I am a freshman college student, who, along with the rest of college students everywhere, was sent home from my favorite place. In seven short months I found my new home. I adjusted to sharing my room with my roommate, who turned out to be my best friend, I learned to make macaroni and cheese in the microwave, and I even overcame being directionally challenged as I learned how to get around campus without Google Maps. I genuinely loved college.
Once my first year was officially cut short, I was left heartbroken. I had to leave my friends who quickly became family, and I had to face the fact that my newfound freedom was being taken away from me.
I knew exactly what I was losing, I could feel it slipping through my fingers, however, what I did not realize, or remember, was what I would be coming home to.
I left my hometown of Deerfield, Illinois in August of 2019, and when I came back, I could not believe what I was seeing. I have two younger sisters, one a junior in high school and the other in eighth grade. They both looked so different to me when I got home, as did the food on their plates. They appeared to be eating healthier, but It was not long before I realized that their new eating habits were a direct result of the pressure they faced by their peers and their school's culture surrounding eating disorders.
Photo by Mackenzie Marco on Unsplash
Skinny is not the new pretty, healthy is the new pretty. There is a very fine line between the two in my hometown, one that pressures young girls into starving themselves and feeling the dire need to look a certain way.
I knew when I went to Deerfield High School there was undoubtedly an extreme issue with eating disorders, which could have even been viewed as the pandemic of its time. There were an innumerable amount of girls not only in my grade, but in my entire high school, who suffered from eating disorders. I, too, was one who experienced an onset eating disorder, and discovered first hand how mentally challenging it is. If my body ached begging me to take a day off from running or my stomach growled repeatedly telling me it needed food, I simply did not listen. Instead, I listened to the voices that told me I needed to be skinny and that no weight loss would ever be enough. After months of this, I stood at 5 feet and 6 inches tall weighing approximately 113 pounds. I remember the number, not only because it is the one on my drivers license, but because it was a number that I was proud to define myself by. However, now, the number 113 is not a symbol of my success story, rather, it is a symbol of one of my darkest days. One of the days where I, like many others in my community, surrendered to the pressure. The immense pressure, and the whispers, convinced me I must be skinny to be beautiful.
Fortunately, I was one of the lucky ones battling this all too frequent disorder. While I can confidently say I had enough time to recognize many of its true evils, I cannot say I entirely recovered from it. I was never admitted to a program, and was lucky enough to have the ability to gain weight. My mom recognized my condition early, and helped me gain the weight I needed in the comfort of my own home. Yet, I never fully shed its evils.
Anorexia presents itself in many different ways. In my hometown, it presents itself as the common cold, or even as terrible allergies. It presents itself differently in each patient, it is too often viewed as a simple, curable illness, and it can affect anybody.
After leaving Deerfield, Illinois for the first time in my eighteen years, I learned that the "eating disorder culture" that is so present at home, is not one that I see at school. I adjusted to eating my macaroni and cheese without feeling ashamed, I ate chocolate chips in my bed without a thought, and I kept Chex Mix and BBQ flavored Fritos in the top drawer of my nightstand for easy access. I still ate all of my fruits and vegetables too, of course, but I never, not even once, felt shame about feeding my body. Now that I am home, I have begun a new diet to shed the weight I gained from my seven short months of unashamed eating. I feel its evils sneaking up on me again, and I can sense my weight redefining how I live and who I am. I do not have a happy ending for my story yet, but am working hard to find my new healthy.
Like I said, there is a fine line between skinny being the new pretty and healthy being the new pretty, but that all can change, once eating disorders are no longer equated to the common cold.
Photo by Miguel Bruna on U
