Eating Disorders: A Narrative

The Power of A Phrase

I never understood the power of a single phrase, the impact that someone’s perception could have upon me. I was never the girl who cared about how I looked, nor what anyone thought of me. Once I started internalizing the criticisms of other people, I completely changed. In order to fully understand the complexity of this single event and the impact that it had upon my character, allow me to elucidate the bright spirit I was before I received criticism for my appearance.

A month earlier, my friends and I were going to the mall, and it was a bright, sunny day. I woke up early. I liked to wake up early to make the most out of my day. That morning, a notable smile enveloped my face, and I scoured through my closet, reaching for my special pair of shorts and a cute tank top. We were going to my favorite restaurant, and I couldn’t wait to bite into a juicy burger. While at the mall, we embarked on karaoke adventures, ran around trying on new outfits, with no regard for what others thought of us. The worst part of this day was thinking about when I would have to go home, but nevertheless, I was a happy, energetic, care-free girl, who enjoyed every single ounce of joy that life had to offer.

A month later, I was going to the same mall with the same group of friends. I woke up early and immediately began to dress, scouring for another outfit. It was another sunny day, but with a little wind, so I grabbed a sweater. As I walked down the stairs, my parents saw me, their beautiful daughter, and told me “you’re glowing my princess.” As I took a glimpse at myself in the mirror, I felt as though I was “glowing” just as my parents had commented. For a moment, I gazed at the beautiful impression that I had of myself in the mirror.

As I stepped out of the car once we arrived, a new person I didn’t recognize was standing with my friends. I approached him with a smile but his eyes lacked a friendly glow. I felt a cold breeze come over me as I vibrantly introduced myself, and all he said was...

-- “You’re kinda fat. I’d try a diet if I were you.”

Everyone remained silent. I laughed; laughing was my way of coping. Laughing provided me with the semblance that he was joking. But I knew he wasn’t.

I thought to myself, I shouldn’t listen or care for what he says. He’s merely deflecting his insecurities on me. I should pity him instead. As much as I tried convincing myself to disregard the words of this stranger, his statement had an unprecedented impact on my entire being.

At that moment, the clouds cloaked the sun. As we walked to that same restaurant, I took my sweater and tied it around my waist, to shield my fat from the world. I walked behind my friends and him, so they wouldn’t have to be ashamed to be seen in public with me.

We arrived at the restaurant, my favorite restaurant, yet that juicy burger didn’t appeal to me. In that burger, once tied to joyful memories, all I saw was grease and fat, and the cause of my ugliness. I said, “I’m not hungry” and sat there, drinking the table water. I watched them all with their bright faces, enjoying themselves, as I remained at the end of the table, feeling isolated, scrolling the internet on “how to lose weight.” I couldn’t wait to go home.

I didn’t eat dinner when I got home, exclaiming, once again “I’m not hungry.” I didn’t frequently lie to my parents; however, this statement became a pretense that continuously escaped my mouth.

As I lay in bed, the quiet of night overwhelmed me. My thoughts spoke an infinite times louder, each word, a knife to my heart, telling me “you’re fat, go on a diet.” I started to rub my stomach. Maybe I was fat? Maybe I just didn’t notice it? Why else would he have said that?

I walked to the bathroom, and I stared at the menacing mirror. A mirror which once showed me my beautiful soul, now only showed me my foul appearance. My faults were accentuated; I couldn’t comprehend how I left the house that same morning without pointing out all my imperfections. I started pulling at my fat; grabbing an entire bucket of fat by merely pulling my skin. The weight of the fat was pulling me down, inhibiting me from being beautiful. My stomach, my legs, my arms, everything was fat. Everything was ugly. My reflection disgusted me, and I made sure my reflection knew how terrible it was.

The next morning, I woke up late; waking up late meant it’d be easier to skip breakfast. I immediately went on the treadmill, wearing oversized clothes, so I didn’t have to see my body. I counted calories and ate a plain salad at every meal. I had never paid attention to the amount of nutrients in food; however, now, my brain was filled with numbers.

My social media was swarmed with beautiful, skinny, perfect models. Maybe if I looked like those models, I wouldn’t be called fat. I liked her nose, her face, her body, her waist, her legs. I liked everything I thought would make me beautiful; everything I thought I didn’t have. I was obsessed with looking at the scale; as the numbers slowly reduced, all the while I still felt hideous.

My new daily routine was controlled by my appearance. Scrolling through social media, envying all those I desired to look like. Every morning, I woke up and immediately began running, but running didn’t solve my problems. I spent all my energy staring in the mirror pointing out what I hated. I focused all my energy on losing weight, on starving, on exercising, so much so that I failed to realize the issue wasn’t with how I looked. The true issue was what I thought of myself, how I let that phrase impact my perception of myself. How could I let someone who spends their time degrading others, someone I don’t even know, win?

I avoided going out with my family and my friends, especially if they were going out to eat. I feared not being able to track my calories, and being pressured to eat would overwhelm me. I would just stay in my room, isolated, all day, just to avoid the kitchen. Consistently, my father said, “you’re disappearing,” but I ignored his comments and continued being in denial.

There’s a distinct night, detrimental to my already agonizing downward spiral, that I must include in my story. It was my mom’s birthday, and I forced myself to go to dinner for the special occasion. My experience on that night can be likened to a guillotine, every passing moment bringing me closer and closer to my destruction, until I no longer desired to exist.

I felt anguish getting dressed, thinking about how nothing in my closet had fit me. As I put on a kid’s size dress, I somehow still felt I wasn’t skinny enough. My parents told me “you look beautiful, princess,” but, I stared at the mirror and made sure my reflection was aware of its ugliness, and it was deserving to be called “fat.” I let my appearance define my worth, and ever since his words, I decided I was worthless.

As we entered the restaurant, the lingering cold from the outside ushered me past eyes filled with coldness for my very being. Their thoughts, which I was sure of, swarmed my head: “she looks fat,” “she looks ugly,” “how could she step foot in here looking like that?” I could feel everyone judging me, just as I had already in the mirror.

Further frightening was being handed the menu. I scanned it but all I saw were calories, and I was flooded by the calculations in my head. The high numbers frightened me, so much so that I felt sickened by the thought of eating anything. Slowly, I began to feel the guillotine lowering above my head. In an attempt to save myself, I ordered the fish salad, with no dressing.

However, my attempts failed and the guillotine finally dropped. My heart sank as they brought out the food, my world shattered. I felt a crushing weight inside of me and a panic swept through my entire being – there was dressing! I didn’t want to eat it, but I forced myself to take a bite. But, that bite turned into two, then three – then the entire portion was gone.

I was distraught, filled with shame for having eaten the way I did. I cried. When we got home, I cried for three hours. I was disgusted and ashamed of myself. I gawked at my reflection. Hysterically, I sobbed, “Why am I not skinny? Why am I not pretty? I just want to feel pretty. I want to love myself, but I can’t. I just want to be pretty. I hate my body so much. I hate it.”

As I stared in the mirror, I despised my reflection. I hated myself for eating an entire meal. I felt fat regardless of how much the scale went down; regardless of what anyone said. I could feel my hip bone, I could see my spine, and yet, I still felt fat. When would it be enough? I just wanted to be beautiful. But no one, not my parents, not my siblings, not my friends, no one could convince me I was. And I wouldn’t believe it anytime soon.

As I reflect, it was not that birthday dinner that was detrimental to my existence. It was the slow descent of the sharp guillotine, which ignited at the boy’s comment, that led to my demise. I lost a part of me that day. I lost my fun-spirit, my light, my glow. If I could go back, I never would have left my house.

Reflection:

A single phrase can have unprecedented effects on anyone; especially concerning the appearances of a young, impressionable girl. The word “fat” alters her into a self-conscious individual, desiring approval from those around her. Undoubtedly, her external features change as she becomes gaunt and skinny, but even more so, her spirit changes. Contrasting to her original, upbeat personality, the incident at the mall caused her to take on a negative self-image, arms folded and trailing behind others, as she becomes ashamed and conscientious of her appearance -- her characterizing glow has escaped her.

Her father’s comment, “you’re disappearing,” was symbolic of both her physical and emotional deterioration. Not only was she disappearing physically, but she was also deteriorating psychologically and emotionally. She became practically invisible to her friends and her family and to her inner self. Her obsession with losing weight robbed her of the life she once had. As a result, she no longer embodies her original spirit, and she isolates herself from her family, friends, and locks herself away to avoid others seeing her body.

She determines her self-worth by placing great value on her appearance, as she compares the way she looks to others. Her perception of others alters as she only identifies individuals for their body, as she scrolls through social media, envying them. While passing by strangers, she is consumed by the fear of others’ criticisms, so much so, she is unable to enjoy fond times with her family. She is characterized by guilt, obsessiveness, isolation, and a distorted self-perception, as she is controlled by food and the thoughts others have of her. Originally, ignorant of others' opinions of her, she becomes transformed when the boy directly criticizes her. Enslaved by the perceptions of others, she lacks the freedom to be herself. She becomes fixated on her appearance, and the only thoughts which occupy her mind are how to ‘fix,’ or criticize, the way she looks.

Ultimately, the comment at the mall continues to resonate deep in her mind, as the echoing of “you’re fat” causes her to become a victim of circumstances. The beautiful soul she once possessed is now obliterated. Her fragility is apparent in her physical and emotional state, and she uses the mirror as a vehicle to drive her into self-destruction. Her emotions become unregulated as she allows simple instances, merely dressing on her salad, to ruin her and bring her to tears, as she is controlled by the fear of being “fat.” That single phrase is etched in her heart and in her mind, so much so that she has forgotten who she really is.