She hates it; she loves it; she keeps her covenant silent
Their addiction holds a spell over them which acts as some powerful secret at the center of everything they do.
The serious eater listens to others talking of diets, Weight Watchers, exercises; she hears them excitedly comparing pounds lost, pounds gained.
She hears them encouraging each other, joking, consoling.
She is not one of them.
She knows the diets better than they do; she knows Weight Watchers is useless for her; she knows her life is on some
Almighty Scale that she has to step on alone.
She is in some covenant with food a covenant which she probably does not understand, but which nevertheless exerts some magical, compelling power over her.
She hates it; she loves it; she keeps her covenant silent.
Serious drinkers are like serious eaters or serious noneaters.
They are like serious drug-addicts.
Their addiction holds a spell over them which acts as some powerful secret at the center of everything they do.
The serious eater listens to others talking of diets, Weight Watchers, exercises; she hears them excitedly comparing pounds lost, pounds gained.
She hears them encouraging each other, joking, consoling.
She is not one of them.
She knows the diets better than they do; she knows Weight Watchers is useless for her; she knows her life is on some
Almighty Scale that she has to step on alone.
She is in some covenant with food — a covenant which she probably does not understand, but which nevertheless exerts some magical, compelling power over her.
She hates it; she loves it; she keeps her covenant silent. ~Marion Woodman, Addiction to Perfection, Page 11
