Stacy's Story

Stacy was one of those girls who had it all. She was beautiful, slim, drove boys wild and did things like skydive, water ski, or surf in Australia during the spring break while other kids hung around the mall or played computer games. She was the beloved daughter of two middle-class, overprotecive parents, the sister of a young troublemaking brother, and overall your average rebellious sixteen-year old girl. The only difference was this: when her friends went off to their next class, Stacy slipped into the bathroom, locked herself in a stall, and vomited until she was gasping for air. What Stacy did was destroying her body and mind, robbing her of all happiness, self-esteem and the compassion of her friends. Even seeing herself in the mirror was starting to make her WANT to throw up; for what she saw was a girl ready to explode at any moment, about to morph into the hideous blob of an obese teenager with bright red acne and gelatin love handles.1

It all started one day at lunch, when her two best friends were sitting across from her, chatting excitedly when all of a sudden Alison said: "Holy crap! Greg Daniels is so cute but he never notices us...guess he prefers the less meaty types, huh?"2

"Less meaty types?" Stacy cocked her pale eyebrows at at Alison with indifference. She had never heard the term "meaty" before, and strangely the word in itself seemed so ugly, so sticky and dry in her mouth it tasted like old play-dough. 3

"We ain't skinny by a long shot", Alison said, rolling her blue eyes dramatically. She then proved her point by pinching Sabrina's arm, then pulling back the exposed skin with a snort of disgust. Sabrina winced. 4

"See? I need to lose at LEAST twenty pounds if Greg is gonna even aknowledge my existence. You shouldn't be eating those french fries, Sabrina, especially with all that gravy and cheese they put on 'em."5

"But it tastes good!" Sabrina snapped, shielding the fries with her hand, eyes flickering with defiance. "What are you, my calorie chart?"6

"How many calories are in the fries?" Stacy asked in a small voice.7

"Probably like five hundred. Women are supposed to consume 2,000 calories a day - a DAY - and we're already stuffing our maws with gooey cheesy fries, that's a lot of empty, disgusting fat that we don't need."8

"My jeans have been fitting a little bit tighter..." It was the most awful feeling in the world; Stacy felt sick, her stomach lurching, throat dry, not wanting to believe Alison's stupid comments on being fat and consuming calories and how she was going to be dumpy like all those other sweatshirt/sweatpant mothers lugging children behind them like wagons. Sadly, the girl noticed that, flipping through the glossy pages of Vogue magazines, the skinny jeans, stovepipe legs, and size 2 waist was apparently "IN STYLE." To be thin, you needed to be beautiful, and being fat meant you were nothing but a stupid dumpy girl that would make nothing of her life but pop out babies like a vending machine pops out change. Was this what Stacy REALLY wanted to make of her life? Frusterated, she made a vow to never eat another cheesestick, piece of cake, donut, or anything else deep-fried or greasy (this meant pizza ). After a while, however, she started to have violent hunger pangs. They got the worst around dinner time, when her mother would whirl around the kitchen plopping down steaming dishes of casseroles, delicious deep-layered lasagnas, and her famous peanut fudge brownies. When the horrendous episode of supper came to an end, Stacy waited until everybody had gone up to bed when, stomach growling like a wild animal, she pulled out a fork from the drawer and started munching on the dessert. 9

These were what she called her "binge cycles" - which were not in the least enjoyable experiences. Most of the time Stacy could not even taste the food, she was eating so fast, chewing rapidly and barely swallowing until more brownies entered her mouth. When this massive binging was finished, she would suddenly feel disgusting and gross again; like she weighed 300 pounds and the food inside her belly was a rock that needed to come out. Sticking a finger down her throat, Stacy emptied herself of the demonic calories, letting all the bad stuff pour into the freshly-scrubbed toilet bowl. This binge-and-purge cycle, known as "bulimia", continued for many secretive, hellish months...10

"I don't have any control over my cravings. When I'm hungry, I just do what most people do: I eat. Only the simple act of 'eating' turns into gobbling down half a package of cookies, or three slices of pizza for a snack...it gets so out of control that I'm not even thinking at times. Usually I would sneek laxatives from my parent's medicine cabinet, and swallowing those would regulate the binge pattern again. It's just not fair, you know? Sabrina's in cheerleading and she gets teased all the time because she has 'big hips' and can't do a good handstand like the other girls, who look like a bunch of giggly little pixies. Boys don't date fat chicks, they'd probably rather make out with their jockstraps then date a girl who's plump. After all, fat girls are fun to love, aren't they? They are always the ones left on the sidelines, the buddies of the handsome guys, those jolly sidekicks of pretty girls. I'm sick of being that girl. Being bulimic was the only time I had a sense of control, a sense of meaning in my life..and you took that away from me. You took everything away from me."11

"That's good. Let it all out, Stacy." The dark-haired psychiatrist nodded at her attentively, lips drawn tight across her expressionless face, eyes glassy as a dead bird's behind their small lenses. The drugs she had prescribed for Stacy were supposed to block her cravings, and they seemed to be working with slow but steady progress. Despite the things her friends said about diets and weight loss she mostly tuned them out, enjoying the reasonable portion of french fries, cookies, or whatever else her friends had deemed the "naughty foods." She exercised now also, three days a week, so nobody could say Stacy Mitchell was "lazy" (fat and lazy are usually part of the same package...). Although her confidence was rising, she still wasn't feeling 100% again; it felt like there were aliens trying to abduct her body, or maybe they wanted to swap it with that of a skinny, beautiful celebrity's? Whatever the reason, Stacy knew she still hadn't won the battle of the "skinny", and most likely never would. Letting out a sigh, she turned to the fidgety psychiatrist and folded her hands in her lap. 12

"Can I go now?"13

"Make sure to take those pills", Dr. Robyn said firmly. She clicked her tongue at Stacy, giving her the evil eye. "You ARE taking them regularly, right?"14

"Would I ever displease you, ma'am?"15

"You can tell me anything that happens..."16

"I'll scribble down my thoughts in a journal and give it to you for Christmas." Stacy tossed back a lock of brown hair, kicking at the ground impatiently. Her mother was supposed to pick her up from the clinic at 4:20, and it was already 4:25! She was going to be late for her cheerleading practice!17

"Have a great day, Stacy."18

She shot like a bullet out the door. For once, Stacy thought to herself with a fresh confidence, I feel like it's going to be the first great day of my life. 19


20

21

22

23