When I was a kid, I really didn't know we were poor. Most kids don't. I had a mother, father and siblings. We ate just fine, usually what was brought home from the restaurant mom worked at (that seemed like a treat, really), or whatever Dad had hunted (again, never a complaint there - still love wild game). I remember when I started kindergarden, I used to go to the neighbors to wait for the bus because both of my parents left for work early. My dad left for work at like 5 am. I can remember him waking me up at about 4:30 to brush my hair and put me back to bed. I had really long curly hair and my little arms couldn't reach that far. He'd brush my hair and wrap it in a towel so it would stay nice. My mother hated my hair and refused to brush it, so my dad did it. I remember sitting there and trying to hide the sound of my stomach growling. The neighbors, who also were our "daycare" during the summer and after school are actually now my step-grandparents. Well, Grandpa could hear my stomach growling one morning and made me an egg and a piece of toast. I'd never had an egg like that! I'd never sopped up the yolk with my toast like he did! This was cool! And I felt better! Lunch of course was at school and dinner with the family. My mother never thought to feed her 5 year old breakfast. She never forgot to eat herself, though. After a few years, my parents divorced and we kids were left with our mother. My mother's first act of vengeance against my father was to take me to a hair stylist and cut off all my hair. She even said "let's see what he thinks of his little girl now". I cried. She spanked me. My dad cried too. I grabbed some of my hair and shoved it in my pocket as it fell from my head. He still to this day has that lock of my hair from that haircut. As time went on, my mother still didn't provide breakfast. There wasn't really food in the house. We usually sustained on rice, instant mashed potatoes made with water instead of milk, and popcorn. All 3 of which I still don't eat to this day. She worked at a restaurant, so she ate there. Many times, she'd come home and take my sisters out to dinner, leaving me at home. I remember coming home sick from school one day. I had thrown up all over the place after lunch. My grandpa took me home and I went in the shower and he went to get me a change of clothes. He asked me where all my clothes were. I told him I didn't really have any. He called his wife (she worked at the department store in town) and told her. She came home with underwear and socks and some shirts and pants for me. Boy was my mom mad at me.

I started babysitting for the lady down the road when I was about 11. She used to feed me and even gave me some clothes. She would just happen to have stuff that wouldn't fit her (she was a larger lady) but she was sure that would fit me. Amazingly it did. I didn't realize it then, but she was going out and buying things and hanging them in her closet and would ask me to help her clean her closet. Pretty much whatever money I made babysitting, my mother would take. She said she needed it. Just like when she would send me to beg my dad for the child support check. I was in my ratty hand-me-down clothes. But she had a new outfit to go out in that night with her friends. My sisters found their ways out. One sister went to stay with my dad. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere. I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone. I wasn't old enough to decide.

My other sister pretty much ran away. She had older friends and she was always with them. Sometimes they would take me too and get me something to eat and make me feel like I was wanted. I was sick a lot, mostly from being malnourished, but I also had medical problems that weren't attended to. My sister's friend used to wrap me in blankets on their couch and sing to me until I fell asleep. That lasted for a little while - by 14 my sister was pregnant.

I remember my mother dragging me out of bed at 3am on a school night to go find my sister at some random guys' house. She was a wildchild and who knew where we might find her. My mother would drive and I would have to go knock on doors at 3am and drag my sister out of strange mens beds. All she was looking for was a warm meal and some comfort. My sister got pregnant. I got grounded. The day my mother found out my sister was pregnant (she was 7 months along and hiding it from no one but my mother - everyone knew) I got grounded and my sister went to a party. She was in a car accident and nearly killed herself AND the baby.

I knew at this point I had to get out of there for my own survival. When I was babysitting one night, I used the phone there to call my dad. I told him EVERYTHING. He told me to go home and not say anything to my mom, he was going to think of something. He came and saw me at school a couple days later and told me to pack my things and he would pick me up from school and take me home the next day. I did what he said and packed my bookbag and a paper grocery bag - that was all of my belongings. He told my mother he was taking me and she could try to sue him but he'd turn her in for child abuse and neglect. She still tried to fight him.

I went and stayed with another family (my best friend) while this was going on. They're still my family today. Eventually I went to stay with my dad. I was in shock really. There was always food in the house. I ate everything I could see. I wasn't sure how long the food was going to be there so I tried to take in as much as I could. I gained a lot of weight. After some time, I did come to the realization that the food would just always be there, so I didn't binge anymore. That was my battle with food.

Living at my dad's house was a dream compared to my mothers - but it still wasn't an ideal situation. My step-mom, who, is only 9 years older than me had a very hard time coming to terms with having teenage daughters. She's a very selfish person - admittedly so - and that's why she never had children of her own. Over the years, my sisters have caused some pretty serious upheavals in the family - leaving me kindof as collateral damage. It is what it is - but I would love to have my family back whole. I've worked on that a lot - and I've made a lot of headway

I remember a lot of mornings I would be so very nauseous and I would vomit. My stepmom thought I was faking - or was trying bulimia. She'd search my room for laxatives and of course find nothing - well - once she found cigarettes *oops* She was convinced I was on drugs. I never did drugs. Anyway - we butted heads, but we see pretty eye-to-eye these days. I moved out the day before graduation from high school. I was on my own and never looked back.

Over the years, I battled my weight a bit - my doctor told me that the malnourishment as a child into puberty really wreaked havoc on my endocrine system. But its also why I wasn't diagnosed with Wilsons Disease until I was 30. Myst people are dead by 30 if undiagnosed. But because half of my life I wasn't getting what for most would be proper nutrition, my liver never built up enough copper to show symptoms. Probably all in all a good thing, because I wouldn't have received medical attention in my mothers "care".

I always came out on top in the weight battle - at least until I was diagnosed with Wilson's. Then I was battling steroids and being pretty much bed-ridden.

I'm totally afraid of being hungry - all those thoughts from when I was a kid come back. I've been able to diet before, where, sure I felt hungry, but I knew I could eat more. My sisters both have that fear as well - when they had kids, they bought so much baby food, they ended up giving literally hundreds of jars to the food bank each after their kids were out of the baby food stage. They never wanted their kids to go hungry. When I found out I couldn't have kids, I was more relieved than sad. I was afraid that I might be a monster like my mother was. I know that we all control our own behavior, but it was still a fear inside me. I never thought I was cut out to be a parent - at least not of a young child. I have a very thin patience level - not so much with kids - at least not with my nieces and nephews, godchildren, etc. But its a fear, nonetheless.

I still have a relationship with my mother. I've forgiven, but not forgotten those things. She doesn't quite remember the past that way - she thinks she was a "pretty good mom". I just stay silent. Its not going to do any good to bring it up to her now. She's pretty much put herself one foot in the grave. I've come to terms with that and with her.

But the fear of being hungry is still in the back of my mind. I believe that I could lose all this weight after having the adrenal tumors removed without surgery. But It would be so damned hard to be so damned hungry all the time, I'm not sure what it would do to me psychologically. I don't ever want to have that kind of hunger again. I still remember what it feels like. I see some pictures of me as a little girl and my eyes are so sunken in. I'm emaciated and just....sad.

That's part of the reason I gained so much weight. Along with the steroids packing on the pounds, they increased the feeling of hunger. I totally felt exactly like I did as a little kid and ate everything in sight.

I didn't help my already negative situation. I added to it. I increased the amount of weight i gained because I was afraid of feeling that feeling I did as a kid. I don't wanna do that again.

The sleeve is my tool. Its the tool I've chosen to not have to go through that again. Its not necessarily the food that has the power over me, but part of my past. I know food is an issue because of the hunger, but its about making the right choices and not letting the past get to me.

I'm working on that every day. I never really talked about this much until after I met my husband. We talked about it and then I've talked about it since. My sisters and I have talked to eachother about what happened when we were kids too.