All right, so I’m skinny. It’s not my fault I have a high metabolism, I’m always hungry and get the shakes if I go without food for more than a few hours. I’m actually within the weight range for my height, though just barely. I’m slender – I like that word better than skinny, which sounds unhealthy.
But I am not anorexic. Or bulimic. Or whatever other eating disorder you can barely pronounce that you think I have. Where do people get off, accusing others of having a disease? How fucking sick is that? Being accused of being sick!
I have nothing but the sincerest sympathy for women, girls and yes, men who suffer from anorexia, bulimia, and other eating disorders. They have a terrible illness. But I am NOT ill! I’ve talked to several doctors, they all confirmed that I am the picture of health and that, though I could stand to gain a few more pounds, I was not in any danger.
I had an interesting conversation with my English teacher and a classmate one afternoon on this very subject. My classmate said that people asked her if she was anorexic, and that it pissed her off. “It’s not a compliment,” she said, “it’s a disease. I’m not anorexic and even if I was I wouldn’t be proud to be.”
“I know what you mean,” I replied. Are we so warped that being ill is seen as a Good Thing, as long as it allows us to look like Starving Ethiopian Children and therefore conform to idiotic beauty standards? Sometimes humanity just disgusts me.
“The sad thing is,” my classmate goes on to say, “is that you can’t even deny it, because people just think Oh, she’s really anorexic, she’s just in denial. All anorexics are in denial, I saw it on Dateline last week. So if you say you’re not they just believe it’s true even more.”
If we say we aren’t, we’re in denial. We won’t say we are, because we’re not. Must I gnaw my leg off to get out of this trap?