CHAPTER ONEPUT ME INTO A PETITE BOX1990I“You lost weight!”“You look really good.”“How did you do it?”Were these welcoming words for a fifteen year-old girl blossoming into womanhood?I wanted to hear my feminine allies whisper the words, “you lost weight.” But, not tocomplimentme; but rather to confirm that I was wasting away. I was fulfilling my secret plan to lookrepulsive, withbones sticking out of the sides of my face, and red blush covering my facial bones.I was finally becoming a success at something -- being an anorexic! I wanted to besomebodyimportant, somebody people would notice. I didn’t care why they noticed me, as long asthey did. I couldbe the real life woman portrayed by a hot actress in a cheesy TV movie about anorexia.That was what Iwanted to be good at. I couldn’t think of what else would give me as much attention andsuccess. I wasn’ta cheerleader, lead actress in the high school musical, or the brainiac math geniuschick.I liked sharing the vulnerability that many young women have with trying to fit into the“normal”expectations of being smart, thin and popular. But, on the other hand, I wanted to be“bad”, and beemaciated to retaliate against my parents. I also wanted to smartly scheme with otheranorexic sickos, ingroup therapy, with my insane desire to learn to stick my emaciated fingers down myhollow throat, just like the actresses do in the cheesy TV movies.Victoria, my best friend from high school, didn’t see me a lot in the summer. When shedid seeme, however, she was concerned.“Hilda, you have anorexia nervosa.”“You think so?” I was pleased, and sounded so. “Yeah.”“No I don’t, actually.” I wanted to show people I was in “denial.” I was taught by myparents thatI should never admit to being good at something,lLearning only to hint at it, and notblatantly show it off.School made me feel terrible about myself because I had a learning disability, and wasnot a good student.I wanted to show off I was in denial, like a textbook “bad girl” conniving anorexic. Thatwas what I was,and what I wanted to be, because it gave me attention.- “I haven’t lost that much weight.”- “Yes you have. Did you bring your lunch today? What did you have for breakfast?What areyou eating?”- “I eat dinner. That’s enough. I just wanted to lose ten pounds, and I did. I have tomaintainit now.”- “That’s starvation.”- “Who said so?” I asked.- “I did,” she said. “You have to eat something.”- “I’ll just have a Diet Coke,” I replied.- “No. You’ll have some of my lunch,” she insisted.- “I have a lunch. That doesn’t mean I’ll eat it.”“I’m going to talk to Mrs. Red (the guidance counsellor),” she threatened. I was happy,because Mrs. Red would call my parents and everyone would know I was the anorexic: doctors,teachers, students,friends and my parents. I was an object to my parents in a way. I made them look badby being anorexic.They would have to take responsibility for telling me I’m stupid. I was trying only to bethe typicalanorexic good girl or bad girl ( I don’t know which). I didn’t want my parents to lay off.They were allworried, and I was happy. I was getting the negative attention I thought I wanted. I wasconfused.The guidance office was covered with glass, so everyone could see in. I’m alwayscurious toknow about other people’s problems, or at least know that they have problems, just tocompare myself to them. I didn’t really want others to have problems, since I wanted to be sick to get all theglamour andattention. I wanted to be the best. This meant I would get all the anorexic attention andfeel famous. I sawVictoria go into the office. She must have been in there for an hour. Victoria told meeverything she andthe guidance counsellor talked about:“You know, Hilda told me she has never menstruated before,” Victoria said.“Well sure. It’s because she has anorexia,” the guidance counsellor said.“Yes. I think so. What can we do about it?” Victoria asked.“Well, I’ll have to call her parents.”“That’s a very good idea.”Mrs. Red was wearing a red shirt and a red dress and white high heels. She came intoschoolwearing a fur coat. She was sitting in her chair, cross-legged, palm on chin, nodding. Itwas funny to me how she sat because she was so cheesy.I don’t have anorexia. I don’t, I thought. It can’t be. I’m not good at anything. I’m justaverage.At the time, Mrs. Red did not know who “Hilda” was. Once she left the office withVictoria, shespotted me.“It’s her, isn’t it,” she said loudly.“Yeah,” said Victoria.“Hilda...”“Yes?” I responded.“Are you Hilda?” She asked.“Sure I am,” I said.“Well, you’ve never been in trouble with me before. You’re a good kid. Are you eatingthough?”“What would make you think I wasn’t?” I was playing.“Does your doctor know about how much weight you’ve lost? How much do you weighHilda?How much have you lost Hilda?”“Why would you care? It’s my business,” I demanded.“Do you think you have anorexia nervosa?” she asked.“No. Of course not! I don’t.”“She was denying it with me too,” Victoria said loudly, so everyone in the hall couldhear.“You know, I have to call your parents. What’s your parent’s phone number? Actually I’lllook itup. I don’t trust you. Anorexics cannot be trusted. I have dealt with them before,”I liked being grouped into the psycho category of anorexic yuppies. She’ll call my momor dad.They’ll have to send me to group therapy, and I’d then learn to stick the end of atoothbrush down my sorry throat so I can induce vomiting.“To tell you the truth, Mrs. Red, I haven’t noticed this weight loss. I was so active overthesummer.” Lies. But I realized she knew I was lying, and that’s why I lied, so I’d be thetypical connivinganorexic.“Of course you don’t see it, hun.”SHUT THE FUCK OFF WITH “HUN.” I’m not Mrs. Red’s “Hun,” I thought.She went back into the glassed guidance office. Closed her door. Her fingers quicklydialed a number.“Do you think she’s anorexic?” my father asked.“I don’t know. Go to a specialist. Call her doctor.”

Put me in a box

momomobami

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Put me in a Box

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