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Boney & I Anorexia, Ustrasana and the Lost Apple Core

Boney & I Anorexia, Ustrasana and the Lost Apple Core

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Boney & I Anorexia, Ustrasana and the Lost Apple Core

3.5/5 (2 valutazioni)
139 pagine
1 ora
Jan 13, 2013


“Boney & I: Anorexia, Ustrasana and the Lost Apple Core,” is a true story of a young woman’s successful battle to overcome anorexia.

Lou and ‘Boney’—the voice inside Lou that makes her starve herself—embark on a journey together that takes them across the world in search of an elusive ‘paradise’. But the real journey is within.

Through a whole-hearted dedication to yoga and meditation, Lou finds her truth and rediscovers a passion for life. As she develops inner stillness and self-acceptance, will Lou ever liberate Boney from her prison of self-torment and hatred?
Together, Lou and Boney have written this astonishing, frank and inspiring memoir.

Jan 13, 2013

Informazioni sull'autore

Lou gained a B.A. (Hons.) in International Business and Spanish from Liverpool John Moores University, England. She also studied fashion, journalism and business at the London College of Fashion, and has a Masters degree in Fashion, Marketing and Communication from The Istituto Europeo di Design in Madrid. Lou is a dedicated yoga practitioner, and a qualified yoga teacher, having completed yoga teacher training at the Evolation Yoga, Buffalo, New York. She has also studied Ananda meditation in Sierra Nevada, California, and is a qualified Ananda meditation teacher. She is also a Zen Thai Shiatsu Massage Therapist, trained by Gwyn Williams at the Mount Ninderry Healing Centre on the Sunshine Coast of Australia. Her passions are yoga, travel, fashion and writing. She is constantly exploring the wonders of the world. She loves to blog, eat chocolate cake, and share the joys of life with others.

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Anteprima del libro

Boney & I Anorexia, Ustrasana and the Lost Apple Core - Lou Stokes

Chapter 1

Child’s Pose

"Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass;

it’s about learning to dance in the rain."

We lived in this beautiful Victorian house. The typical English family—mum and dad, two children, big house, big garden, nice car. I was an adventurous little girl, always up to something. I loved running, jumping, dancing—anything that got me moving. Mum would leave me playing in the garden for hours. One day she accidently locked me outside, but I didn’t care; it was great. I savoured those solitary moments. Singing and dancing around the garden, I began to make a tiara out of roses from mum’s prize rosebush. All of a sudden I felt an intense energy all around me. I was a little bit anxious but also excited. I looked up into the sky and saw darkness in the distance—black, heavy clouds coming straight at me. The intensity was incredible. I felt as if something was dragging me down.

The storm had rudely interrupted me whilst I was trying to create mum’s beautiful tiara. Suddenly I saw a bright light flashing across the sky, cutting the clouds like a knife. Here comes the lightening! I cried, and suddenly it began to pour. The clouds were crying and the raindrops were like giant tears. The intense strike of lightening and the clouds colliding left me deaf. I ran for shelter and hid in the dog kennel, snuggling up to Byron, my adorable border collie, and peeking through the cracks of the kennel. Together, we watched the ferocious storm.

Byron was an amazing dog—so friendly and so humble. He looked at me with his deep brown eyes, and they were like the windows to his soul. I could see so deep inside him. Mum always said we had the same eyes. Butter wouldn’t melt in our mouths, she said.

I couldn’t wait to show mum her tiara—she was going to love it, I knew. If only it would stop raining so I could carry on with my creations—one for her and one for me. I wanted to finish them before she remembered she’d left me outside. The pounding of the rain on the kennel roof felt therapeutic, like a release. I stayed with Byron for a while, but in the end I got itchy feet, so I went back to making my tiaras. There I was, soaking wet in the middle of the garden, cutting up mum’s prize rosebush (the one she was so very proud of) when I heard her calling out my name.

Peaches, where are you? she cried out. Oh my god, I’m so sorry! You’re so wet and cold, and you must be hungry! How could I have locked you out?!

I looked at her with my puppy dog eyes.

Mummy, don’t worry, I didn’t even notice. I’ve been having an amazing time—playing with Byron, pruning your rosebush...

As soon as the word ‘rosebush’ came out of my mouth, her face changed.

Rosebush? she asked, looking closer. What have you done with my precious rosebush? Oh my god, what have you done? Where have all the roses gone?!

I looked up into her anxious face. All the roses were now on my head.

Mummy, look, I’ve made you a tiara! I thought you would like it. And look at mine—isn’t it beautiful? I must admit, I was slightly startled by her anger. Put it on and we’ll look like princesses!

Thankfully, mum just laughed, even if she was a little angry. She gave me a warm smile and a kiss on my forehead. It seemed she couldn’t help but love me.

Never a dull moment with you, my girl.

From that day onwards, storms took on a new meaning for me. They were like a massive spring-clean. A storm would come. A storm would linger. Then it would pass, leaving everything fresh.

We love a storm, but we resist it as well.

I had a more-or-less ‘normal’ childhood. I remember being a bouncy, bubbly, loving young girl. True, my parents split up when I was 11, but I don’t remember it affecting me badly. Dad and my brother stayed in London. I went with mum to the outskirts of London, which seemed to me like the middle of nowhere. We moved to a quaint old farm in the County of Kent. Rolling hills, beautiful landscape.

We were your everyday broken family. Life had its challenges at times, but I was strong—until Boney moved in...

Chapter 2

Boney and Me, Nineteen Years Young

As the tears roll down my cheeks, all I can see is a skeleton.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?

Fat. Skinny. Large. Thin. Small. Wide. Who am I really? A skeleton. My mind says that what I see is big. A very big skeleton.

Every single mirror is a battle. I don’t want to see myself in the mirror—see myself for who I truly am. Boney sees fat and tells me so—but I am merely skin and bones. Someone addicted to starving herself. Addicted to self-destruction. Addicted to toxic relationships. Addicted to bouts of serious binge drinking. Boney and me. It’s a nightmare.

Every day I stare in the mirror, searching carefully for my flaws. How much are my ribs sticking out? Did that apple I ate yesterday add any extra pounds? Do I have a gram of fat on me anywhere? My bones are literally piercing my skin, and all I can think about is how I can lose a little more meat.

Food is like poison. That’s what Boney tells me. Boney says, You’re not thin enough. She tortures me every single day.

I look at myself from every angle. The front. The side. The back. It’s all the same. Everything I see is large. If only my ribs stuck out a bit more, life would be that little bit better. Am I bigger today than yesterday? I ask myself. One kilo less and everything would be okay. If only this. If only that. It’s an obsession. An addiction. A constant battle with this voice inside me. It never goes away. She never goes away. Fucking Boney. She never shuts up.

Chapter 3

I Hate You, Boney

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