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My Struggle with Bulimia This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Being supervised by my 13-year-old sister is weird. It’s even weirder that she’s watching me go to the bathroom. Well, okay, she’s actually just waiting outside the stall. But I knew she would follow me, I knew she would wash her hands, and I knew she would linger. When I open the door, she’s just standing there casually. “What are you doing?” I ask, even though I know.

“Just waiting for you.”

“Oh, okay.” And I’m not supposed to be mad, even though the situation is awkward and I can’t get any privacy when I’m using the bathroom. Of course, this only happens when I go after lunch.

Rewind to late May: I’m so near death that I can brush it with my eyelashes. My boyfriend, Jon, and I are competing to lose weight and I can’t shake off his saying, “It’s okay if you don’t lose as much weight as me, Lindsay. After all, I’m a guy.” I don’t like losing anything except weight, 20 pounds of which disappears in a month and a half. But 10 pounds is all it took for me to forget about beating Jon and winning the $200 bet.

Hey, I look good; I look damn good. I should keep this up. I’m convinced, though, that it isn’t enough to just keep exercising and scraping by on water, hard-boiled egg whites, and salad (which is actually just lettuce and tomatoes – no dressing, croutons, or even corn because of the carbs). If I want to be tinier with every glance in the mirror, I’ll need a better strategy. So I become a double-barreled bulimic; I’m the purging type and the non-purging type. Purging is just a nicer way of saying “self-induced vomiting.” It isn’t pleasant but people are convinced that I eat. Non-purging, also called exercise bulimia, is when I sweat off what little I’ve eaten and more. One website calls it “secretly vomiting,” but I think of it as added insurance.

I recommend bulimia for anyone self-deluded enough to ignore feeling terrible all the time: “This bottle of aspirin must be full of placebos because my headaches won’t go away. The doctor is insane; I’m not running too much, and my knee and hip pains can’t be early signs of arthritis. My esophagus isn’t corroded. My voice isn’t raspy. I can keep getting away with this. It’ll be worth it. I feel fine. I’m not bulimic.”

Then I’m wailing my confession to Jon about having bulimia and how much work it is to hide and how scared I am about not getting my period this month, and I hate myself for developing bulimia in the first place, and I’m sorry but I need to back out of our competition. He says that’s fine. We’ll fix it together. Plus, he misses pizza.

For the next month, I eat only with Jon so he can be sure I relearn to eat healthfully. At first I feel like a criminal exercising only once a day and eating food I can taste, but my complaints are short-lived.

It’s the end of July and I’m driving with my friend Kelli. She knows I helped stuff that guy’s mailbox with defective donuts from the Krispy Kreme dumpster. I’m the only person she told when she backed into a car. Secrets are only fun if you have a best friend to share them with.

There’s a lull in the conversation before she says, “You never told me who won that thing between you and Jon.”

The saltiness of my fingertips floods my tongue and tickles my throat. “I called it off.”

“Really? Why?”

Lie, don’t lie, lie, don’t lie, lie, don’t lie, lie, don’t lie, don’t lie. Why would you lie to your best friend? “Because I became bulimic.”

“Oh, Lindsay.” She turns her head from the road and looks at me. I’ve never heard Kelli say my name in that disappointed tone before.

“I’m okay now. Really. Jon and I worked through it and I’m fine.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I believe you.” Good. There are times when you should be honest. This wasn’t one of them.

Kelli comes by the next afternoon. She starts sobbing when she sees me. She says that she cried all day yesterday while researching bulimia and calling eating disorder hotlines. She doesn’t understand why I have a negative body image. She insists that I don’t need to lose weight. She is scared for me.

Didn’t I tell her that I was fine? Why didn’t she believe me?

“Lindsay, you have to tell your parents.”

WHAT? “What? Why?! It isn’t a problem anymore. I don’t want them to worry over something that’s in the past.”

“I know, but they need to know.”

“No. No, they don’t, actually.”

“Lindsay, if you don’t tell them, I will. If something happens to you and they find out I knew, I won’t be able to live with that.” Since when is this about you, Kelli? “I’ll give you time to tell them. If you don’t do it within that time frame, I’ll tell them. But, I’ll warn you before I do it.”

You’ll warn me? Are you trying to strike a deal with me? I knew I should have lied.

“I’m doing this for your own good, Lindsay. You’re my best friend and I care about you.” I don’t feel myself hug her back. If you really cared, you’d let it go.

Kelli never brings up the subject again. I forget about this incident and figure she has too. The “your time is up so I’m telling on you” ultimatum disintegrates into an empty threat. I go back to school in September and don’t come home until October ends. I lost a few pounds by eating healthier and my family is happy for me. On the way to the airport, my dad says, “You look great, honey, really, you do. This probably isn’t the best time to bring it up … but you didn’t lose weight by being bulimic, did you?”

Oh my God. “She TOLD you?!”

“Lindsay, don’t be mad. She was really scared to tell.”

I’m not mad at Kelli, I’m furious. “When?”

“Right before you guys left for school. She called and said she had something important to tell us. Your mom and I went to her house. She was sitting in the living room with her parents and crying because she wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing. She didn’t want to lose your friendship.”

I’m thankful when they let me walk through security with sunglasses on. I’m not looking forward to Thanksgiving anymore.

*
*
*


My parents have argued in the garage for years because they don’t think my sister and I can hear them in there. They forget that my bedroom is directly above the garage.

“It’s your fault Lindsay turned bulimic! You always pushed her too hard! It didn’t matter if she was valedictorian or tennis team captain or a concert pianist, she was never good enough for you.” “At least I wasn’t babying her all the time! I just wanted my daughter to grow up strong. It was your coddling that made her cave in like that!”

*
*
*


Even though I’m finished with bulimia, it isn’t finished with me. A common side effect is gastroesophageal reflux, where my gag reflex fires involuntarily and my stomach contents come up. This looks incredibly suspicious to people who know I have a history with bulimia.

I’m looking at Christmas ornaments with my dad and sister a few days later. I can’t decide if this one is a gingerbread man or a really tan starfish when my stomach tightens. This is the worst, because my stomach is empty of anything except acid. I imagine this is what it would be like to iron the inside of my throat with a pair of flaming soccer cleats.

I’m bent over like I’m trying to cough my throat out onto the floor (which I wouldn’t have minded) as the scorching gets worse. I’m pretty sure everyone in the store is staring so I scramble outside. I’m trying to calm down by taking deep breaths but the frozen air ironically makes the burning worse, so I attempt to casually stroll into a nearby restaurant and ask in a horribly raw voice for a glass of water. The girl smiles because she thinks I’m a chain smoker and fills a cup and I thank her while trying to control myself because I’d gladly drink all 32 ounces in one gulp. My throat cools but is still itchy.

My dad and sister are asking what happened and I say I coughed up acid, so we get ice cream to neutralize it. I claw maniacally at a frozen cylinder of Phish Food with a flimsy plastic spork the whole way home, where I finally microwave the block into submission. I’m halfway done when my stomach protests the unexpected influx of food by sending the ice cream back up (at least it doesn’t burn) and I’m running again, this time to the nearest toilet.

Winter break becomes a laborious game of avoiding anything that could make me look like I’m still bulimic. I don’t eat too much because I’ll vomit. I don’t eat too little because I’ll seem anorexic. I’m afraid of soda because burping can trigger refluxes. I snack on Tums between meals. My workouts are light so I won’t lose weight. You’d think even if my parents didn’t know I used to be bulimic, they would still be suspicious.

Kelli and I exchange Christmas gifts one night. I haven’t told her I know she snitched on me, but she probably has figured it out since I’ve barely spoken to her for the past two months. As she turns to leave, she asks, “Are we okay?”

No. “Yeah.” I want to tell her I’ve lost my parents’ trust, that she’s lost mine. That I will never believe anything she says again.

*
*
*


I’m more frustrated than grateful that everyone is too concerned to trust me. I ask my dad why no one believes me when I say I’m not bulimic. He says they do – they’re just making sure I’m okay. So no one believes me.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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This article has 182 comments. Post your own!

oasisgrace said...
Nov. 13, 2010 at 12:55 pm:
great article. and great that you figured out that bulimia isn't for you. if you trust yourself, that seems like the most important thing. keep on writing!
 
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ARW114 said...
Oct. 26, 2010 at 9:08 am:
I want to be straight forward and say I read this for a school assignment. I clicked on a story that didn't look to boring and would be long enough to make my teacher see I wasn't doing the work half way. I hate that I read this for selfish reasons, but I'm glad I did at the same time. By reading this I felt a connection from the feeling of no one believing the words that are bluntly truthful. I felt a connection from being betrayed by some one who used to be trustworthy. I felt a connection thr... (more »)
 
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Dragonscribe said...
Oct. 15, 2010 at 4:32 pm:
is this a true story?
 
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ria -ria said...
Oct. 3, 2010 at 4:54 pm:
This is all too much reminfing me of what i went through.. But it's a great article(:
 
%MRS.%M.I.A.% replied...
Oct. 15, 2010 at 12:44 pm :
TATZ CRAZY I WOULD NOT EVEN JUMP OFF OF A BUILDING IF MY BOY FRIEND TOLD ME TO I WOULD LIVE BY RULES AND MY RULES ONLY NOT NO ONE ELES TATZ Y I BE MY OWN LEADER
 
MangoMadness replied...
Nov. 23, 2010 at 8:23 pm :
Pssh. Don't be so naive. You'll fall in love one day(like I did) and realize(like i did) that it's not about who's the boss. It's not about being together for the sake of the title. Love is pure love, sweet, innocent, unconditional. He didn't tell her to lose weight. They both knew they wanted/needed to , and he suggested the make a competition of it as motivation.
 
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.iloveyou. said...
Sept. 23, 2010 at 2:43 pm:
Many comments I've read have been defending your friend, which I see, but I don't think they understand being on the other side of this. Never feeling like you can trust anyone. Having that feeling that you let everyone down and no one can trust you anymore. I hate that. I've lost all trust between my parents after my "little" struggle with drugs and anoxeria/bulima. I am both but I'm trying to change that but having my family not trust me doesn't help at all. Great article would love to heard m... (more »)
 
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EmmyKate said...
Sept. 13, 2010 at 8:18 pm:
Interesting story--it's cool to see what bulimia is like from a person who actually experienced it. 
 
MissTinkerBell replied...
Oct. 15, 2010 at 12:41 pm :
It's kinda of scray also though...to know that ppl are dying from that disorder.
 
8675309jenny replied...
Dec. 8, 2010 at 10:21 pm :
I know... it's so sad.
 
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Sammysammysammyg said...
Sept. 11, 2010 at 10:14 am:
This is such a great story!  I am so glad that you are finally better and feel really bad at the same time. 
 
MissTinkerBell replied...
Oct. 15, 2010 at 12:42 pm :
I'm really glad that you are better and I wish you the best of luck in life.
 
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kinda me said...
Sept. 1, 2010 at 6:02 pm:
I understand both sides....they both are true. Have you done any research on bulimia? It's scary.
 
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brown.sugar said...
Sept. 1, 2010 at 4:30 pm:
this is very well written. thanxs for sharing. somehow me and you are alike but not quite. my problem was that i was soooooooo skinny. i ate ALOT but i never gained a pound. i didnt like going to parties and stuff because people would say something kind of rude and asked me if i ate. when i did go to parties i didnt eat like i usually did at home becuse i didnt want people to think that my parents were starving me and if i ate to little they probaly think something else. all my life i been ... (more »)
 
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Gekkonidae said...
Sept. 1, 2010 at 4:09 pm:
That was an incredible story. It was so well-written that at one point I was actually thinking that I was you. Please try to forgive your friend and your parents, they're just trying to protect you in the best way they can. I hope things start looking up soon!
 
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amybug said...
Sept. 1, 2010 at 4:09 pm:
Wow this is really great, I could picture everything you were saying, and I'm so sorry. I don't understand why people are asking why you were mad at your friend. I completly get it, sure she was trying to help. But, you confided in her and she went and told on you anyway. THat makes you angry, and I can see why. Good luck.
 
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Writer24 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Sept. 1, 2010 at 1:51 am:
This article was so wonderfully personal it had me crying at one point. It's so detailed and vivid I could almost imagine being you.
 
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_Bell_ said...
Aug. 19, 2010 at 3:51 pm:
i say you shouldnt be mad at people for trying to care about you. all they want is your saftey and for you to be healthy. this  situation is a dificult one everyone feels presured with having the right body most people want the perfet body because like that they think the guy they like will like them more and be happy of haveing a gurl who looks hot.but its one think to be a healthy type of hot girl and another to be a sick skinny girl. it is the most fast way i know of of loosing weight by... (more »)
 
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emmacxoxo said...
Aug. 10, 2010 at 12:18 am:
i felt the exact same way with my sis, and actually had a similar situation with my friend...its so hardd, i had anorexia not bullimia tho...both r terrible
 
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Coop123 said...
Aug. 1, 2010 at 8:20 am:
Sad. I'll say that. And your frend was hust trying to help. But its okay.
 
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