Last night, I went swimsuit shopping. It's a story for another time, but in short, my clothes don't fit me anymore because I gained 10 pounds during a two week course of prednisone that I needed for an allergic reaction to amoxicillin. That weight gain has made me 10 pounds heavier than I have ever been outside of pregnancy or postpartum.
I laughed at myself for the conflict I always have between my ideal (self-acceptance, focus on inner beauty rather than outer) and reality (hot damn I am a perfectionist). I didn't enjoy seeing a higher number on the swimsuit tag than ever before. I found things about my body that I'd love to change - some that will change as I work to lose that prednisone weight, and some that won't because that's just how my body is built thanks to genetics and my nine pound babies. But I also appreciated things. I appreciated the fact that the Victoria's Secret body I used to have has been replaced by something much more important: a mother's body. I appreciated the way the extra weight has contributed to the boobs. Most importantly, I appreciated my health and the availability of the powerful drug that kept a miserable allergic reaction from crossing over into a life-threatening one. I appreciated that I'd matured enough to have this perspective, having no idea that the perspective was about to increase further.
Right after the swimsuit purchase, I saw a young woman with an older woman whom I assume to be her mother given the way they were interacting. The older woman was obese, but not in any unusual way in today's society; I never would have noticed her weight under normal circumstances. It was her daughter's weight that brought my attention to it.
This young woman was the thinnest person I have ever seen. This is an understatement. The first part of her that I saw was her shoulder, and I thought it was deformed for a moment before I realized it was just lacking all muscle and fat. As I changed focus and saw her whole body, my eyes stung with tears, my stomach lurched, and I recognized that I risked hyperventilating in time to take slow, conscious breaths. Living death was walking in front of me. I worked to control my body, to breathe, to keep blinking my tears back, to keep my shaking to a small tremble, and in doing so I let my thoughts go.
"Anorexia. Could it be anything else? Chemo? Genetic disease? No, she's wearing other hallmarks of anorexia, the makeup and hair coloring that obscure her, and that hair is eating disorder hair, not chemo hair, not healthy hair. She's got months to live if nothing changes, I can't believe she's not hospitalized, she's got a week or few before that, or maybe they just let her out? No, they wouldn't, not with her still so skinny. Her mother, doesn't she see it? It's so severe, how could she not see it? Has she fought her heart out to save her, but it's a losing battle like watching your child battle a drug addiction? Does her heart break every day? Or is her image of her daughter just as distorted as her daughter's image of herself? Am I a jerk for wanting to say something to her, for wanting to just say, "Please get her help, this is dangerous"? Or am I irresponsible to let this family walk away not having said anything? Even if she gets help now, she's probably done permanent damage to her body - what will happen to her in the long-term? How can I keep my babies from this? And everyone else. This needs to end for everyone."
I wonder what percentage of Americans have a healthy relationship with their bodies and with food. I wonder what percentage of Americans are a healthy weight. Obesity poses health risks, but from the studies I've seen, the risks of underweight are even greater. All the impossibly thin people we see in the media - the "sexy" and "fit" - contribute to both underweight and overweight. People then either do all they can to conform to impossible standards to the point that healthy choices are disregarded, or recognize that it's impossible and giving up to the point that healthy choices are disregarded. The food crisis contributes too - if your food isn't nutritious, you can either eat too much of it in an effort to get your needs met, or you can easily starve yourself since you weren't getting your nutritional needs met in the first place.
Of course, it's not just our society; true anorexia nervosa is a mental illness that crosses cultural boundaries. But just as the asceticism of the medieval church led to a rash of anorexia then, our culture is embracing ideals that contribute now.
Eating disorders have a higher mortality rate than any other mental health disorder. If you or someone you know struggles with one, please intervene as soon as you recognize it. It's not worth your health.
http://www.anad.org/
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