then, there was gym class.  the DREADED gym class.  i remember being made to do EXTRA laps around the gym by my sadistic PE teacher....in front of the entire class.  i guess she thought she was helping me....making me get more exercise...but i was singled out.  i was the freaky, fat kid.

to make matters worse, i was put into a program for fat kids at the Children's Hospital.  the hospital was almost 2 hours away...so i would have to leave school early every wednesday (yeah, i still remember exactly what day it was...i dreaded it), and drive to the hospital.  and it was not just my mother and i driving down there....no.....her friend had to bring her fat kid too.  scott.  the spoiled brat from hell.  i spent every wednesday afternoon trying to ignore him.

once we got to the hospital, i was weighed, measured, poked, prodded, questioned ("why didn't you do all of your jumping jacks this week, lisa?"), and if i'd lost weight, i'd get a sticker.  woo hoo.   be still my heart.  to make matters worse, there was a picture of me (and all the other kids in the program) in a BATHING SUIT, pinned to the wall.  yeah, the 'before' picture.  how terribly humiliating.

they put me on this so very strict diet....so many things i was not 'allowed' to touch...my mother made sure that everyone knew that i was 'on a diet'.  "no, no birthday cake for lisa, she's on a diet."  "lisa can't have a cookie, she's on a diet."
i felt deprived,  humiliated, and increasingly angry.

i learned that whenever my parents went out, i could eat.  not only would i eat, i would take food, and hide it under my bed, so i'd be able to eat what i want, when i wanted.  it felt good.  i'd binge,  the forbidden food tasted so so good.  but....guess what happened.  "lisa, how could you have gained weight this week?"  i'd look away, ashamed....not saying a word.  i knew i was 'bad'.  eating was bad.  food was bad.

i binged every chance i could get....the more i'd eat, the guiltier i'd feel....the guiltier i'd feel, the more i'd binge.  one day....my stomach felt so full, i actually felt sick.  so....without going into details, i made myself throw up.  there.  no more calories!!! no more pounds to gain!!!  i felt i'd stumbled on the PERFECT solution.  i couldn't have been happier.

when i was twelve, i began babysitting.  i enjoyed the kids, took good care of them, but couldn't wait til they were in bed.  then, i would raid the cupboards.  i learned to be really sneaky...only taking bits from here and there.  never eating up ALL of anything.  i'd eat everything from stale marshmallows, to frozen hot dogs.   and yeah, i felt ashamed.

the thing was....i was getting rid of what i ate, but still not losing weight.  my mom had eventually given up on taking me to the hospital program.  if i'd gained or stayed the same, she'd be angry at me for the entire week.  i hated myself.  i didn't want to go to school.  i loved school, just hated being picked on.  i had no friends.

i never did lose weight until i was about 18.  i moved away from home, was boarding with a family on the other side of the country, and managing their large dog kennel.  i didn't eat.  i was too ashamed to eat in front of the family.  i binged some, purged some, but i lost weight.  why?  because i was working myself to death.  i had no friends there, either.  was living out in the middle of nowhere...no car...all i had was work.  if i got into town (with the people i was living with), i'd stock up on junk food.  i felt so guilty about it.