I
screamed silently as I pinched the roll of fat on my tummy. I was sure
I’d gone up a dress size in the past week. My shirt was tight, the
button of my jeans were digging into my waist and I was struggling with
each breath. I could have sworn I fit into this outfit a week ago!
I ran downstairs to my parents crying as
I jumped into my mum’s arms. ‘Darling, what’s the matter?’ I could feel
my parents staring at each other horrified.
‘I’m fat!’ I wailed.
My mum laughed softly and raised my
tear-stained face to look at her, ‘Don’t be silly, hun. You’re not fat.
You need to gain some weight even. You’re too thin.’
I rolled my eyes at her and looked at my
father instead. He was trying to stifle a smile and failing abysmally.
Ugh! I stamped my feet. What did they know? They hadn’t seen what Demi
Levato had to go through with her weight problem. How Miley Cyrus
dropped like how many dress sizes in how many weeks…they were blind.
I started by eating only half of what
was put on my plate. It was difficult to start with but I looked at my
phone’s wallpaper, Rooney Mara as the Girl in The Dragon Tattoo stared
back at me. This gave me the determination to grit my teeth and
continue.
I weighed myself a week later and gasped
in disbelief. I’d gained 2kg! How? Why? I logged unto a pro-anorexic
website and moaned to myself. No wonder I was a fat pig. I was
overfeeding!
Time to up the ante. I stopped taking
the bus to school. My parents didn’t really notice that I was leaving
earlier than usual because they were always rushing off to work. I would
walk briskly to school with my deodorant in my bag just in case I
sweated too much. I always did. I had no lunch at school and I had soup
for supper. Always slipping the food to the dog surreptitiously.
In 2 weeks, one of the cool girls in
school stopped me as I walked out of the cafeteria with an apple saying,
‘God, Nnenna! Are you losing weight?’
I held those precious words close to my
heart with a massive grin as I practically skipped back home. I used it
as a crutch when my tummy yowled with hunger that night and I popped a
cube of sugar into my mouth and forced myself to sleep. I chanted them
like a mantra as I did my sit-ups the moment I woke up the next day. For
the next month, dieting was my religion.
I took a deep breath and grabbed the
pair of jeans that had given me problems before. I held my breath as I
tried them on. Yes! They were loose. I did a little jig and ran
downstairs to meet my parents.
‘Notice anything different?’ I asked giggling. They looked at me absently and replied, ‘You’ve got make up on?’
‘No!’ I replied, exasperated. ‘I’ve lost weight!’
‘Oh,’ my mother nodded quickly. ‘Of
course, darling. But you look as pretty as before. You don’t need to
lose anything, hun. I’ve told you this already.’
My heart plummeted as I went back to my room. I still looked the same. The cool girl in school was probably humouring me.
Weeks went by and I didn’t even think of
food. Soon I couldn’t concentrate in school. I didn’t have the
strength. I ignored the looks other girls gave me as I trudged past
them. I ignored how my parents looked increasingly worried.
Then one day, my mum called me to the
living room and sat me down. My father looked equally disturbed. What
was the problem? All I wanted to do was exercise then sleep.
‘Nnenna, is there anything bothering you? Anything you want to tell me about?’ My mum asked gently.
I was confused, what was she talking
about? Had any teacher called to complain about my work? I had
apologised for nodding off during classes, hadn’t I?
My dad added just as gently, ‘I’ve
noticed that you’ve stopped taking breakfast and supper with us. Always
running to your room. Are…is everything okay?’
‘Everything’s fine, dad. I’ve been
eating breakfast. I eat when you guys have gone to work, you just don’t
notice. And I have supper too! With my friends before I come back.’ I
rolled my eyes and made to get up but my mum glared at me so I sat back
down with a huff.
‘It’s just…we’ve noticed you’re looking very…well, thin.’ My dad blurted out.
I laughed somewhat bitterly at this, ‘no
dad, I’m not. I’m fat! I look the same as I’ve looked since I tried on
those stupid jeans. I couldn’t be skinny even if I fasted 24/7. You
don’t have to lie to me!’
My mum held back a sob as she shook her
head frantically, ‘No darling, you’re not fat. You’re thin. Too thin.
You look unhealthy. Please, stop this nonsense. You’re wasting away.’
I got up this time. I didn’t need to
listen to this. What did they know? I wasn’t like Rooney Mara. Or Keira
Knightley. Or Kate Moss. I was a whale!
‘You guys don’t know anything. You want
me to eat?’ I half-yelled, going to the kitchen counter and grabbing a
muffin. ‘Fine!’ I stuffed it into my mouth. ‘There, I’ve eaten,’ I
mumbled through a full mouth ignoring their aghast looks. I ran to my
room and slammed the door locking it. Then I ran to the adjoining toilet
and threw up everything.
What did my parents know?
From that day, I ate in front of them
and smiled to myself as they studied me eat every last grain of rice or
pasta. I smiled as I hurried to the school loo and made myself throw up
every single time. Water with glucose became my best friend everytime I
felt faint. Of course I was always tired. Fat people were lazy and
always exhausted.
Then I fainted in school. I don’t know
what happened. The last thing I remember was getting up after a class
then everything went black. Next thing, I was waking up attached to a
drip. My parents were teary faced and sat next to my hospital bed still
in their work clothes.
”What happened?’ I croaked. I was so tired.
‘Oh, Nnenna,’ my mum cried as she
cradled my head. My dad said nothing and just stroked my arm. ‘Where did
we go wrong?’ I heard my mother ask herself.
What was going on? Why were they crying? Why was I in hospital? I was so confused.
The doctor came in and smiled at me gently, ‘Miss Nnenna Ike, how are you? It was a very close one this morning, you know?’
‘Close what?’ I asked looking round frantically.
‘You’re anorexic, Nnenna!’ My mum burst
out ignoring the doctor shaking her head vigorously. My mum went on,
‘You nearly died! You’re so underweight, you nearly died!’ She cried.
She was shaking so much my dad pulled her away from me.
I wasn’t anorexic! What a stupid lie. I
had bingo wings. And cellulite! I must have said these out loud as my
dad shook his head and pressed his fists to his eyes tightly. The doctor
sat down and held my hand as she said, ‘No, Miss Nnenna. That’s your
inner self, so self-hating, telling you all this. You’re not fat. Your
ribs are protruding. Your vertebrae and your hipbones are jutting out.
You’ve got extra hair covering your skin.’
I barely heard my mum asking the doctor
how an eleven year old could be anorexic. I didn’t care. All I could
think of was pretending to eat so I could get out of the hospital. I was
going to be skinny even if it killed me.
And it did.
Photo credit: tashythemushroom.deviantart.com
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