lose your ed


My empire is in ruins. I’m a wanted man with no friends. And my mother… the one person I swore to protect is dead because of my weakness.

They told me if I didn’t eat after 7 I would lose weight.
They told me if I cut all my food into tiny pieces and chewed each bite 30 times I would lose weight.
They told me if I didn’t enjoy my food I would lose weight.
They told me to overpower my hunger and cut back my calories and I would lose weight.

So I did all of those things, and guess what I didn’t lose weight. I just spent my teen years starving, exhausted, eyes glazed over, eating one meal a day, chugging diet soda to trick my body into staying upright, slicing into my skin because I wanted so badly to be out of it. 

I did all of those things and I didn’t lose weight, but I lost those years and I won’t get them back and I have to wake up everyday and fight to make sure I’m not losing any more. 

So please please please please eat. Take care of yourself. A year from now I want you to say ‘I didn’t lose this year.’

Post-Wembley Blurb

Ed Sheeran still jumps on the bed 

“Ed Sheeran, you just sold out Wembley for three nights in a row!” I put on my best announcing voice, trying to convey the feel of that pivotal moment right after the superbowl, “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?”

           I half expected him to say, “I’m going to Disney world.”

           But he didn’t.

           “I’m going to jump on the bed” the words hadn’t even left his mouth before he was climbing up on to the bed, jumping.            

Currently, I stand motionless on the twin size hotel bed watching him as he jumps up and down, my eyes drifting to the space above his head when he reaches maximum height, to affirm that there is adequate space between the top of his ginger head and the ceiling. The last thing I need is for Ed to get a concussion, although the look on his face right now, corners of his eyes wrinkled and a shit-eating grin, makes me think that he could die right now and be completely okay with it.

He didn’t hesitate to climb up on the bed in the first place, as I stood in the middle of the doorway reliving every childhood incidence where my parents said “no.” Not Ed, no, I imagine that he’s a jumper from way back. It’s the little things that I kind of love finding out about him, even now.

 “You’re bringing down the mood” he stops briefly, almost out of breath, to shoot me a frown, before he starts jumping again, speaking in syllables when his feet touch the bed,











He stops jumping again, “WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?”

“I was just watching you” I add, beginning to jump, “To make sure you didn’t smack that head of yours off the ceiling and lose your memories, Ed. It would take so long to remind you of all of the shit you’ve done.”

“ace!” he beams, “See this is fun isn’t it??”

“YES!” I agree, rather loudly, “the people below us probably think we’re into some weird shit. It probably sounds like awkwardly slow sex”

He laughs, the noise coming from deep within him, where his best laughter comes from. He has to stop jumping, his breath hitching in his throat

“It wasn’t that funny” I shake my head

“It’s funny because I always assumed everyone was jumping on the beds as a kid” he laughs. He sits down on the bed, and I follow suit, crossing my legs under my body, looking at Ed.

My god does he look happy. I can’t even begin to fathom that level of happiness, so I ask him, because there is no time for comfortable silences on a night like this. I demand that this never ends, at least not for him. I want to stay awake for as long as possible, to remember this as the night that Ed Sheeran felt like electricity was running through his veins. He radiates energy, happiness, excitement, the ability to see profound joy even after profound sadness. He deserves every ounce of this accomplishment.

“It feels like when you finally know that everything is going to be okay” he says, not able to contain the smile on his face, “I appreciate the pain that I’ve experienced along the way, you know? I wasn’t able to then, but I am now. It feels like there isn’t a single thing in the universe that could get me down. I can’t even describe it. I’ve accomplished something huge, like I’ve set the record for most nandos eaten in 3 days or something”

And then he’s back. He’s Ed, he’s eating nandos and calling himself pregnant after a meal and making inappropriate jokes.

“Let’s order room service and eat everything they have” he announces, “we’re going to stay up and watch movies or some shit”

“A fantastic end to a fantastic day” I tell him, “YOU DA REAL MVP”

“bassssss” infamous words, we’ve all grown to love, “but first, more jumping”

Ed Sheeran sold out Wembley. He puts out album after album after album and has awards littered across his house, and yet, he still, jumps on the bed.