In Pursuit of Perfection

The doctor’s office is freezing cold, I hate that I’m always so cold. I hate that the doctor makes me change into a hospital gown to get weighed. Sure at home I weigh myself naked, but unlike the doctor I won’t admit myself to the hospital if my weight goes under 70 pounds.1

The nurse knocks on the door.2

“Did you finish changing into the gown?” she asks.3

“Yeah,” I respond.4

Quickly I make sure the batteries I taped in my armpits aren’t in danger of falling. The nurse comes in with her clipboard that has a chart of my plunging weight. She looks at me for a long moment.5

“You took your bra and underwear off as well right?” she asks.
I nod. The only thing I’m wearing is the gown and the batteries. I whisper a silent prayer to the god of ana that the batteries are enough to keep my weight above 70. At home this morning I was 64 but I hadn’t drank any diet coke at that point either.6

“Step up,” the nurse instructs me. 7

I step up practically holding my breath as I watch the scale weights. The nurse puts them at 73, that’s how much I weighed at my appointment two weeks ago. The number is written down in my diary, ingrained in my head. My goal these past two weeks has been to get under 70 on the scales at home. For the doctor’s office I need to weigh 70.1 pounds, any lower and I am in deep trouble. Today I drank 32 ounces of diet coke to help my weight bounce up and keep my out of the torture chamber known as the hospital.8

The nurse shifts the weights to the left. I am lighter then 73. She shifts them even more to the right. I’m lighter then 72, she shifts them even more to the right, shit, I’m lighter then 70. My breath whooshes out all at once. I’m below the weight that Dr. Kaley said was too low. This means when she sees that number I’m off to the hospital for tube feeding. No. No. No. This can’t be happening. No way. I’ve worked so hard, put all my energy into my diet and now they’re going to try to take that all away by forcing me, against my will, to gain it back.9

My breaths are coming in too fast and I’m even more lightheaded then usual.10

“You’ve lost too much weight,” the nurse comments.11

I like that she says that, and I hate it, both at the same time.12

“Have a seat on the examination table, so I can check your vitals,” she directs as though the fact that I’m about to be sentenced to “fattening” treatments isn’t a big deal.13

Wobbling as I walk, I make it over to the exam table. The world is swirling and dancing around me, I am light like air, I am pure like water. I can’t let anyone take that from me.14

“Your blood pressure is 78/49, that’s way too low,” the nurse tells me.15

I like that my blood pressure is low, to me it’s a sign of success. I have the ultimate control over my body. 16

“Your heart rate is in the forties, that’s no good,”
I solemnly shake my head, pretending that I’m worried about my body. I’m not. My body is stronger than people give it credit for. I am high from weight loss. The world looks brighter, sharper, clearer to me. I will be okay. I am nearing perfection as long as they don’t screw it up.17

Dr. Kaley comes in. She looks at my chart that the nurse handed off to her. She shakes her head sadly.18

“We had a deal Tessa, you keep your weight above seventy and I don’t hospitalize you. You didn’t keep up your end.”
I gulp and swallow, my heart that everyone says beats too slowly, sure doesn’t feels slow right now.19

“I’m going to get your mom and let her know that she needs to bring you to the ER, I’ll call ahead so you can be seen quicker.” She tell me.20

Tears slide down my cheeks. I’m about to lose all my progress. This can’t be happening. I swallow again. Tears fall faster. Dr. Kaley puts her hand on my bony shoulder, but says nothing.
In the pursuit of perfect control, my life has slid out of control at warp speed. It’s not fair.