The First Bite
The small vegetarian cafe was crowded, filled with college kids cramming on a Sunday afternoon and the eclectic blend of Santa Cruz natives. It fed my appetite for people watching. But my other appetite, well…
“Aren’t you going to eat something? Do you want to go somewhere else?” my date asked. God, he was cute. Tall, slim, dark skin, a huge smile. He was my first real date, and he was WAY out of my league.
“I’m okay,” I said nervously. This is what people did, what normal couples did together. But I was not normal.
“At least try one of these chips, tell me they’re not the best chips ever,” he handed the thin tortilla chip to me, and I took a small bite and agreed.
The counting in my head started. “1 serving of chips is usually about 11 chips and 150 calories, this one chip is probably about 15 calories, I need to work out for an extra half-hour when I get home, just to be sure…” It had been at least 24 hours since I had eaten anything.
This was the first of many similar dates, but eventually, Jason* got me to eat something. Between band practices (he was the lead singer of a punk band) and the long drive from my hometown to his, the absence of eating became apparent.
“You know that’s a real problem, right? Like a psychological issue…”
“Oh yeah. No, I’m okay…just not hungry.”
Not The Real Me, But The Best Me
Jason was three years older and from two towns away. He never saw the awkward overweight grade school photos or the horror stories of private middle school. I preferred the curated MySpace version of me that he got to know — shy, subservient, starving, sexual. It wasn’t the real me but it was the best impression of what I thought he wanted.
When he said he loved me, two months in and one month after we first had sex, I felt like I had won the lottery. This gorgeous, talented guy had chosen me — and now I just had to prove myself worthy.
But keeping up the facade was difficult.
Our first night together, he confided in me that he couldn’t stay hard in a condom, and insisted that I could go get the morning after pill tomorrow — he’d even drive me, it’d be a piece of cake! Except the next day was a Sunday and the building was closed. He dropped me off at home with a kiss and made me promise to take care of it.
I remember lying in the bathtub, tracing the smooth lines of my flat stomach and wondering, what if? I wasn’t that girl, the one who got pregnant in high school. I was pro choice, I was “responsible”. So I swore my older brother to secrecy and begged him to drive me to our local Planned Parenthood.
I waited in a full waiting room for two hours before they closed for the day, and I was still unseen. My boyfriend was becoming concerned.
“You said you’d take care of it!”
“I tried! I’m sure it’s fine!”
“I’m healthy, and you’re healthy. So there is nothing to keep you from being pregnant.”
I hung up my cellphone in tears and texted my best friend, who told me to meet her outside of school the next morning. It wasn’t my first time ditching class, but it was my first time traveling across town on public transportation. We arrived at the clinic as they opened and were finished in four hours. I took the first of two morning after pills and had 6 months worth of birth control to start next.
Here’s The Thing They Didn’t Tell 17-Year-Old Girls in 2004
But here’s the thing they didn’t tell 17 year old girls in 2004. The eating disorder combined with the birth control caused me to slide into a serious depression. I walked around feeling hopeless and numb. And despite redoubling my efforts and cutting my diet back even more, I started to gain weight.
And then Thanksgiving hit. My brother and I left the family gathering early, with a 3 hour drive ahead of us, as we both had partners we wanted to see. Halfway home, I was wracked by extreme cramping and nausea. I knew I wasn’t pregnant, my period was always heavy and very present. When we got home, I threw up and writhed in the bathtub, and then the pain subsided. I put on a black coat and short skirt and spent a few hours with my boyfriend. The sex was mediocre, I realize now he was a really selfish lover. But I felt wanted and adored.
And then the pain came back. Often, and violently. Before meals, in the middle of shows, during sex. One night, I was at my boyfriend’s place and trying to crawl to the bathroom to throw up. I was crying and pleading when the pain mercifully passed.
My parents didn’t know me well at that point, but I was scared and told my mom that I felt sick. She took me to a clinic where they diagnosed me with an ulcer and gave me an antibiotic regimen, but I threw up the pills as soon as I tried to get them down.
My parents thought I was bulimic (wrong eating disorder!) or pregnant and grew more angry every time I got sick.
The day that my urine turned a dark brownish orange, and I mentioned it to my mom in passing. She was a receptionist for a GI doctor and panicked, fearing that my liver was failing. I texted my boyfriend to let him know I was going to the hospital, then that I was admitted for emergency gallbladder removal.
The procedure and recovery were a shitshow, my parents seemed to forget that I was a minor and my surgery was delayed while they spent the day at a restaurant and a movie. But eventually, things got underway on New Year’s Eve 2004.
Afterward, I started to heal and was able to spend weekends with my boyfriend again. Except now, I was sick every time I ate, and the weight just kept creeping upward while my mood was a dark cloud.
He Was Seeing Behind The Veil and Was Not Impressed
I remember him telling me that he loved me and wanted me to lose weight because of health reasons. Panic set in…he was seeing behind the veil and not impressed.
I pretended everything was fine. I started cardio kickboxing with a friend from school. I started restricting my calories again. I threw all of my energy into being the perfect girlfriend. But it wasn’t enough.
A couple months later, he gave me some excuse for not spending the weekend together and then had a surprise visit from an old female friend. The whole thing was documented on MySpace, his arms around the girl, alcohol bottles he swore he would never drink in the background. That afternoon, he called to break up with me.
I hung up the phone and collapsed on my parent’s bed, telling my mother I didn’t know what to do. My heart was broken but the worst part was the inevitability of it all. It felt justified — I was unworthy.
Getting Over You, But Still Not Into Me
It took a long rebound relationship where I was the unfaithful one to get over Jason. And the guy I fell for has been my best friend for 13 years and husband for 7, through ups and downs in life and on the goddamn scale.
So here’s to you, Jason. My first love, who loved me just enough to encourage me to eat, but not enough to date the larger, healthier version of me. You never met the real me, and you never will.
*name changed
