Do I Look Fat? Talking and Not-Talking

I promised more on talking and not-talking in the context of illness/treatment/coming back from treatment. This post has been a little delayed by a cold/flu that's affecting my thinking, and by the arrival of winter here!

What other people do say can be frustrating or triggering. When other people don't say anything, it can lead to my perception that there is nothing to be said, based on which I can feel very lonesome, or triggered, or justified in a return to denial.
More on that in a moment. First, not-talking.
Do I Look Fat?
Yes, it's the old "Does my butt look big in this?" turned sinister. As I mentioned in my last post, no matter how far my eating and weight go south, the awareness I've gained of my words' implications is valuable--even if it came as much from more effective meds as from all that time in treatment. 
Some of the awareness is around body image and other eating disorder-related talk. The little comments about weighing less than that big dog designed to provoke remarks about my size from others. The mentions of how much I ate and consequently how awful I feel, or about how little I'm eating these days...These are games that most people with eating disorders play. They're more sinister than the near-universal "Does my butt look big?" because they're sucking well-meaning friends and loved ones into acquiescence with or anger against the eating disorder, both of which reactions give the e.d. energy. Of course, the closest loved ones hear it the most.
I was horrified when I realized I've been doing this, not constantly but occasionally-regularly, since my teens! How icky!!
I don't do it anymore. I can't say I never ever ever do it, but awareness makes abstinence so much easier. It also lets me imagine being on the receiving end of someone who talks like that. Yes I've had relationships end over it but I'd never really understood why.
I'm Going to Say that Again
Seeing the perspective of the person on the receiving end is the biggest change for me this year, and it almost always has me choose not to say something I would otherwise have said. This includes all the e.d.-related stuff above, but it also includes pretty much every aspect of how I talk. Which impacts how I'm writing also, and since it's a renewed appreciation of audience, I expect it's a positive impact.
-I no longer talk in sprawling sentences that include every possible subclause and alternate circumstance before circling back to the main point. Similarly, I ask straight questions without lots of disjuncts.
-I no longer repeat myself excessively. 
-Miraculously, most of the time I'm able to choose not to say those things that always escalate an awkward discussion into all-out conflict.
-I'm growing awareness of how I can phrase a statement or question to avoid having it imply a whole bunch of other things that may be on my mind but that I don't want on the table.
-I'm working on tone of voice.
Amazing that I've been oblivious to this my whole life. I understand that it's a bipolar thing, and I still mess up and miss sometimes. But since I bit the bullet and finally went on lithium, my eyes opened to a new dimension, like a child getting glasses and finally seeing in sharp outlines.

You Look Great!/You Look Awful--There are Other Options
The weight fluctuations of a person with an eating disorder must baffle the words of their circle of friends, even up here, where a lot can be concealed with layers of clothing. 
The trickiest part of what to say must be due to the perception that eating disorders are self-inflicted, whereas an appearance altered by, say, cancer, is the result of bona fide illness.  
Why are you doing this to yourself? The cliche, of course, being the just snap out of it attitude that can be so frustrating. I've had strangers passing me on the streets of Oakland yell comments along those lines.
Otherwise, people care, people worry, people don't know what to say (and go ask your nearest and dearest what on earth...), people blurt things out (you've gained weight!). People say one thing to you and something else to your loved one (You look great! declared by a guy who, I know, prefers skinny women, who then, out of my hearing, asked my husband why I looked so terrible),

Is there anything good that a person can say? It seems clear that comments about how someone looks or is behaving (eating/not-eating) can never have a constructive result. They either state the speaker's own denial and/or acquiesce in my (or whoever's) denial, or they are hurtful and provoke my opposition. I will admit that if I'm behaving dangerously out of mania or depression, someone ought to intervene. As far as the eating disorder appearance goes, it's good for someone to say I care about you, I'm concerned about you; I pray that you take care of yourself; Please let me know if there is a single thing I can do to help; Please call me anytime you need to. Saying something like that leaves behavior and appearance out of it and expresses care and love.

Looks like Death
All my life I've avoided or tuned out comments on the aesthetic front, whether positive or negative. Haven't taken compliments on my appearance, haven't paid great attention to the opposite. Then years ago, when things were very bad, I met up with friends to go hiking. I hadn't seen them for a while, and only one of them knew that things were 'very bad.' We hiked perhaps more gently and stopped frequently; we enjoyed seeing a troupe of llamas being let out the back of a Dodge caravan when we got back to the parking lot. The day after the hike, one of my friends, a guy, emailed to say how shocked they had been at my appearance. "It's not healthy," he wrote, "and frankly, it's not attractive either." 

Behold my first dip into the shock of juxtaposing beauty with anorexia--and yes, I was very very slow to learn that, especially given the shape of most supermodels out there. But I'll talk more about the aesthetic thing, clueless as I am, in the next post.