MSI Press Blog

  Excerpt from The Optimistic Food Addict by Dr. Christina Fisanick. Lovely in My Bones (part 1)                            I remember well wanting to be the woman Theodore Roethke knew. She was “lovely in her bones.” I am not sure that I knew what he meant when I first encountered those lines. In fact, I think back then, around fifth grade, I misunderstood entirely. Trained to understand beauty and worth by the media and American culture from the moment my eyes could see, I figured Roethke meant that this woman was physically stunning—slender, sleek, and, well, skeletal. I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to BE her. But even more, I wanted someone to feel that way about me, to wax poetically over my face and form, but I believed that my body—fat, frumpy, and flabby—would never give rise to such melodic praise.           ...

  Binge eating and overeating can be a problem for almost anyone over the holidays. Author Dr. Christina Fisanick Greer knows all about unhealthy relationships with food. Her book, The Optimistic Food Addict, brings insight and support for those suffering from binge eating disorder but also for anyone who at times eats too much  Chapter Eighteen: Dancing with the Dragon              The fever started the day after Christmas, and by December 28, I was out of commission entirely—struck down by the flu. I could barely sleep, but that’s all I wanted to do. My throat hurt, my head hurt, my back hurt. My entire body was alive with peculiar aches and painful spasms.              By the time I started feeling somewhat functional, I still had no appetite and, worse yet, no sense of smell or taste. This predicament gave me a good opportunity to put to rest a curiosity ...

  THIS EXCERPT FROM THE OPTIMISTIC FOOD ADDICT SEEMS APPROPRIATE FOR WHAT MANY PEOPLE ARE EXPERIENCING FROM THE "QUARANTINE FIFTEEN" COUNTRY-WIDE AVERAGE POUNDS GAINED OVER THE PAST YEAR.              For a good half an hour before falling asleep, I would try to force my mind to coerce my body to burn itself alive. I hated my fat so much that I would imagine it sizzling like bacon in a skillet, dripping like hot wax off my bones and into the ether. I was determined to will my fat to melt away.              The next morning I would wake up, disappointed to find my thighs and ass still too big to fit comfortably in my third-hand Jordache jeans. And later that night, I’d lay prone in my bed, visually imagining my flesh liquefying in my skin once again.              This dour wishful thinking would go on n...

The following excerpt comes from Dr. Fisanick's book, The Optimistic Food Addict (Chapter 6):               The roads were thick with ice the night I told my parents I was pregnant. My boyfriend and I broke the news to my mother first, as we sat on that old, gold couch in the living room, waiting for my dad to get home from the midnight shift.               My mother, who had been a teen mother herself, was disappointed, probably because she knew the hard road ahead of me. She wanted me out, and she was sure my dad would feel the same.               I had just turned seventeen and was in my senior year of high school. I was an underachieving Honors student. I stopped caring about school the day I met my neighbor’s blond haired, blue-eyed best friend. And there I sat next to him, five months pregnant ...