Who's That Girl

Those Summer Days

A typical summer 2009 day: I wake up, eat a large bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats (my largest meal of the day, estimated to be around five hundred calories), go on a forty-five minute hike, play Wii Fit for thirty minutes, and weigh myself. If my stomach happened to look even slightly bloated, or as I thought of it, fat, I would immediately do a good fifty sit-ups until I was satisfied to see a flat, thin belly. Some time in the afternoon was lunch. Sometimes it was a Weight Watchers Smart One, but usually it was an eighty calorie yogurt cup, grapes, a slice of turkey, veggies,and a low calorie grain of some sort.

Later in the afternoon, I would eat a ninety calorie granola bar and then jump rope till I couldn't jump anymore, just to burn it off. I never really ate anything with out making sure I burned it off, and consequently, I rarely ate anything that would be too difficult to burn off. My one "indulgence" was chocolate yogurt covered raisins. I could eat a third of a bag in one sitting. They were the sweetest things I ate, and so I "binged" on them, savoring the chocolate taste I had always loved. Having them as a snack meant doing more than jumprope to burn them off. Perhaps more Wii Fit, or even a second hike. I was always starving by the time dinner rolled around, but I learned to ignore the hunger pains.

At dinner, I would sit down at the table with everyone else and pretty much eat like everyone else, except with no milk to drink, no butter, no sour cream, and no "junk". Soon, I began voicing my thoughts about eating healthier to my parents, and they actively supported me. We bought a book on nutrition, and I accompanied my mom to the grocery store everytime she went so that I could find the perfect, "safest" foods. After a while, my parents tired of everything I ate having to be just right, and got excited when I could find something that was "okay" to eat. Once, I even got to pick out a box of one hundred calorie graham cracker snack packs, an expensive and lavish commodity, just because my dad wanted me to eat.

Those little honey grahams were the best thing in the world then. I would eat them secretly in my room, while dancing to burn off their meager hundred calories. They were delicious, and I savored every last one. They were the only thing that made me feel as if food was my friend. And let's just say I wasn't too friendly with it.

My parents became concerned. The nutrition book became my Bible, the written word of my forbidden religion. My mom began arguing with me about taking so many walks and complained that I didn't drink milk or eat desserts. The worst was when we went out to eat. It was a struggle for me to even get in the car to go to a restaurant sometimes. Like on my sister's birthday. Just days before I was admitted.