Kate Spade’s Death

While in my sophomore year of college, I binged compulsively around the clock, gaining 80 pounds in six months. I never slept – I just ate. I hated myself and every bone in my body. I hated life and finally, absolutely miserable, dropped out of school. And as much as I despised the home I grew up in, I felt so defeated I crawled back there, miserably.

I had a classmate that sophomore year who embodied everything I wanted to be – Elizabeth Morris was smart, interesting, open-minded, beloved and beautiful. She seemed to have the perfect, loving nuclear family. If you’d asked me who I wanted to be (certainly not myself!), without pause, I would have quickly and easily answered, “Elizabeth Morris.”

Elizabeth killed herself that summer, after apparently attempting suicide three previous times.

It astonished me that I, who felt I had and was nothing, still had the strong will to live and she, who looked to have everything, lived in so much pain she chose death.

I prayed then, and do to this day, that Elizabeth Morris finally knows peace, wherever she is.

Today, the great designer Kate Spade apparently committed suicide, leaving behind a husband of many years and a 13 year old daughter. I can’t imagine what pain she knew that lead her to that end.

I’d always actually envied Kate Spade. She’s a few month older than I, and I often compared my meager life to her ‘fabulous’ existence.

Kate Spade was so successful (her company sold for 175 million dollars! in 2007); she had a long marriage; she was soo cool and creative and interesting and seminal – who didn’t have a Kate Spade bag or at least a knockoff? Here I was a single, college dropout, struggling financially and working odd jobs. Life would grand, I assumed, if I were Kate Spade.

And, of course, Kate Spade was skinny. Back when I weighed 230 pounds and was the least cool person that ever existed, I knew for sure that Kate Spade had it all. What a life.

Apparently, I was wrong. I’m still here, living life and full of hope. She’s gone.

I pray for young Frances Beatrix Spade. And may the great Kate rest in peace.

Working with Food

Working around food has actually been harder than I expected. I’m pretty surprised, and kind of disappointed. Everything with food had felt so perfect for so long – this really is unexpected.

I work long days, in and around the kitchen and notice a fair amount of inadvertent food going into my mouth — a few french fries, soup, the mis-fired steak…And there’s a big vat of my absolute favorite chocolate chip mint ice cream right in front of me.

Also, the staff eats meals together. My shifts are long enough that they incorporate lunch and dinner. And it’s free. I’ve been living on such a tight budget since I quit my last job – anything free seems incredibly inviting.

Prior to this job, my current way of eating was strong and served me perfectly for quite some time. My rhythm’s just off. It’s just not working. Food feels a little out of control.

Because, let’s face it – by nature, I’m a food addict. Food will always be much more intriguing to me than the normal eater. If I don’t nip this in the bud, I’m going to be miserable.

As I said in an earlier post, even though I’m running around constantly, I’m clearly not burning calories. My pants are getting tighter. I’m feeling uncomfortably full. I’m never really hungry anymore.

I’m not happy. Time to jump back on board with my ‘normal’ eating, which makes me very, very happy.

P.S. I may not be thrilled with my food consumption BUT I’m still loving my job. Woo Hoo