For all you lads with eating disorders, or even with phobias, I’m sure you know how frustrating it is when people point it out or bring it to light. Today is my mother’s birthday, so we went to my Nana’s house for a swell family dinner. Now, family dinners were always an awkward situation for me in general and always have been. Adding the fact that I skipped out on last year’s dinner (my brother and I got into a huge fight with her that lead into a huge depression), there was a lot of pressure to make this year a great one. In the beginning of February, my nutritionist and I told my mom about one of my fear foods which happens to be Irish soda bread and requested that she made it before the party so it wouldn’t be so “fresh” to me. Did this happen? No. I came to the conclusion that I didn’t need to do it before hand considering my my mother’s side isn’t to “weird” about me eating fear food. I usually don’t tell them about my fear foods because I know they would add pressure, however, my mom continuously mentioned the Irish soda bread today as though it was “the day”. I told her I didn’t want the pressure as she followed with reassuring comments of saying I didn’t have to eat it at the party and we could take it home to have in the house if I wanted to “munch on it some other time.” Now, I was calm, my thoughts were rational and justified in regards to eating. I only want to enjoy my fear foods. It would have been brilliant to partake in the tradition, but everything went to hell. Cake. The word mum repeatedly used to describe the bread. I didn’t care the first time, but then it was thrown out again and again. Mind you, cake is the first thing I cut out and therefore, my biggest fear food. I didn’t mind this so much, but it just got worse. Nana was emphasizing the amount of sugar she put in. “It has a ton of sugar, so much sugar, its cake, its just like cake.” At this point, everyone was calling it cake. I got thinking, the last time I ate this treat was two years ago when I was rebelling with food and binged on the stuff. I wasn’t even hungry, but I just kept eating and eating. Over all, I decided that tonight, I wasn’t mad at the fact that they labeled it as something it wasn’t, but just the sheer ignorance. I don’t know how many times I catch my parents not understanding the ED. They never educated themselves on it which may or may not shock you. It’s a trend at this point. I pleaded with my mom not to label the bread as cake. (Its labeling a mild fear food with an ultimate fear food.) I find that the majority of my family has very “media-oriented” views on my eating disorder and with food in general. This leads me to correct them in most cases. Despite my plea, all I got was that it “WAS like a cake.” Mind you, all I wanted was to hopefully enjoy this. It became an emphasized pressured mess when Nana got all weirded out that I wasn’t eating dessert (which is odd due to the obvious fact I haven’t had a legitimate dessert in years to which she never bothered.) “Its thin enough, look you CAN eat it.” Hell, I wanted to scream because yes, I CAN eat ANYTHING, but I will do it when there isn’t pressure and it can be a pleasurable experience. I ended up getting up and leaving the dinning room to tear up in the hallway. When I got back, all I did was sit there and tried to be off the radar. Was this good enough? No. I got comments on how quiet I was. Well, lads, here I am, trying to decompress through writing. I’m sorry to rant, but sometimes, it just gets to be too much. Until later, stay mellow, lads.