E.D.U.: the Eating Disordered Underground
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I see her every morning, as I drive to the gym..it is early, the sun only beginning to rise. She walks fast and hard, looking straight ahead. Her body is so frail, the shadow of her rail-like legs show through her thin pants. It is very cold out and she, is wearing only a T-shirt. I want to stop, to pull over, to take her to a coffe shop and sit with her and talk. I have been where she is, infact I am still there myself. I am learning now, however, to begin to trust life a little. I want to share with her what I have learned over these past years. I want to tell her she is not alone...I am with her every morning... as we both work our bodies to some unatainable goal.
We are everywhere, in the grocery store, at the mall, in school, at the gym. We know each other, we understand each other, but we never speak.
My heart is with all of you..I see you, I understand you..you are not alone. -J.C.
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an Eating Disordered Underground poem: For the Stranger Watching Me in My Anorexic Frenzy
each day we play peak-a-boo, you peeping into my private world without hesitation... as my anorexic logic pushes me one more mile, no, two more, well, maybe four (as long as it's an even number, I won't care)... the sun drills holes in my back, my flesh hangs loose and sore- then I catch you watching me around and around again, there she goes again, I can make you dizzy and make the frenzied birds lose your interest... my detailed plans fascinate your every move, don't they?
the wind parts my stiff hair, blinds my burning eyes- but I don't need to see the track today... I know each inch, carefully, closely, meticulously, endlessly
I've been driven to study something at last! my cluttered mind ticking thoughts running faster than I can-
until they come back to you... You are still there, watching, wondering, questioning don't you wish you could talk to me? stop me? know me? climb inside these boney arms?
I'd be happy to trade with you... bare your relaxed body, gazing mood, as if you enjoy being out here under the sticky sun, over the sweating concrete and sand, you actually look comfortable to me... a cozy bed, gentle hand... all that shit I've heard about in Hallmarks and never took the chance to find out-
it's all resting there, in your solid eyes, as they continue following me, around and around again, all day, same thing, again and again and then my stubborn tutor voice inside my head wakes me from this dream,
this cycle, simple circle, a structured belief to follow, and I notice the sun setting (has it been that long? what time did I start?)
so my legs begin to slow... the track grows visible again, and the wind dies with the sun... I had to learn how to stop myself (you get used to it after a while)
and I find myself at your feet, finally stopped, thinking you might want to say something to me... but you don't-
you just continue to watch my motionless figure.. studying each bump of my tender, burnt skin... I wait, chills swarming up my back, and wait
I guess you don't need to say anything nothing either of us would allow at this point, anyway.
I take a last cruel stare in your busy eyes and make my way back to the track. We play our roles beautifully around and around again, until sunrise again- and again.
By Lisa Arndt (dedicated to the first of May 1994 spent on the track) Copyright 1994
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Lisa,
I had ducked into the cold, silent restroom at Lord & Taylor's to feed my baby (so as not to inadvertently expose myself to any passers-by) and sat in a stall. Lifting my shirt, I sucked in my breath with disgust at the loose roll of flesh on my abdomen. As I filled with the fierce determination to be rid of it, no matter what the cost, I heard the urgent click of high heels approaching.
Another stall door squeaked and slammed closed. All was quiet for about 30 seconds, then I heard the retching and coughing begin. My first thought was, Aha! One of us! But, maybe she had the flu or morning sickness. I didn't think so, though.
After this went on for a minute or two, the door swung open. Through the gap between the wall and my door, I saw the young woman emerge. She was tall and quite striking in a burgundy blazer (with a store nametag) and black turtleneck and pleated skirt, from which tiny hose-clad calves poked out underneath. Still, my suspicions weren't confirmed until she opened her purse and brought out The Kit. A clear Baggie containing travel toothbrush, toothpaste, Scope, Certs, lipstick, and hand lotion. I watched her in the mirror as she performed the cleansing part of the ritual, so familiar to me. She finished, measured her small waist (23 inches? 22?) with her hands and smiled (grimaced) at her reflection before striding out of the restroom.
The entire time I watched her, I was torn between the feelings of deja vu and longing for this covert ritual, and the silent sorority with the woman, and wishing I could say something to help her conquer the damaging and disgusting behavior. I went home, however, with renewed conviction: to halt my overeating and be thin again. I knew how.
I wonder if she knew someone was watching her?
S., age 21, veteran and re-enlisted sufferer
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As far as as "sightings" go, I was in K-Mart on Tuesday night. The first thing I noticed about the girl checking our stuff out was her arms. That's all I could look at, were her arms. Then, I looked to see if her collar bone stuck out (old habit of mine, always checking my collar bone) and I got so scared for her. She saw me looking at her, and she knew I figured her out, but she also knew why I could figure her out. I know what to look for. After Steven and I left K-Mart, I told him I wished I would have said something to her. I don't know what I would have said, but I think the right words could have been said. We live in a very small town, and I was suprised that I had no idea who she was. I wish I could have helped her, however, she scared me into going home and having a milkshake. I just hope she can save herself before it's too late. -K
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