An Unknown Constellation of an Eating Disorder
Age 8 –
Mom takes me shopping for clothes. I am excited. Mom asks the clothing
clerk to help us find some jeans that will fit my size. He measures my
waist, then comments to my mother: “He’s a husky boy.”
Age
9 – My family goes to New York to visit my aunt. She comments about my
brother’s handsome features. She then turns to me, looks, then announces
to my mother: “Mikey is getting fat.”
Age 9
– My first diet. I just stopped eating. Or maybe I just tried to stop
eating, but filet-o-fish, brownies, and m&m’s melt well in my mouth.
Age
11 – Recess is torture. Kids tease me. They say that I’m fat, but I
can’t be fat because I run fast. Fat kids don’t run fast. I’m faster
than all of them in my class. So, I’m not fat.
Age 13 – My friends
constantly tease me, “Mike’s got boobs.” Boys give me purple nurples
because fat is just fat, and fat has turned into muscle. Yet.
Age
14 – I miss the cutoff for registering for football. I join the
wrestling team. It’s a great way to stay in shape. I like that it’s a
great way to lose weight.
Age 15 – My chest turns into muscles. I will never be fat again. I hope.
Age
15 – Wrestling season. One day before I must weigh in. I’m weighing 124
pounds. Coach Reid asks if I will make the 119 weight class. I secretly
laugh because he doesn’t know my secret: I can lose seven pounds in a
day. Three shirts and a sweatshirt, jump rope, run, sweat, spit, jump
rope, run, sweat, spit, jump rope, run, sweat, spit. And if you don’t
eat at all you can float two pounds over night.
Age
15 – Next day. Weigh in. I am weighing 117 pounds. Time to eat. Time to
binge.Then time to get rid of it before the match. So I sit on the
toilet until it’s all gone.
Age 16 – I have a
spiritual awakening. I find Jesus. I want all of him, because I want
none of me. I pray and I fast. And I fast and I fast. And I pray some
more. And I fast some more because my body is a temple that must be
destroyed. And when it is destroyed, my spirit will be greater. And
Jesus will love me more. So I fast some more to gain the Kingdom of God.
Age 16 – My first girlfriend pinches my love handles and nicknames me ‘chubba’. I am still scarred by her playful pet name.
Age
21 – I’m weighing 135 pounds. This is less than my first girlfriend and
her mother. They are horrified by this admission. I am proud of this
fact.
Graduate school – I’ve gained much weight. I am ugly. I am fat. I recite this mantra secretly. Often.
2010
– Amsterdam with Cecy. I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. I look
truncated. I wish to be naked. I hate the shape of clothes and how they
hug whatever you try to hide. My words begin to spar themselves: You are
ugly. I am beautiful. You are ugly. I am beautiful. I am beautiful. You
are fat. I am. I am. I am beautiful.
Today –
I am onstage, feeling uncomfortable in my skin. Someone takes a photo
of me. I see the image, but it is not as distorted as the one in my
head. I look better than the sickness in my head. I smile. I’m starting
to believe how beautiful it is just to be me.
6/2014
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