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Bulimic Nation

June 13, 2013

Many years ago, (long before making the acquaintance of the lovely lady who is now my spouse), I was in that proverbial hell known as the dating world. A world in which I admittedly do not belong, mostly because of the modern perception of dating. Which for the most part consists of: “Lets go hang out at somebody’s house, drink till we don’t care and screw.” Ah it’s so romantic and magical to awake reeking of cheap liquor and vomit with a stranger.

Being a little old fashioned, in the sense of getting to know a person with dinner and a movie, I didn’t get out much. However, for a short while during this time there were a rare few who liked to get to know a person before climbing in bed with them. Of those few, one happened to suffer from the psychological disorder bulimia.

Bulimia (for the uneducated masses) is the act of binging— gorging oneself on foodstuffs— followed by purging, self-induced vomiting or excessive abuse of laxatives.

It’s not the sort of thing you find out right away. “Hi, my name is Cindy. I work as a legal aide. I enjoy long walks on the beach, old movies, candle lit dinners and forcing myself to vomit right after them.” You’re not gonna hear that on the first date. But eventually you do find out...usually not in a good way.

The young woman in question seemed happy, healthy and had a vivacious appetite. During our short tenure, each outing would include a visit to a fine dining establishment. Being a gentleman (of sorts) the check would always find its way to my side of the table. Her multiple trips to the rest room during said meals were looked upon by me as her being either irregular or very regular. It did seem that she pooped a lot though.

It all came out on our last date...literally. Following two helpings of dessert she excused herself and disappeared. A half hour passed and figuring she had dined and dashed I went to pay the check. It was at this point my attention was drawn to the women’s rest room, or rather the crowd of patrons and wait staff by the door. Pushing through I found her collapsed in a stall with $20 worth of undigested desserts splattered in the toilet. Getting her up, making excuses, helping her regain consciousness, followed by a silent ride home. Her secret was out and thus our relationship came to an abrupt close, by her own admission.

Binge and purge. It seems like a fairly logical concept. To reap the benefits of indulging ones palette and not suffer unwanted weight gain. Yes, immediate satisfaction without regard to the long term consequences. Not a very healthy lifestyle for any individual let alone for an entire nation.

Our country binges on an increasingly constant rate. Devouring resources, finances and the world itself. How many of us are not in debt? And yet despite our own dilemmas many choose to try to bring others up to a higher standard of living, so that we may all share in an equality that is pure fiction.

It is not a matter of race or status but rather a dividing line for those who try and those who try not to. Oh, we all want to binge but who takes on the extra weight? Who is forced to carry the burden of financial and mental calories obtained?

In the meanwhile an increasingly staggering number simply purge and leave the responsibilities of life in the toilet. Maybe it’s time to try something new.

Perhaps Hollywood has found an answer in the latest thriller The Purge. A simple idea really, an annual event in which for 12 hours anything goes. No laws, no penalties and no regrets. Just think, the country’s trash could literally be taken out in one night...or would it? Who would eventually remain? The strongest? The smartest? Or the most psychotic? That is the questionable variable in that open-ended solution which doesn’t work as well as one might think.

But while you’re thinking, if you’re of a mind that a purge sounds exceptional consider this: where would YOU really be on that night? Cowering in you house, patrolling your property or out on the prowl? Eventually you’ll come to the realization that purging is not a solution. Instead maybe it falls to a need for moderation.

I welcome all questions, comments, and column suggestions, via Focus, or e-mail me at my new email address–

Hope to hear from ya, until then try and stay focused. See ya.



Warning: This Article May Contain Nuts!


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