earlier this week, i was workshopping my fiction piece with my classmates over zoom. as someone who sucks at writing fiction, i wrote a slightly fabricated version of a real story. a story about an eating disorder.
the girl who was leaving my workshop also lives in rochester, and could tell by my details that this wasn’t very much fiction at all. she commended me for writing such an honest piece, and opened up to me about her similar experience.
suddenly, i began to cry. & trust me, i hardly ever cry. i thought i was over it, but writing and discussing this piece brought back so many painful memories. but at the same time, i felt so comforted knowing i was not alone in this experience.
so i decided to post it here. with hopes that i can do the same thing for someone else struggling. i don’t have the solutions to any problems, but at least i’m here to talk.
if you’re like me and feel comfort in knowing others that share similar experiences… here i am.
& here it is.
(please keep in mind that this is fiction & the climax of the story was not my reality, but the feelings throughout are).
Breaking Point
The ring of the school bell shot through her body like it always did, making her more awake than she has been since her alarm went off at 6am.
Lizzy, a 5’4 junior in high school with short stringy dirty blonde hair and boring brown eyes, was always the last one out of the class. She liked to observe the people around her scramble to the door and become engulfed in a sea of students that all just wanted to get out of the restrictions of school. She carefully tucked her papers into two binders, one for work she would need to take home, and the other for what she had completed. Her homework binder was almost always near empty; for she was the kind of kid who was always doing homework, even at lunch. She didn’t understand why anyone would keep it for when they got home.
Her teacher waited for her to leave and closed the door behind her. She was as impatient to escape as her students, but tried to hide it as her lips, covered in red, curved into a friendly smile.
Lizzy sauntered to her locker, grabbed her jacket, and made her way towards the double doors which led to the parking lot. Her little brother was nowhere to be seen, but she figured he was probably messing around with his friends outside as he usually did. He was the social one of the family.
She overheard her peers talking about a party that weekend. She already knew she wouldn’t get invited. Only the “cool” kids would. She was secretly jealous of them, but faked a lack of interest. Every guy was over 6 foot and played some sort of sport, and every girl had long hair and was stick skinny. She wasn’t sure how they managed to stay that size when they drank their body weight in alcohol every weekend. Maybe it was because they ended up throwing it up that same night. Maybe she should try that.
As she jerked the key into the ignition of her red 2005 Jeep Liberty, her brother was already begging her to stop at Wendys. It was right across the street, but she hated taking him. She thought that he should eat something more nutritious, and he always yelled at her for being a mom. He thought that having one was annoying enough.
The car screeched to a stop as a worker’s voice mumbled through the speakers. Lizzy shouted the order to make sure the worker heard it. She didn’t want to have to come back. Her brother always ordered a 4 for 4 with a junior bacon cheeseburger and chocolate frosty, yet somehow he managed to still look like he had been deprived of food his whole life. Lucky him.
When Lizzy finished ordering, her brother asked if she was going to get anything. She quietly shook her head, trying to ignore the quiet grumble of her stomach. The aroma of chicken nuggets and fries filled the car. It smelled delicious.
Pulling into the driveway, Lizzy could see her mom sitting on the front porch watching her dog run around the yard. It reminded her that she needed to workout. She wished she liked running like her dog did. Maybe then losing weight wouldn’t be so hard.
Lizzy walked inside, took off her pristine white high top converse, and ran up the stairs, avoiding the kitchen where the rest of her family was hanging out. She wanted to spend time with them, but knew that it would be too hard to resist eating something if she was downstairs.
She had to go to dance in an hour and started to get ready. Twirling her hair into a perfect bun she was constantly distracted by her imperfections. Lizzy thought her nose was too big, she saw a double chin, thin lips and too broad shoulders. She wanted to cover up, but knew that her ballet teacher would not allow that. Not eating was the only way she felt any better about herself. Soon enough she would be at the weight she wanted. At least she hoped.
When Lizzy got to dance that afternoon, her best friend Zoie was already there, sitting on the stained grey carpet, effortlessly tying the ribbons on her pointe shoes as they had both done countless times. Lizzy dropped her bag down next to her friend. There was a class going on in the studio and it was hard to ignore the sound of the teacher’s voice competing with the quick tempo of the piano. “Faster! Higher!” She would shout. “Suck in your gut!”
…
At this point, Lizzy stuck with two meals a day. Breakfast, which consisted of a banana, and dinner, which was whatever her mom made, but she would only let herself have a few bites. Lizzy thought that any more than that and she would gain weight. And at that point in her life, there was nothing that could be worse than that.
The lack of food made dancing difficult. She was always tired, but thought she would just get used to it. None of the other girls ate either, and they were perfectly fine.
…
Lizzy walked into the studio one crisp fall morning, welcomed by the familiar smell of sweat and the buzz of girls gossiping over who was going to be Clara in the annual performance of the Nutcracker. Feeling especially lightheaded and dizzy that day, Lizzy couldn’t muster up the energy to talk to the other girls knowing she had to reserve her little energy for the six hours of rehearsal she had ahead of her. Suddenly, Lizzy realized that this avoidance had become a recent trend. Even Zoie has begun to feel like a distant friend.
The teacher called the dancers to the center of the room for petite allegro, or quick, small jumps. Lizzy was in the first group to go, like usual. She stared at her body in the mirror. It was hard not to, for the wall was covered in them. Lizzy began, trying to act confident while negative thoughts crowded her mind. Why did her thighs still jiggle when she jumped? Why were her collar bones still not as defined as the other girls? And why does she have so much fat on her hips?
Suddenly, a feeling of something completely different rushed to the front of her mind. Panic. Lizzy’s vision began to narrow, but she knew she couldn’t stop in the middle of a combination. The wrath of her teacher was too familiar. Unfortunately, her body didn’t care. The whole room went dark. Lizzy woke up in a hospital bed.
…
Lizzy’s boring brown eyes were blurred, and her head ached, but she could still make out her mom talking to a nurse, although what they were saying was unclear. She was still dressed in her leotard and tights and was hooked up to an IV with a plate of food in front of her. She tried to quickly figure out how many calories there were on the plate in front of her, and debated whether it was worth it or not. She was starving.
When Lizzy’s mom and the nurse realized she was awake, she was forced to eat. It was the first time Lizzy had felt content in months, despite the pounding in her head and the soreness of her body.
Lizzy was informed that she had passed out due to her hypoglycemia and was diagnosed with severe anorexia. Lizzy was assisted to a scale to be weighed. 97lbs. Far underweight for a 17 year old.
The doctor explained that Lizzy would have to go to counseling and gain back the weight that she had spent painful months trying to get off. This broke her heart.
Lizzy had to learn how to look in the mirror and be happy with what she sees. She had to change the words she lived by, “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”. She learned that it’s okay to have dessert every now and then, and to eat when she is hungry. For Lizzy, calling this difficult was an understatement.
Lizzy looks back at all of the experiences she could have once had, if she hadn’t gotten in her own way. The energy wasted thinking of when she was going to be able to eat next, and all of the times she stayed home instead of going out with friends because temptations would be too high. Today, Lizzy still manages to smile at how far she has come, yet never forgetting the pain and suffering she had experienced.
Bella Malatesta
