But, before you do, watch the video for my boobie scoop.

My first experience with yoga was in high school. My voice teacher was a dedicated yogini and tried to encourage me to attend classes to help free my voice. “You will love it, your voice will soar!” she’d say. But I was 15, and yoga to me was stupid. I don’t need yoga to free up my voice, I thought. I already sound good and the Metropolitan Opera will be calling me any day now. However, I took a few classes anyway, and not shockingly, I still didn’t see the point. Men and women pretzeled themselves into weird positions and then just stayed there doing nothing but focusing on their “breath”. I was not impressed at all. Not to mention the positions were uncomfortable! It just seemed like self-imposed torture. And booooring, it was so boring.

A few years later I was deep into my eating disorder. Nothing else mattered. No longer concerned with whether the Met would ever call I focused on food and my body. Yoga had a new appeal because it seemed to me, that only the skinny girls did it. Therefore, if I did yoga, I would become a skinny girl too. The “Oms”, positions, and breathing still had no value to me, but I didn’t care because it was going to help me on my quest to thinness. Once I could effortlessly transition into a headstand, and be light as a feather, I would have met my goal, even if I had to force my body to do it. But the headstand never came, only a lot of head & neck pain.

In 2000 I gave yoga another try. I had begun my recovery with my eating disorder and found that I had a lot questions about myself I needed to explore. A friend suggested I come to a class with her. “This will be different, I promise you”, she said.  And it was.

The people in the class were all shapes and sizes. The teacher said “take one position at a time and just do what you can do, there is no wrong. It’s not a competition so check your ego at the door and focus on yourself. Yoga is for every body.” And from that class on I was hooked. The classes became about me, how I felt and what I could do. I was no longer comparing myself to others or chasing an unattainable ideal. As soon as I gave up all that “stuff” in my head yoga opened up a whole new world for me. Not only am I physically stronger, have increased my stamina & longevity and alleviated injury, but it’s an emotional release for me. During yoga, I am 1000% completely tuned into myself. Sometimes it’s euphoric. And sometimes I cry. But I always, always feel better.

Tomorrow I begin a 200 hour Yoga Teacher Training program, seven intense weekends of yoga from 8am to 8pm. I am incredibly excited, but also very nervous. Yoga has a way of showing you yourself in the most intimate way. It should be a very interesting journey, and I am ready.

Have you ever tried something you didn’t like only for it to appear in your life a new way later?

There was a system. I had a system. I couldn’t just be one of those crazy bulimics that snuck down to the kitchen in the middle of the night to binge and purge. That was too messy and way too gross for me. Besides, what if there was nothing in the refrigerator that I wanted to binge on? Talk about annoying. So, I had a system. It was an expensive system, but that’s a whole other topic. When I think about all the money I spent on food that I only wasted, it makes me sick (no pun intended). The system was quite elaborate and depended on whether I was alone, what was in the refrigerator, did I have plans later that day, how much money did I have to spend, how much time would I have for the actual purge? All questions that needed to be answered beforehand so that I got it right. The only thing that could never be planned was how my body would react and whether it would actually stick to the plan.

It was a Saturday, so I had the whole day to do whatever I pleased. Days like that excited me because it meant that my binge would be pressure free. I didn’t have to be anywhere or talk to anyone, it would just be me and my misery. I was living alone which made things quite easy. Images of all the different food danced in my head as I counted my money to make sure I had enough. By this time, I had already learned (the hard way) which foods worked for me and which did not. By “worked” I don’t mean taste or flavor, sure it helps to like what you’re binging on, but most important was the texture and how easy it was to bring back up. Today there are internet sites that can help you with all this, but back then it was all trial and error. One wrong food down that won’t come back up is a bulimic’s worst nightmare, and I have lots of those stories. And today would be one of them. When I think about how I rationalized things back then, it seems crazy, but yet I can honestly remember feeling like it all made sense to me. Since I had the entire day to myself, I could go out on a limb and get some of those “off limit” foods because I had all day to try and bring them back up! Eventually they would have to come out, right?

First thing was an order to the Chinese food place. I made sure to order some food with broccoli in there just in case. If it doesn’t come back up, at least the broccoli is healthy! Delivery was going to take about 30 minutes so I got dressed and headed out to the corner store & diner. I got milk, water, doughnuts, cake, egg & bacon sandwich, home fries, pretzels & butter. These places carried no-no food that I previously had a lot of trouble with bringing back up, BUT today was going to be different for sure!

I made it back to my apartment in time for the Chinese food delivery guy. The order cost about $30, all my groceries $25, equaled a total binge worth $55. And this was only one binge. At my worst I got up to about 6-7 a day and had to make multiple trips to the supermarket.

Next up, was the ambiance. I needed everything set up and sprawled out so I could pick & eat freely, phone was turned off, pager was off (remember beepers?!), blinds pulled down, and TV on with a good program to keep me company.

And then I ate. And ate. And ate. I ate until my stomach looked like I was 7 months pregnant and it hurt to breathe from the pressure. This was the worst part. The euphoria of eating was wearing off and now I had to get it all out of me before any damage was done. I was not one of those “lucky” bulimics, I couldn’t just make myself throw up instantly (that would come months later), I had to work at it and it was painful. “Oh G-d, why did I do this again? Please oh please let it all come up this time!” And to the bathroom I would go to try to complete the ritual.

Depending on what was coming up, sometimes it splattered, so I had gotten in to the habit of taking all my clothes off and pulling back my hair. My nails should have been cut beforehand, but they hadn’t been. I had to be careful not to scratch the back of my throat (did I mention I was a singer?)

And so it began, first with a few fingers, and then soon an entire hand pushed back into my mouth and down my throat. Think it’s impossible to fit the entire hand? It’s possible. I pounded on my stomach with my left hand and I tried to shove my right hand deeper down my throat to make everything come up. This was a big binge so it would take a while. I knew everything that had gone inside of me, so I had to make sure it was all accounted for on its way out, nothing could be left behind.

45 minutes and 2 breaks later I still wasn’t done. Where were the doughnuts? What happened to the pretzels? I knew this would happen. Bread products were the worst because they turned into a thick pasty gluey mess in the stomach and were the hardest to bring back up. If taken in with the right amount of liquid, it could be ok, but this time my proportions were all wrong and now I was stuck.

The pounding on my stomach got harder and I tried to manipulate my gag reflex with precision. I stopped to give myself pep talks “you can do this”, “keep going” “you have to get it all out, you sick fuck!”

But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t all come up. I sat on the floor crying and trying to make a deal with G-D. “Please get me through this and bring it all up and I’ll never do it again. This is the last time, I promise.” And I truly did feel that way at the time, I wanted so bad for it to be the last time. My throat was sore, my face was swollen and my knuckles were cut from hitting the back of my teeth. The party was over and it was time to retreat.

Walking back into my living room I couldn’t even look at the mess I had left behind. Everything got dumped into the trash just like it never happened. And if I pretended hard enough, it didn’t. Next came a hot shower, always good for some imagined cleansing of the soul.

Binges this large made me sleepy, so I crawled into bed and clicked on the TV. A rerun of 90210, perfect. And before I Donna could lose her virginity, I was in la-la-land, sleeping my binge off.

By the time I awoke it was evening. My throat was incredibly sore. I had 4 messages on my machine and a bunch of pages. Funny how the sicker I got, the more invitations to parties I received. To me it was obviously complete validation that I was not really sick, but rather doing what was necessary.

What to do tonight? I thought. Meet the crew at the party going on or stay home and relax? I pretended to think about it, but I had already made up my mind.

There were still half eaten doughnuts, cake & a carton of Chinese food in the trash. I couldn’t possibly let that all go to waste.

So, I’ve decided to write my NaNoWriMo here, to share with you, if you choose to read. I thought about keeping a journal, doing a separate blog, or not sharing it at all…but recently, someone suggested I should do something uncomfortable, and be open to putting myself out there even if it makes me feel sick. So here it is! In the spirit of NaNoWriMo, I will be writing here for the 30 days, however, it will not be a fiction novel. They will be stories, true stories from my life when I was bulimic. Some of the stories might be graphic, and you may not want to read, and that’s ok, but this is what I am choosing to write about. These are days that I have never shared with anyone and after 9 years of recovery, feel the need to get them out, because they will forever be a part of who I am.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Writing starts November 1st.

My eating disordered past was filled with shame & secrets. I hid and I lied so that others wouldn’t see the “real” me. It was a recipe for disaster that eventually would always send me spiraling into more self-hatred and sadness. So during my recovery, one of the promises I made to myself was that I would never hide who I was from people. Like me, love me or hate me – I can only be me.

I had mentioned in previous posts that after the New York City marathon (last November) I went into a 5 month slump. I didn’t revert back to my old ED ways, but I basically just stopped working out and allowed myself free range of the refrigerator. My body needed a break and I was more than happy to oblige. It wasn’t like I went into to crazy binge mode, on the contrary, I just gave myself permission to enjoy eating whatever I wanted and allowed my daily exercise to take a backseat to sleeping in. And that was all great. Sometimes we NEED breaks, we NEED time to recover, and we NEED to cut ourselves some slack. But what I didn’t NEED and neglected to mention to all of you, was that a 30lb. weight gain came with it and I have been struggling with it ever since. So I am coming clean with you because I feel like I have been hiding behind “Fitarella” and you deserve my being honest with you as you all have been with me. I have been back in the gym for the past few months making slow & steady progress, but I’m tired of keeping that secret. It weighs too much.

Today I visited with my nutrition and training coach that I’ve been working on and off with since 2005. She isn’t just your average nutritionist & trainer, she is a Physique Transformation Engineer. I lovingly refer to her as “the Guru” because the woman knows her stuff, she gets down to the nitty-gritty, and knows the science to back it up. We came up with a plan to get me back on track. I have goals for 2010 that I will only be able to achieve with a lot of hard work, dedication, and your support, so I will be chronicling my daily journey here. In the meantime, I will be attending the Olympia in Vegas in exactly 30 days, so my immediate focus is on that. I don’t expect any huge changes in 30 days, but I’d like to just go there FEELING GOOD in my own skin.

So my friends, that’s my story. Fitarella is struggling too. And I hope I have your support.

Get yours HERE!!!