Thin Skin.
July 8th, 2006 by Kevin
I went out to the karaoke dive Thursday night and was having a pretty good time when I found msyself confronted with a person who made me stop, stand stock still and stare like a fool.
This was no gorgeous man, no celebrity, nor was it a person of stunning good looks.
She was simply thin.
“Thin” is really not exactly an appropriate description for this particular woman, actually. She was emaciated.
She was probably about my mother’s height, which is five feet, four inches; and I would be astonished if she weighed more than seventy-five or eighty pounds. She looked to be in her early twenties.
I stared foolishly, unable to help myself, even though I know how irritating it can be when people stare.
I didn’t stare because I was concerned for her health, because I knew she was at risk for osteoporosis and heart failure and electrolyte imbalance and dangerously low blood pressure and all of the other ills of anorexia that I unfortunately know a great deal about, having learned the hard way.
I stared because I was so fucking jealous that I could have cried.
I like to believe that I have come to accept my body, my tall, big body that takes up space with its sizeable ass and big boobs and chunky thighs; my body with its c-sectioned belly and stretch marks and saddlebags, but the truth is that I still loathe it just as much as I ever did - I have only become a better pretender.
I eat in public now. I still count the calories of every bite and sip that goes into my mouth, but I do eat. Often times I eat too much.
I stared at her bones, her stark, visible bones, and I instinctively reached for my own ribs and shoulders and found them covered and untouchable. It made me ache. I haven’t seen anyone in that condition either since I was in a psychiatric ward being force-fed, or since I was still modeling - I forget which.
I knew that she knew I was staring and I knew that it was probably making her uncomfortable but I didn’t care. I remembered the feeling of sharp hipbones and thighs that did not spread, not even the slightest bit, and my jaw set.
Even though I know it is destructive, and even know I know that it is wrong, even though I take double vitamins and calcium supplements daily to undo what I have done to myself through years of starvation and bingeing and purging and willfully killing my body, and even though I know that most of my back problems are probably related to anorexia, sometimes I still covet thinness so much that I can taste it. I can feel it fluttering under my ribs like a trapped bird, just waiting to be set free.
It’s so tempting sometimes just to stop again, just to quit food like people quit eating meat at Lent and go back, back to that state, back to being that girl, that cold, shivering, cross-armed girl who had no ass and who took up no space.
I won’t do it, but it calls to me sometimes.
She left, and as I watched her skeletal form approach the door I could feel her every movement - feet grinding into shoes, dry skin against jeans; wispy, hair pulled back into a swaying ponytail to hide the thinning; delicate wrists fluttering.
Sometimes I think I miss thin like I miss a cherished lover, but I suppose it’s much more like the way one would miss an abusive lover that one just can’t bear to leave.
Happy Saturday. Eat, drink, and be merry.
Angela wrote on 07/8/06 at 10:45 am :
That woman you saw was just like my mom. Only she used to stand 5′4″. Its more like 5 even now with her super slumped back. Its been 6 years and she still refuses help and I fear that we will be losing her in the next few years because I know that there is no way she will ever be able to recover what she has lost. You are so beautiful Jen, I hope you only miss that body and those feelings for mere minutes before you feel good in your own skin again!
Robin wrote on 07/8/06 at 11:40 am :
I know that this illness is caused by a need for control; however, when you write about this girl, you write about the feeling of being thin, and missing the way your body “felt” to you at that time. Can you clue me in about why you, in particular, fell into trap of anorexia. With your illnesses, I can completely understand you wanting to control some aspect of your physicality, but that’s not what I’m hearing from you. What am I missing?
I am much older than you - 40 this year - and I weigh 110 at 5′1″. I have come to accept that any desire to be more thin is not for myself or my husband. It is rather for other women, so that they can admire my restraint around food. When I realized that, I started to be curious about just how far that can go. You write so well and I understand you so well; that I’d like your perspective about this. I know the comments aren’t a place to solicit conversations, but maybe you could post about this sometime soon?
trancejen wrote on 07/8/06 at 12:04 pm :
It is control, in a sense. It’s a sick desire for control over the one thing you can control when you feel you can’t control anything else, it’s a desire to feel empty, it’s a desire to feel strong (when it actuality it makes one weak), it’s a desire to win some sort of horrible contest with oneself, it’s a desire to compete with other women, with what media images tell us we should be; but mainly it comes down to hunger.
It’s all about hunger, I think. Hunger and desire, and the fear of hunger and desire, and wanting to repress all human hungers and desires - food, sex, human companionship - all these things are taken away by anorexia.
I think most people that develop anorexia fear their own wants and needs more than anything else and grasp at starvation in an effort to control them.
Thinness is just a small part of the pie. It does begin to feel good, though. It begins to feel like a payoff, and the thinner you become, the more you feel as if you are “winning”, succeeding at your game. You need nothing, you are strong, you don’t need food, people, love, companionship - you can exist on air. Visible bones signify victory, at least they did for me. I found them absolutely erotic, as sick as that sounds. They made me feel good about myself when nothing else did.
Once my archives are up I have many entries about eating disorder that delve deeper into these issues. If I can ever figure out how to convert to WordPress, that is.
Steph wrote on 07/8/06 at 12:10 pm :
I could get really wordy here, but I won’t. I’ll just say *I know*.
Stay healthy. The J-man needs you.
Kungfukitten wrote on 07/8/06 at 1:27 pm :
I don’t know how I made it through high school and college without becoming anorexic, I really don’t know how I escaped that trap. I blame having sex with boys who liked big boobs and alcohol. But seriously, you just lost some weight the healthy way and look great. You’re a mom now and need to have a body that’s huggable and strong enough to carry your son if he ever - God Forbid - flieds off his skateboard and smacks his head. Your body has work that it can’t do or be if you weigh a wispy 80 pounds. I applaud you for taking such good care of yourself. You look beautiful and sexy just the way you are.
Trish wrote on 07/9/06 at 12:59 am :
Yep. I’m with ya on this one.
artgnome wrote on 07/9/06 at 7:54 am :
my thinness came from sex and drugs and rock and roll. I never saw myself as an emaciated addict, only fat. I also remember it being the most miserable time of my life. Since all I focused on was my body, so did everyone else. It didn’t gain me love, it only got me used.
I’m doing it now the old-fashioned way, with fitness. It’s taking me three times as long to lose it because my metabolism is so fucked up from previous habits (starvation, chain-smoking, cocaine). But I’m beginning to like myself more and more for who I am, and my physicality is mattering less and less.
Just remember the bad aspects of any bad habit, it can help one keep from picking up the torch again.
jaoi wrote on 07/10/06 at 1:48 pm :
“Sometimes I think I miss thin like I miss a cherished lover, but I suppose it’s much more like the way one would miss an abusive lover that one just can’t bear to leave.”
whoo, yeah, exactly. and once you’ve been with an abuser for long enough it becomes very hard to even recognize what’s going on as abuse. other people flipping out, trying to save you, and you’re going… save me from what? this is the way it’s supposed to be.
probably that’s just me.
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