stories
words
things that were never supposed to matter
things that ended up mattering much more than anyone could have ever imagined
stories about girls
the skinny models in mother's college flat who ate tuna off of lettuce leaves
they didn't use mayo. because mayo had too many calories. instead they mixed their canned tuna with celery and carrots and swapped lettuce for bread
facts. facts about weight. the perfect weight. the ideal weight.
'you get 100 lbs for 5 feet, and 5 lbs allowance for every inch above that'
ok, mother. i understand. i will make you proud.
the admonishments 'a moment on the lips, forever on the hips' as she pinches hers, already ample, already wide, and i swear to never become her.
'the perfect waist-to-hip ratio....hourglass figure...if you just lost a few pounds'
'just eat smaller portions'/'just go on this juice fast with me'
'just stop eating sugar'/'just stop eating carbs'/'just stop eating processed foods'
...just stop eating?
'that outfit is for skinny girls' as she sits on the couch downing a bag of chips
'my skinniest weight was 117, just before i met your father' and she is 5'5 or something of the sort, and even i know that that is underweight, but maybe not because she is so proud of it, like a trophy badge pinned to her past
'change your clothes or boys will notice' because God forbid this girl was born with a body prematurely developed by 11, and if i lose enough weight, maybe they will stop staring at me like hungry wolves because there will be no more meat on these bones
first comment coming back from summer camp, sitting in a restaurant, wolfing down my meal after a sparse breakfast, 'well you've gained weight!'
losing ten pounds in two weeks by not eating, met with 'now you're perfect...don't gain anymore'
lose five more pounds, and it becomes, 'don't lose anymore..you're getting too skinny'
oh how they love to throw around that phrase
'too skinny'
what do they know about too skinny?
my mother? stuck in a cycle of diet/binge/complain about her weight? the one who ought to deal with her own disordered eating before she dare judge me on mine? the one from whom i learned this measuring rubric, by which i am grossly overweight, drastically inadequate? she may love me, but this is not the way.
or...maybe the healthy ones?
the boy who makes himself two grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and goes for a run because he can and because he wants to, and because for him running is not punishment or shaky legs or black spots dancing before your eyes, but it's strength and the wind in your face... he will never understand the pain of stomach rolls and arm-wings and little boys who poke the squishy parts and tell you you're fat
the girl who sits in coffee shops before beautiful latte art and doesn't think twice before putting it to her lips, perfectly blissfully unconsumed by calorie counting, because for her food is fuel and art and necessary not bad and evil and proof of need... she will never understand the feeling of realizing how broken your eyes are, reaching out for help to be dismissed with 'not sick enough'...'not enough'... never enough
the girl who laughs and blows the wrapper off her straw into my face, a teasing glint in her eye, who sips her milkshake without worrying about where to find a bathroom to throw it all up afterwards, because for her this is just a fun outing with friends, not constantly on display as if to prove that she is well enough, healthy enough, self-sufficient enough, not too needy, where she is worth their time and care.
the one who looks over at her with a fond smile on his face, the one she links arms with to navigate the darkness of DC nights...
where have they come from, and who are they?
these people for whom food is not fear is not punishment is not pain is not a curse... they will never understand the feeling of stepping on a scale to see the number dropped one, maybe two, from the previous day, and feel an overwhelming sense of numb triumph, swearing 'just five more pounds' 'just two more' 'just let me get to my goal then i'll stop, i swear' then reaching that goal and needing fifteen pounds worth of buffer...
they are normal.
normal without the whispers clawing their way past all defenses in the middle of the night
'fat' 'lose weight' 'no boy will ever love you' 'i'll buy you diet pills' 'only good to jerk off to' 'i'd never date the fat girl' 'step on the scale..you must weight a ton' 'you should go on a diet, lose all that weight' 'why can't you look like her?' 'if i tried to pick you up, i'd break' 'anorexic' 'bulimic' 'sick' 'not sick enough' 'have you gained weight? you looked better when you were skinny' 'ew you're so gross' 'lose five more pounds and you'll be perfect' 'gain five more pounds and you'll be perfect'
but the worst are the too's
'too fat' 'too skinny'
always too...too much....
too much need, too much sadness, too much numb, too much pain, too much hurt, too much i don't know, too much questions, too much confusion...
always, always too much
and if i disappear into numbness will i finally not have to feel?
has this taken over me to the point where i don't care anymore?
maybe.
i don't know.
and usually that scares me.
but lately? i've been having trouble feeling....
so, hey. i'm fine
i'm just fine.
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