why I was sad. As soon as I walked in the door, Sam asked what is going on, and so began the confrontation. I hadn’t had time to process all these thoughts and information, so I was caught off guard and at a loss for words. I couldn’t explain my actions to her. I mean I was probably going home after this semester, that a lot to take in!

         Things are back to normal and everything is at peace. She’s moving in with two of our friends and me well I going back. Yesterday we spent a good hour reminiscing about the good times we’ve had. From this experience (my almost two year life in The Big Apple) I know for a fact everything happens for a reason. I’ve met some amazing people, ones that I will hold in my heart for the rest of my life, and I’ve matured in ways I can’t even express. As for you New York, you’ll be here if I choose to come back.

My story isn’t ending, it’s just beginning; I’ll keep ya posted

XoXo- Amanda Limardi

Pucker Up!

      I've gone back and forth whether or not to disclose to the public the length of my drought of the kissing sort (#AmandaLimardiProblems). After much delegation I said screw it! I really don't care who knows. People it has been over a year.... YES A YEAR. This is not okay what am I a nun? I might as well be, who goes a year without macking it with someone besides the socially awkward and the societal outcasts.... oh wait that sort of is me. Well enough is enough! I plan on going on a kissing frenzy. I should invest in some chap stick. I am at a new school - a school brimming with available men. 

      First on my to kiss list (yes I have compiled one) is a boy I have nicknamed "Jacob Black" because his resemblance to the sexy werewolf is uncanny. I would totally post a picture of him on here (because I have snuck shots of him) but if we do become an friends and he so happens to see this I would be go down as that creepy stalker girl and I don’t want that. I actually have mutual friends with this stud muffin and plan on being introduced in the near future. I have been seeing him everywhere at school. One day I was coming up the escalator and "BAM" there he was, nearly knocked the breath right out of my flat chest! If looking at someone extremely sexy could get you pregnant I 'd be carrying his child. Our eyes met and mine continued to gawk long after he pressed on to his next destination. I was headed in to the west building, him to the east. Since I have no friends, who did I text immediately to gush about the encounter? Wendy of course, our conversation went as follows:

Me: "Come up the elevator and who do I see? Jacob Black... it's destiny"

Wendy: "Now you need to introduce yourself!! Can't waste these opportunities"

Me: "I know!!!! We were headed in diff directions him the east building, me the west...like the sunset. How romantic"

Wendy: You are so cute"

      I am cute sickeningly so! I am like a five year old; I mean I sleep with a pillow pet, and I’m 19 (I regret nothing). Come and get me boys…

Any who today, well tonight marks the turn around! Amanda Limardi is back on the prowl! First step: leave apartment other than to go to the gym and school. I am fully prepared to kiss a lot of frogs in order to find a prince charming, or at least a “man of the moment”!

Thought of the Day

If "actions speak louder than words" how do people have indiscriminate sex? Sex is supposed to be the greatest expression of love - we have no problem getting into people's pants, yet struggle to say those "three little words".

A Note to My High School Self

Class President, Co-Captain of the Swim Team, National Honors Society VP, lead in the musical, New York City bound? Looks as if you've got it all together. As a more mature (I use mature loosely) and experienced "you" I feel it is my duty to inform you (regretfully) that despite what you believe you know absolutely nothing about what is to come. College  (arguably the most frightening word in a high school student's limited vocabulary) will inevitably be the greatest 4, plus years of your young life - run towards it full force no matter how much the thought of leaving home panics you. It often goes that things are much more scary in thought than in reality. Study hard, make friends, and really think about what it is you want to do in the future because the whole transferring process is beyond stressful - gray hair inducing. The last and perhaps most important nugget of knowledge I can provide you with is "Be who you are, not who people want you to be or who you think people want you to be"- Harlen Cohen. The true you is pretty damn great. Now go take the city by storm.