Chicken Soup For The Soul- Redone

Weight Of The Matter

I started out at 123-and-a-half pounds at five foot six.

And that was a good weight. I was happy. I know now

That I was thin, even underweight. And I wanted to stay at

123-and-a-half, five foot six.

So I decided to eat less.

I stopped eating breakfast. And then lunch. I wasn't

Hungry anyway, right?

My stomach would growl painfully. And it felt good.

Next I was weighed at 110-and-a-half pounds. And this

Was not good, the doctor said. My mother wept and

Moaned that she had failed. And I wanted to stop it.

Soon, it became a sick and twisted game. How little

Could I get away with eating in a day? How many days

Could I go without driving my mother to tears? How long

Before anyone noticed me diminishing to nothing?

Yes, I heard the stories. If you were too thin, your body

Would live off your muscles, eat away at your heart.

Heart attack.

Without calcium, your bones become weak. Without the

Right nutrition, you die.

You don't sleep.

No oxygen to your brain. You can't think straight.

You don't have any energy to do anything. There is only

One main thought and action- lose weight.

And you are cold. Even in the dead of winter, you were

Never this cold. Layers of clothing can't keep the freezing

Out. Icy hands and feet. Numb fingers and toes. Blue nails.

Chapped lips. Pale skin. Maps of thin, ugly veins.

In the dark, in your room at night, it's like already being

Buried in that box. It's dark and cold down here. And

Lonely.

And there's a screaming in your head. It is fear, and no

One else can hear it. You don't want to gain weight. You

Don't want to die. You don't want to make other people

Unhappy. You don't want to be sad.

But you are afraid to be fat. You're afraid to die. And the

Screaming continues, piercing your eardrums.

Ninety-two pounds. A nutritionist, a physician, a thera-

Pist, and a weigh-in are your constant companions.

The all-important weigh-in that controls your entire life.

97. 104. 108. 108-and-three-quarters. 118. 114. 116. 119. 119-

And-a-half.

Right now, I'm 118, five foot six, and FAT.

And there's no one down here to hear me scream.

-Christina Courtemarche