By John Tan
Dear diary,
I did something.
Don’t worry it’s not a crime. I didn’t do anything bad per se. No one was injured except for me. I know I don’t usually do stuff like this to myself but I couldn’t help it especially after hearing Mother’s remark. “Mercy, you’re fat, you need to lose weight.” How could I just brush it off? She is my mother and she has always been there for me through thick and thin. She is my rock, my home, and my world. She always knows what is best for me as the saying goes Mama knows best!
So, surely what she said purely came out of concern right? I mean yes she has always made remarks like that about my weight but all she wants for me is to be perfect. To look good and I didn’t see any harm in that.
Which is why I did what I did.
A few months back, I was diagnosed with Chronicle Gastric and Purging Bulimia. I was admitted to a hospital for seven days because of it and the experience was torture. How it all led to that? Well, there were a lot of contributing factors but Mother’s remark about my weight was the last factor that pushed me off the edge. I decided that was the last straw and made my first mistake in this whole ordeal.
I went out to the local pharmacy to buy laxatives.
At that moment, I wasn’t thinking straight. I gave in to the voices in my head. I officially lost the battle. If only the people involved were kinder, it would have been easier for me and none of this would have happened.
Growing up, I was a very shy girl and was often the target of bullying. I was teased a lot for my curly hair, my looks, the color of my skin and my weight. As a result, this programmed me to be very conscious about my appearance and I linked it to my worth (still do). “The skinnier, the better.” “The lower the number on the scale, the more beautiful I will be”
This mindset grew up with me and it got worse during my internship last summer. During that period, I became more aware of the ingredients, the calories, and the quantity of food I was consuming. If I ate anything like a cookie or a cake, it would have felt like I committed a crime. I also paid more attention to the size of my thighs. This resulted in hating my reflection in the mirror as I was disgusted with my own body.
Despite that, I didn’t act on the insecurity until later on. I just kept my head high and focused on my work. I pushed aside every thought that could provoke me to harm my body every day. I did just that for five months and let me tell you it wasn’t an easy thing to do. Silencing the voices every day was not an easy task and things were manageable until the teasing in the office started.
One day during lunch hour, I found a letter underneath my working desk.
It was among my crumpled pile of papers but I still managed to distinguish it. At first, I was weirded out by its presence because I rarely get letters. I am an intern under the designing department and my job only revolves around the art of designing. Besides that, I was also weirded out by the way it was presented. Anyone in their right mind would know that a letter should always be in an envelope if it is supposed to reach a company. So, this sender really had the audacity to present it without an envelope. How professional.
Anyways, I walked towards my desk to pick the letter up and before I could even open to read it, my co-worker grabbed it from me and read it to the whole office.
The letter went on to praise everyone in the office except for me, mocking my looks and my weight. The most prominent line in the letter was “Mercy is the fattest and ugliest bitch.” Everyone immediately burst into laughter after it was read out and I remember just standing there feeling embarrassed and insulted. However, I was too stunned to stand up for myself or to even do anything. My only respond and defending mechanism was to cry.
The laughter continued for a good amount of time and it stopped when our boss came in the room. The noise was disrupting his conversation with a client. So, he told us to keep it down and after that, he returned back into his office. The focus then shifted back to me but for the first time, I didn’t bother. I just wanted to leave the office but in my state, I settled down in my desk returning to my work.
Obviously, I couldn’t focus and I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face. For the first time, it was too much to bear and the crying continued all the way home. I couldn’t control it. Guess, I am not that “strong, independent girl” I always aspire to be.
Once I got home, I immediately rushed into my bathroom and it was war in my head. The voices were louder than ever before but before I could even be compelled by it. I heard mother calling me for dinner. So, I collected myself, all that’s left and got ready for dinner.
During dinner, Mother, as usual, was sweet and asked how my day went. I wanted to fill her in on what happened but I stopped myself because I couldn’t bear to see her upset and thought it will only get worse if I opened up. So, I lied and said I got a compliment from my boss for work. While doing this, I reached for the chicken on the table and that’s when Mother said: “Mercy, you’re fat, you need to lose weight.”
Immediately I lost my appetite but being the good girl I was raised to be, I didn’t leave the dining table and forced myself to finish the meal. That moment is when I finally surrender to the voices because even my own mother confirm I am fat. After dinner, I rushed to the local pharmacy and bought laxatives.
I was shaking while I was bringing it to the counter because I never thought I would ever reach this state. I then quickly brought it up to my room and took one.
This then became my everyday routine and eventually, it became my addiction. I would consume a pill of laxatives after every meal to get rid of the food from my body. As a result, my body wasn’t receiving any nutrients.
However, that wasn’t the only harm I was inflicting upon myself, I also began depriving myself of food by limiting my food choices and intakes, a bit more every day. Yet, I still wasn’t satisfied with the results and this prompted me to work out intensively as I would hit the gym five times a week and on the weekends, I would jog for an hour and a half.
I did this for seven months until my body reached its limit.
That night like other nights, I spent my time in the toilet going through the torture I had inflicted upon myself but unlike the other nights, I was so slowly drifting away as my whole body was so weak. I felt all my organs failing me at the same time. I couldn’t stand it anymore so for once in my life, I reached out for my help and shouted for my mother. After that, all I could remember was blurry seeing her running towards my soon to be unconscious body.
The next morning, I found myself lying on a hospital bed and a piece of horrible music was playing in the background. Mother was outside the room talking to the doctor. I couldn’t eavesdrop their conversation but I could tell mother was worried sick.
Both of them then came in the room and the doctor asked how I was feeling and told me the damage that was done wasn’t minor, leading him to ask what was the cause of this. How did it all happen?
With tears and regrets, I confessed what I did.
Looking back at it now, I can say things are slightly better. Currently, I am seeking help for my condition as I started attending counseling sessions at a centre near my house.
The journey to recovery obviously isn’t a walk in the park because every now and then I still catch myself finding reasons to call myself fat even though I only weight about 45 kg. Once in a while, I am also tempted to fall back to the vicious cycle.
Well, maybe someday I will fully recover from this and by then I will learn to appreciate, love, and respect my body and myself.
Then I will understand that the number on the scale or that extra skin on my thigh don’t define my worth.
Then maybe it will be the greatest love story ever told.
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