Is Addiction A Disease — Or A Choice?

The answer, like the disorder, isn’t black and white

I remember the first time I heard the term anorexia nervosa. It was February 4, 1983 — the day Karen Carpenter died. I was quite familiar with her music — there was no mistaking that velvety, sultry voice — but I had no idea she was sick.

In the 1970s, you couldn’t turn the radio dial in your wood-paneled station wagon without stumbling across a song by The Carpenters.

Her death, while tragic, brought a lot of awareness to anorexia. It became the subject of magazine articles, movies, and after-school specials.

I was fascinated by it — but mainly because it made no sense to me.

Why on Earth would someone refuse to eat?

Mind you, I was 13 years old at the time, and also overweight, so I saw anorexia as the polar opposite of my problem.

I couldn’t fathom why someone wouldn’t eat food — when food was so damn delicious.

If I could only hurl my rotundity into the body of someone with anorexia, surely, their problems would be solved. I would have no problem eating for two.