Elaine sat on her bathroom floor, sobbing and wondering why all of this had happened to her. She thought of all those times she had tried to fit in, only to be ostracized even further, and all of a sudden, she was even angrier than before.
She trudged to the kitchen and found herself a big bag of chips. She hesitated before opening it, seeing as food was one of her problems.
“Screw it,” she told herself, “it does not matter anyway. Nothing is ever going to change.”
It was true. No matter where Elaine went, and no matter what Elaine did, there was always a hierarchical social structure, and she always found herself on the bottom. She was never pretty enough, never skinny enough, never funny enough, and never, ever, ever good enough.
Elaine depended on the approval of others more than she cared to admit. Her life, in comparison to others, was a breeze, and yet, she felt like she was missing something she ought to have. Her mother said she was missing self-confidence. Her father said she was missing a sense of humor. Her brother said that she was missing her brain entirely.
Jack. He was the one that everyone always complimented, asked about, was proud of. It was his standard that she could never aspire to. Where Elaine did a good job, Jack excelled. He was the worst kind of sibling to have.
Jack was off at Duke, or Cambridge, or Harvard (one of those), undoubtedly being the life of the party and the guy that all of the girls wanted to date. Elaine harbored a great deal of resentment towards Jack, and for good reason. Jack was never a very compassionate brother, preferring to be blunt to Elaine and no one else. Towards anyone else in the world, Jack was as sickeningly sweet as honey. The last thing Jack said to her before leaving for university was, “You know, Elaine, you really ought to look into liposuction.”
As Elaine polished off the “family size” bag of chips, she felt so determined, so strong. The annual family reunion was scheduled for next month, and she would show him that she did not need liposuction. Thus was born Operation 115. Elaine, at the moment, weighed 180 pounds, which was (apparently) not socially acceptable for a 5’4” 15 year old.
All her life, Elaine had been blaming other people for her problems. Tonight, however, when her spite for other people had run dry, she realized that all her problems stemmed from herself. That was the night Elaine became hungry.
Elaine’s food intake decreased gradually at first, then stopped altogether. Elaine’s hunger went further than the lack of food, however, as she yearned for acceptance. Food was no longer an issue for her: what she craved now was some sort of recognition, any sort of recognition.
Pounds just about melted off, and soon enough, Elaine weighed 165 pounds. There was definitely a visible difference, but it was not enough. She was still 50 pounds away from her goal.
Her mother, seeing that Elaine was trying to lose weight, started cooking healthier things, but was dismayed to always find Elaine’s plate just as full as when dinner started. Elaine’s few friends also noticed that Elaine had stopped eating lunch with them, preferring to burn the calories she was not consuming on the track, or wherever else she could.
Elaine realized that this sort of lifestyle would arouse a lot of suspicion, so she succumbed to eating four to five times a week to appease her mother. The food that she ate would then be vomited up a few minutes later.
Elaine noticed that her period stopped coming, but she did not think much of it. It was inconvenient anyway. She also noticed she was pastier than usual. Elaine had always been pretty pale, but as of late, it was almost as if you could see right through her. That did not matter either; self-tanner would fix that in an instant.
There were definitely results. Within two weeks, Elaine weighed 125 pounds. The weight loss in itself was really impressive, and yet Elaine would not be satisfied. Lately, Elaine had had trouble breathing, even when she was just walking, and this frustrated her. Running was extremely difficult, swimming was next to impossible, and active movement caused her so much pain that she had to stop after only a few minutes.
It came to a point where it hurt to even get out of bed. All Elaine could do was deteriorate, trapped. She felt like she was slowly wasting away, and there were so many more calories to burn, so many more miles to run, so many more pounds to be rid of. The soup that her mother brought her to comfort her was left alone, the smoothies her mother made were forgotten, and yet Elaine still struggled to leave the comfort of her sheets and carry on. Then one day, she broke.
She found herself in a hospital room, with white walls, white sheets, white pillows, a white floor, white flowers (who cared enough to send flowers?), and a nurse dressed in a white uniform and soft, off-white shoes. For the next 24 hours, Elaine was fussed over: IVs were injected, doctors took a lot of notes, the nurses spoke softly and fretfully, and there was a guard stationed outside her room.
When her parents finally came, Elaine could not take it any longer.
“Where am I? Why has no one told me what is going on? I need to get out. Please let’s go home. This is really inconvenient.”
Upon hearing this, her mother started sobbing and left the room, leaving her father to explain,
“Sweetie, when we found you on the floor of your bedroom, your pulse was so slow we thought you were dead. It never dawned on us that you stopped eating. We are so incredibly sorry. You should never feel like you have to change who you are because you’re not good enough.”
Much like the rest of us, Elaine’s story has no ending. At least, not yet. Elaine still has the rest of her life to have experiences, embrace the whims of life, and write her story. For closure, I will say that Elaine met her goal of 115 pounds by the family reunion, but Jack, as to be expected, was not impressed. Elaine returned to anorexia after she was released from the hospital, but like I said, who knows what the future holds?