'Please Katy. Just try and eat a little more.'
Here we go again. Nag, nag, nag.
'Sorry Mum, but this egg tastes off. I'll have some toast though, but
please don't stick butter on it. It makes me feel sick.'
Oh oh! She's still putting the butter on. It's as if my opinion isn't
worth listening to. Well, I'll just have to scrape it off won't I?
'Don't look like that Mum. I'm eating it aren't I? And I asked you not to
put butter on it, so you shouldn't be surprised I scraped it off. Don't
you want me to eat?'
'But I promised Doctor Grey I'd make sure you had at least 2,000 calories a
day. How am I supposed to do that if you eat only dry toast? And look!
You've left most of it anyway.'
'Oh don't fuss!'
'Don't fuss? You promised us you'd make the effort to put on weight.
Don't you realise how worried we all are?'
'Well I didn't ask you to worry did I? Why don't you all just leave me
alone!'
'Katy! Please stay here. Don't run off to your room again .'
________ Well that got me out of there quite nicely. Now, where's my notebook? . Okay. So far today I've eaten half a slice of toast (it was thick bread so that will be 55 calories) and it had some butter on it (another 50 calories), and I've had two cups of coffee. I'm sure Mum put full fat milk in the coffees. Doesn't she realise I can taste the difference? That'll be another 120 calories. So that's 225 calories so far today. I've got another 275 for the rest of the day. Not bad. Especially if I do my aerobics video and run twice round the park. Hah! I'm still on course. I will be tiny and I will be happy! . As long as they leave me alone .
________
'Katy! Are you getting ready? You've got to see Dr Patel at 10 o'clock.' 'Yeah. I'm getting ready. Just got to do my hair.' 'I hope you haven't put a thick jumper on. It's 80 degrees out there.' Here we go again. Moan moan, nag, nag. 'Look. If I get changed again we'll be late.' 'Okay. Just get down here then.'
________
Dr Patel is my psychiatrist. He spends ages asking me the same old questions: am I happy; have I tried going back to school yet; how do I get on with my mum and dad and my sister; do I like going out with my friends; have I got a boyfriend. To which I always answer: yes; no; okay; no; and NO. It's not true of course. I have got a boyfriend, but I'm not telling him that. Dirty old man! Last time I told him I had a boyfriend, he asked me if we had sex. Well of course I said no! I'm fourteen for God's sake! If I told Patel the truth he'd tell Mum. They think I don't understand about Anorexia. Well I think I know a darn sight more about it than they do! I'm the one who's got it after all. They think they're clever. Well so am I! I've read all the books about it. I know psychiatrists aren't sure how to treat it ... I did like the bits that said that anorexics are usually highly intelligent though ... So why do they still think they can fool me! Most of the books talk about girls who don't want to grow up and are scared of developing into 'sexual beings' as they call it. Well I've got news for them! Me and Marcus have been shagging since I was twelve! It's better now though. Since my periods stopped I don't have to worry about getting pregnant. An added bonus of Anorexia, you could say! Marcus does worry about me though . Says I'm getting too skinny. Bloody typical! It was him ogling that Suzi Marshall, with her long, skinny legs, that made me go on a diet in the first place . Well . It was one of the reasons anyhow...
________
Well. That's another boring visit over. Complete waste of time as usual. I told Patel I was eating more. He believed me. I answered my usual yes, no, okay, no, and NO, and then he said, 'See you same time next week'. He didn't even ask to talk to Mum. She was well annoyed! . Oh, oh! Mum's heading for that café. Here she comes with the excuse. 'Do you know? My feet are killing me! Let's go in here and have a coffee.' How unsubtle can you get? 'Okay. Just a coffee then. I'll have it black. Could do with a boost after seeing Patel.' 'What about a doughnut? Or a piece of chocolate fudge cake? It used to be your favourite?' NO! 'Okay. Sorry I asked.' Good. Mum's not going to nag me. Well not yet anyway. Oh. Here we go! 'Mum! You know I said black! I'm not drinking that milky thing! Now I'm left without a drink. Is that what you want? Me to dehydrate?' 'Katy please. We just can't go on like this anymore!' Better take it easy here or I might get sent back to the hospital. 'Look Mum. Don't cry. I will eat more. You can watch me at dinnertime. But what's the point of filling me up with creamy milk and chocolate cakes? That's no good for me! Dr Grey said I had to eat proper meals, didn't she?' 'Okay Katy. But this is your last chance. If you don't eat a good dinner tonight, including the potatoes, I'll ask if you can go back to the hospital. I mean it!' 'Deal! As long as it's boiled potatoes. You know that mashed and roasted make me sick.' (And she'd add loads of butter to the mash).
________
Now you may be wondering why I'm acting this way. You're bound to take Mum's side. People always do. That's okay. It's hard to explain to people, and when I try, no one seems to understand. But I'll give it a go anyway. I said I started dieting because Marcus ogled a skinny girl. Well that's not strictly true. I would have dieted anyway. For as long as I can remember, people have said I'm 'big-boned'. That I'm 'strong' and 'sturdy'. I've been called 'mature', 'capable', and 'sensible', and everyone expects I will do well at school and get a good career. They say I will always be able to look after myself and be independent. No one has ever thought I needed taking care of and nurturing. They expect me to do it all by myself. Other girls are described as 'flighty' or 'giggly'. They say Suzi Marshall is 'delicate'. She fainted once in the playground. It was like a 'swoon' from one of those old-fashioned films. Everyone rushed over to her and fanned her and brought her glasses of water. I fainted once from sunstroke. I fell so heavily I bruised my knees and cut my elbows. But my friends all laughed at me. They dragged me over into the shade and left me there. Girls like Suzi are like fragile little birds, or tiny, gauzed- winged butterflies. When they giggle it's like a delicate tinkle that people find irresistible. When I laugh it's like a hippo roaring in anger! Well I want to be tiny and fragile-looking. I want people to fret over me when I'm ill and cosset me gently back to health. I want to break out of this ugly, hefty chrysalis and emerge as a beautiful, gauzed-winged butterfly! When I'm dainty and fragile-looking, people will call me pretty and boys will offer to carry my heavy schoolbags. All these things happen to pretty, dainty, fragile-looking girls. They never happen to fat, stumpy caterpillars. They've always said I have 'heavy bones'. I don't know whether this is true or not, but if I lose enough fat it will make up for it anyway. They say that too much dieting makes you lose muscle. Well good! I'll look more delicate then won't I? All these charts give you the 'ideal weight for your height'. But they're stupid! I'm much thinner than that already and I still look sturdy ... Well I think I do anyhow. So now you see my plan. I'm transforming myself from a cumbersome, ugly caterpillar into a beautiful, delicate butterfly.
________
Please don't tell Mum what I said will you? She doesn't understand and if she finds out she'll send me straight back to hospital. They make me eat there and they watch me all the time to make sure I don't throw up or take laxatives. Going back there would set my plans back by months. And I'd only start on them again as soon as I got out anyway. So there's no point is there? Just a few more weeks and the transformation will have taken place. I will shed this ugly, hefty chrysalis and out will emerge a beautiful, delicate butterfly. I know I'm probably putting my life at risk. Enough people have told me so. But it's worth it. And if I don't survive, at least when they bury me my coffin will be light. Everyone will feel sorry for me and wish they had looked after me better when I was alive and then they will mourn the fragile little thing that has flown out of their lives forever.
________
________ Well that got me out of there quite nicely. Now, where's my notebook? . Okay. So far today I've eaten half a slice of toast (it was thick bread so that will be 55 calories) and it had some butter on it (another 50 calories), and I've had two cups of coffee. I'm sure Mum put full fat milk in the coffees. Doesn't she realise I can taste the difference? That'll be another 120 calories. So that's 225 calories so far today. I've got another 275 for the rest of the day. Not bad. Especially if I do my aerobics video and run twice round the park. Hah! I'm still on course. I will be tiny and I will be happy! . As long as they leave me alone .
________
'Katy! Are you getting ready? You've got to see Dr Patel at 10 o'clock.' 'Yeah. I'm getting ready. Just got to do my hair.' 'I hope you haven't put a thick jumper on. It's 80 degrees out there.' Here we go again. Moan moan, nag, nag. 'Look. If I get changed again we'll be late.' 'Okay. Just get down here then.'
________
Dr Patel is my psychiatrist. He spends ages asking me the same old questions: am I happy; have I tried going back to school yet; how do I get on with my mum and dad and my sister; do I like going out with my friends; have I got a boyfriend. To which I always answer: yes; no; okay; no; and NO. It's not true of course. I have got a boyfriend, but I'm not telling him that. Dirty old man! Last time I told him I had a boyfriend, he asked me if we had sex. Well of course I said no! I'm fourteen for God's sake! If I told Patel the truth he'd tell Mum. They think I don't understand about Anorexia. Well I think I know a darn sight more about it than they do! I'm the one who's got it after all. They think they're clever. Well so am I! I've read all the books about it. I know psychiatrists aren't sure how to treat it ... I did like the bits that said that anorexics are usually highly intelligent though ... So why do they still think they can fool me! Most of the books talk about girls who don't want to grow up and are scared of developing into 'sexual beings' as they call it. Well I've got news for them! Me and Marcus have been shagging since I was twelve! It's better now though. Since my periods stopped I don't have to worry about getting pregnant. An added bonus of Anorexia, you could say! Marcus does worry about me though . Says I'm getting too skinny. Bloody typical! It was him ogling that Suzi Marshall, with her long, skinny legs, that made me go on a diet in the first place . Well . It was one of the reasons anyhow...
________
Well. That's another boring visit over. Complete waste of time as usual. I told Patel I was eating more. He believed me. I answered my usual yes, no, okay, no, and NO, and then he said, 'See you same time next week'. He didn't even ask to talk to Mum. She was well annoyed! . Oh, oh! Mum's heading for that café. Here she comes with the excuse. 'Do you know? My feet are killing me! Let's go in here and have a coffee.' How unsubtle can you get? 'Okay. Just a coffee then. I'll have it black. Could do with a boost after seeing Patel.' 'What about a doughnut? Or a piece of chocolate fudge cake? It used to be your favourite?' NO! 'Okay. Sorry I asked.' Good. Mum's not going to nag me. Well not yet anyway. Oh. Here we go! 'Mum! You know I said black! I'm not drinking that milky thing! Now I'm left without a drink. Is that what you want? Me to dehydrate?' 'Katy please. We just can't go on like this anymore!' Better take it easy here or I might get sent back to the hospital. 'Look Mum. Don't cry. I will eat more. You can watch me at dinnertime. But what's the point of filling me up with creamy milk and chocolate cakes? That's no good for me! Dr Grey said I had to eat proper meals, didn't she?' 'Okay Katy. But this is your last chance. If you don't eat a good dinner tonight, including the potatoes, I'll ask if you can go back to the hospital. I mean it!' 'Deal! As long as it's boiled potatoes. You know that mashed and roasted make me sick.' (And she'd add loads of butter to the mash).
________
Now you may be wondering why I'm acting this way. You're bound to take Mum's side. People always do. That's okay. It's hard to explain to people, and when I try, no one seems to understand. But I'll give it a go anyway. I said I started dieting because Marcus ogled a skinny girl. Well that's not strictly true. I would have dieted anyway. For as long as I can remember, people have said I'm 'big-boned'. That I'm 'strong' and 'sturdy'. I've been called 'mature', 'capable', and 'sensible', and everyone expects I will do well at school and get a good career. They say I will always be able to look after myself and be independent. No one has ever thought I needed taking care of and nurturing. They expect me to do it all by myself. Other girls are described as 'flighty' or 'giggly'. They say Suzi Marshall is 'delicate'. She fainted once in the playground. It was like a 'swoon' from one of those old-fashioned films. Everyone rushed over to her and fanned her and brought her glasses of water. I fainted once from sunstroke. I fell so heavily I bruised my knees and cut my elbows. But my friends all laughed at me. They dragged me over into the shade and left me there. Girls like Suzi are like fragile little birds, or tiny, gauzed- winged butterflies. When they giggle it's like a delicate tinkle that people find irresistible. When I laugh it's like a hippo roaring in anger! Well I want to be tiny and fragile-looking. I want people to fret over me when I'm ill and cosset me gently back to health. I want to break out of this ugly, hefty chrysalis and emerge as a beautiful, gauzed-winged butterfly! When I'm dainty and fragile-looking, people will call me pretty and boys will offer to carry my heavy schoolbags. All these things happen to pretty, dainty, fragile-looking girls. They never happen to fat, stumpy caterpillars. They've always said I have 'heavy bones'. I don't know whether this is true or not, but if I lose enough fat it will make up for it anyway. They say that too much dieting makes you lose muscle. Well good! I'll look more delicate then won't I? All these charts give you the 'ideal weight for your height'. But they're stupid! I'm much thinner than that already and I still look sturdy ... Well I think I do anyhow. So now you see my plan. I'm transforming myself from a cumbersome, ugly caterpillar into a beautiful, delicate butterfly.
________
Please don't tell Mum what I said will you? She doesn't understand and if she finds out she'll send me straight back to hospital. They make me eat there and they watch me all the time to make sure I don't throw up or take laxatives. Going back there would set my plans back by months. And I'd only start on them again as soon as I got out anyway. So there's no point is there? Just a few more weeks and the transformation will have taken place. I will shed this ugly, hefty chrysalis and out will emerge a beautiful, delicate butterfly. I know I'm probably putting my life at risk. Enough people have told me so. But it's worth it. And if I don't survive, at least when they bury me my coffin will be light. Everyone will feel sorry for me and wish they had looked after me better when I was alive and then they will mourn the fragile little thing that has flown out of their lives forever.
________