It doesn't make sense that someone with an eating disorder would open a restaurant but that's exactly what I did. I was determined to own a restaurant. Plus, I was sick and tired of organizing my life around what I ate or didn't eat, how much I exercised and what I weighed. It had become a full time job. I figured I would either end up 300 pounds or I'd beat it, but I couldn't continue to live with this monkey (or muffin) on my back. So, in 1974 I opened a natural foods restaurant in Greenwich Village called Whole Wheat 'n Wild Berrys. It was the best thing I ever did.
My journey (or craziness) with food began when I was 16 -- that's when I started modeling. It's also when I started dieting. I wasn't heavy; I'm 5'6" and at the time I weighed 115 pounds -- perhaps too round for high fashion yet still slender. But, I wanted to be skinny, SKINNY! It was a goal I set for myself, like getting a professional portfolio together and finding an agent. I had never been on a diet before so it was easy to lose weight; I cut out all the ice cream and candy I consumed and created a food plan that was high in protein and vegetables and low in carbs. I was a lousy student but I memorized the calorie and carbohydrate content in literally hundreds of foods and recorded everything I ate; then I watched myself become thinner and thinner and thinner. I had never had any success -- not in school or in sports, so it was exciting to see such results. My home life was chaotic but dieting gave me a structure and a sense of security, something I had never known. It was as if I had found religion and I became a fanatic. It also gave me an identity. Over the summer I was signed by an agency in New York City (I lived on Long Island) and began to work steadily. When I returned to school in the fall I had a new look and a new persona. I continued to diet and eventually reached 89 pounds.
Then it all collapsed. The more success I had as a model, the more violent my father became and our fights escalated. I became so depressed I would binge on sweets, then in a desperate effort to hold on to my identity as a model, I would starve myself and purge. I eventually gained all the weight back and more. I'm sure there were other girls with the same problem but this was the early 60s and no one was talking. I felt crazy and out of control.
After high school I moved to New York City. No longer able to model, I found work as a dancer and studied acting. The following year I moved to Rome where I acted in films. Being in Italy was like jumping from the pasta straight into the Alfredo sauce. After several years I left Europe and acting and returned to New York. By then I was in my late 20s and longed to create something of my own. But what?
My obsession with diet foods led to an interest in health foods. By then it was the early 70s and the concept was becoming popular but the food itself was dreary and uninspiring: brown rice and vegetables, soybean loafs, and bread that was so dense it could sink a ship. I had a vision of food that was healthy but also lush and delicious. Although I had no experience in the food business I decided I would open a restaurant; luckily the timing was right and my concept took off.
"Now that you're working with food all day you'll get sick of it," friends told me over and over again. Yeah, when? One year passed, then two, three. My relationships with men were fleeting but my commitment (and lust) for the warm gingerbread with fresh whipped cream, raspberry scones, and the peanut butter ice cream pie never waned. In the past when I overate I would get away from food, go on a fast, and take lots of dance classes. In the restaurant the only exercise I got was bussing tables and chopping onions and it was impossible not to be around food. If I binged (which I often did) I still had to come in the next day, bloated and exhausted to face the enemy. I'd open the door in the morning and it was as if a bell would go off. In one corner of the ring there was me with oven mitts and a spatula; in the other there was the reigning champ; the daily menu with its Spinach, Pie wrapped in flakey, buttery phyllo dough, vegetarian lasagna, thick tahini-ginger dressing, and moist carrot cake. Every day was a challenge but I hung in. With no place to hide I had to make peace, not just with the food but with myself.
It all came down to learning to love myself. First of all I had to begin to treat myself with enormous tenderness. Not just toward the nice parts but the parts that were deeply wounded and traumatized -- the parts that I normally kept hidden. The messy, addicted, and unkempt parts. The ones that were so beaten up and ignored they didn't dare ask for anything or feel deserving of love. Then I had to stop comparing myself. We all do it but it's a nasty bit of business and absolutely no good comes of it. Trust me, I've had years of practice and if there was any value at all I would have discovered it by now. Comparing yourself is an act of violence. Besides, what we're really doing is comparing our insides to other people's (airbrushed and botoxed) outsides. Ultimately loving yourself is about acceptance and forgiveness. Not the ordinary, garden-variety kind, but radical self acceptance, radical self forgiveness, radical self love.
That was the most important lesson I learned. I owned and operated Whole Wheat 'n Wild Berrys from 1974-1995. When I first started I thought I was building a business but I was really building a life, one based on who I really was. What started as a little natural foods restaurant in Greenwich Village turned out to be an extraordinary journey of self discovery and self acceptance.