This is a paper I had to write for health class. It's a work of fiction.
|IMPORTANT:THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION THAT WAS WRITTEN FOR MY HEALTH CLASS. WE HAD TO PUT OURSELVES IN THE PLACE OF AN ANOREXIC OR OBESE PERSON. I CHOSE ANOREXIA.
I understand that I am anorexic and should eat something, but I can't. When I look in the mirror, all I can see is a 300-pound girl who always looks so sad. My friends notice that I'm always so cold and that I always wear baggy clothing and sweatshirts. I always tell them that it is nothing to be concerned about because my whole life I wore baggy clothing and the coldness is just from the weather. Most of my friends buy it, but the few that don't try to talk to a counselor for me. When it comes down to a counselor all they just say to me is, "Jessica, you are too thin. You can't exercise anymore because you are way too thin. Your friends even tell me you seem more paranoid than ever. For example, the other day you flipped out on them for telling you to eat something and you felt threatened."
Of course, I don't say anything. It is not true. Even though I have no appetite anymore, I've grown this hair on my body that feels like teddy bear hair, I'm always cold, I was kicked off my track team because I'm just too skinny and weak, my body temperature is 84 degrees, my tissues swell, hypo tension (low blood pressure), and I don't get my menstrual periods anymore.
It's all normal in my eyes. Though, most girls don't seem to have it, I'm sure I'm going through a phase. She claims she worries, but you know she's uncomfortable just by the way she's talking, playing with her pen, and even chewing on her nail on occasion. I know nervousness because some of my friends show the same thing or they are just too afraid to talk to me because of my angry outbursts.
I tell her I'll try to get help, but of course I don't mean it. I avoid my friends for the rest of the day. At the end of the day before I go home, I walk into the bathroom. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and all I can see is an overly fat, hideous, girl that no one can stand. I get angry at the mirror and punch it. I cut my hand and blood is everywhere. I walk out and see my dad.
"What happened to your hand?" he asks.
"Nothing," I lied.
"You looked in the mirror again. Jessica, we got a call from your counselor today. You're going for counseling."
I don't even beg and plead anymore. When we get home, dad puts a plate of spaghetti in front of me and tells me he's not leaving the table and I can't either until the spaghetti is done. I try to eat it, but I can't. I end up crying, pushing it away and even throwing up during that night. Dad tells me I have to eat it because I lost 50 pounds out of the 105 I used to weigh. Nine o'clock comes along and dad just gives up. I go to bed.
The next morning I wake up to Darkthrone. Mom comes into my room and tells me she made an appointment with a psychologist for the whole day, so I won't be going to school. I get dressed and in the car nothing is said. I just keep on thinking how crazy this psychologist will think I am and will lecture me on how pretty I am and oh, so skinny, when I know I'm wretched looking and overly fat. Then she will start blaming me on how I want to take after models, but I don't watch models. I hate that profession. Society wasn't what made me become so thin. It was people teasing me for being "chunky" and comparing me.
The car stops and we are at the psychologist. I am nervous, of course. We walk up the stairs and down a long corridor with red rugs and white walls with no pictures. It reminded me of the asylum when I went for excessive binging and purging, and suicidal tendencies. I still have the scars on my wrists from that. We walk to the door and mom opens it. This older lady, with grayish-brown hair in a bun greets me. She introduces herself as Dr. Jacobs.
She quietly tells my mom that she's going to put me in a hospital so I can be fed intravenously because I lost too much weight and can't eat on my own. My mom walks out and our counseling begins. We talked about different things, and I actually feel comfortable enough to accept what she said to me. She told me always being cold, growing that teddy bear hair, and being paranoid weren't just a phase and they weren't normal. When she also showed me pictures of how I was before, I still thought I was ugly and overly fat. She then prescribes me on medicine to help me out and I'm rushed to the hospital where I will stay until I'm back to my normal 105 pounds.
It was uncomfortable at first and only a few of my friends visited. The other friends I had wanted nothing to do with me because of the way I acted when I was anorexic. The friends that still stick by my side are thankful I am getting the treatment (though, I am gaining back my weight, even after this I will need psychotherapy treatment) and support me all the way.
Word Count: 917