Food

My mother has nagged me about my weight since I was nine years old. Until then I was underweight and scrawny, and endured the constant refrain of 'Eat more, you're too skinny' from my aunts and grandmother. But then my body started changing, and so did my relationship with food. 

At ten, she took me to my first TOPS(taking off pounds sensibly) meeting. I was the only kid there, and endured an hour every Monday and Thursday night of hearing her tell her friends how chubby and unattractive I was. Every night as I ate dinner, she would scrutinize and comment on everything I ate. 

At twelve, she tried taking me to Weight Watchers. I dutifully charted my food and counted my points but stayed the same size. At home I was no longer allowed to eat cookies or cake; the only treat I was allowed was a chalky chocolate flavored diet drink called Alba77. I hated it and would throw it down the toilet when she wasn't looking. She told me frequently that if only I was as thin as my cousin B(who was using various drugs) then I would be the pretty, popular daughter she had always dreamed of having. 

At fourteen, I went to theatre camp and learned how to stick my finger down my throat. Despite only being a size fourteen, I quickly started purging. I would go three or four days without eating, then binge and purge. Some days I would allow myself a half apple for the day; I would slice it thin and take small bite when I felt faint. 

I quickly shrank down even further; my ribs stuck out and my hipbones jutted out prominently. For the first time in my life, my mother was nice to me. She bought me clothes. She told me I was pretty. She didn't seem to notice that my periods had stopped or that my bones stuck out. I was thin, and that was the most important thing. 

At sixteen, my drama coach brought me breakfast on a Monday morning. I thanked her and told her I'd eat it later. She told me,"No, I'd like to see you eat it." I ate a few bites, thinking I would go into the bathroom and purge. But she followed me into the bathroom.

 Then she informed me that she knew what I had been doing, and that she had called my parents about it. She said that my mother had gotten angry and told her that it was okay as long as I was thin. My teacher told me ," She may not be willing to do anything about it, but I will". 

After that things changed. My friends from the drama club followed me everywhere. They watched me eat and one of them seemed to always follow me into the bathroom afterwards. They sat with me at breakfast and lunch, and the guys in the group brought me a snack every day after school.  

I've never been able to figure out if she asked them to do these things, or if they talked about it among themselves and decided to do it. 

I haven't starved myself or purged in many years. It took a long time for me to be able to eat normally and some days I still struggle with the urge to stop eating. When I get a stomach virus and throw up, it takes weeks to be able to convince myself to eat normally again. 

My mother still wistfully talks about when I was thin at family functions and has told me more than once that I should 'do that diet' I did in high school. 

Food is no longer a punishment for me. It is sensual, delicious, and beautiful. It makes me feel good and nourished and whole. And every day I am thankful for my drama coach who, with a breakfast of runny powdered eggs and some words of encouragement, kept me from starving myself to death.