Don't Look At Me: A Teen Girl's Dying Self-Worth

THE PROBLEM:I whirl past the waiter so fast that he stumbles back a few steps, struggling to balance the tray wobbling on his forearm. I don’t have time to apologize. My watch tells me I’m already six minutes late. I loathe every second that passes while my feet make their way around table after table. Only a few more steps to go. I can literally feel myself spreading.

Finally. My fist pummels the door that reads WOMEN’S RESTROOM. I don’t care if someone is already here. I’ve learned to be silent. I just need to get rid of everything now. I traipse all the way back to the last stall, clutching my protruding belly, and eager for the coming relief.

Once inside, I poke two willing fingers into my mouth. My teeth scrape the top of each, and I flinch because of the already sore area. Just a little further. My body responds with a soundless jerk, and I yank the toilet handle with my other hand. The noise of the swishing water drowns out the sound of food chunks plummeting in.

It’s a smooth expulsion, not lasting longer than 15 seconds.

I float on air as I stroll out of the tiny stall. A satisfied grin extends across my face. I clear my throat, and drive my hand down into my pocket for a peppermint to mask the awful taste left in my mouth. That was close. I lift up my shirt to examine my once again flat abdomen. Thank goodness. I promise myself to NEVER go longer than thirty minutes next time. That’s the cutoff to get the best results. Thirty minutes from the time I start eating.

The force of a dilemma has to be comparable to the force of its resolution. That’s why I chose to employ this tactic. The other girls in my dance class are all thinner than I am. I feel like a WIDE LOAD sign should be on my butt when I walk around the studio, or when my dance teacher pinches my side with a giggle. “I see you ate good last night,” is her favorite greeting. She welcomes me with it at least once a week.

Staring in the mirror before class begins, I examine myself from head to toe. My size 4 body looks plump in leotard and tights today. I can see where the tights begin on my waist. The elastic cuts into my fat, creating the look of two inner tubes stacked on top of one another. “You should’ve gotten there sooner.” I could slap myself for missing the 30-minute deadline. I know better. According to studies on digestion, the human body has not begun to digest most calories consumed within the first 30 minutes. Tears sting my eyes when I realize I’ve failed…again. I’ll only eat raw vegetables for the next week, and get rid of everything. I turn away from the mirror, listening to the thump of each heavy footstep while I make my way to my normal position.

Everything else is perfect. My grades, my social life, my family . Everything except my weight. I’ve done some research, so I’m aware of everything there is to know about bulimia. I know what I’m doing. This is what works for me. Besides puffy cheeks and a sore throat now and then, there isn’t much to worry about at all.

THE UGLY FACTS:
Bulimia Nervosa can cause: malnutrition; dehydration; electrolyte imbalance (which can lead to heart attack); vitamin deficiency; teeth erosion; swelling glands; rupture of the stomach; rupture of the esophagus; brittle skin, hair, and nails; high blood pressure; anemia; ceased monthly cycles; infertility; miscarriage; still-born pregnancies; diabetes; arthritis ; throat cancer; liver failure; kidney infection and failure; seizure; paralysis; and death .

THE BEAUTIFUL TRUTH:
Most people have heard the saying, “We’re all beautiful in our own way.” It’s something everyone should really take to heart. Among the billions of people on the Earth, there are billions of “shades of beauty .” You are one in a billion. Appreciate the uniqueness you bring to the world. Don’t conform to the physical mold everyone else tries so desperately to fit into. There is no one else like you, so we all need to see the way you shine!