"What is Thanksgiving after all, hmm? Now choose one of those amazing desserts." Blair robotically grabs this huge pie, and they smile at each other. It's the exact same smile. I don't usually shy away from reading into people's shit, real or fictional, but Eleanor's relationship with Blair's relationship to food has always creeped me out to the point that I don't really...I've seen this relationship in real life, I know that. Mothers and daughters, and food, the give and take, the weird incestuous daring that goes on, under the table. And I think anorexia is about self-control, playing dangerous games with yourself to figure out your limits, and bulimia is the same thing from the other side, demonstrating your control of the world around you in a dangerous way. Blair to a tee, obviously. She doesn't have anything to prove to herself with anorexia, but she and the world at large have a lot of power games to figure out. Both are performative -- ever more so since the advent of the internet -- but bulimia's about hating the world that controls you, instead of demonstrating or regaining control of your own body. If Blair's in a pissing match with God, then anorexia is getting into a pissing match with yourself. That's what I've learned so far.
So everybody at TV Night curled up into little tiny balls, because Blair is wonderful, and watching her be disgusted with herself, while doing something disgusting, and remembering all the ways she's denied herself in every episode from even eating a normal amount, and remembering how bad it used to get when it was bad, and staring at herself in the glass of the refrigerator when she's done with the entire pie, and then heading out of the kitchen altogether and into the bathroom...I think I didn't curl up because I was fighting it my way, which is drawing all these parallels and comparisons, like doing math or running sports scores, because if you stop to think about it at all, bulimia is really...hateful. Not just to the person herself, but to everybody else in the world, because what the world is getting, is getting chewed up and barfed up again, and that's what you and I look like to Blair right now, and no less so herself. It's as scary and ugly and full of rage as a toddler shitting herself, in rebellion against her potty-training. And that's not how Blair looks to me, because I love her. And it's not like we didn't know this, and it's not like I don't crack jokes about it every week, and it's not like I don't hate eating disorders just as much and for the same reasons as I hate suicidal people, but all the judging and disinterest and shame just go away when it's Blair, so then all you can do is think about math and psychology and run sports scores, because just by watching it happen you become a part of it, and this isn't the Blair I want to know.