Darcy can't pinpoint when it all started. There are multiple origins.
Eating dinner with her parents; being told to finish her plate or she'd get smacked by her father and her mother would be sad. Food was on her plate and she should be thankful for it, her father yelled, pointing his fork at her. Finish it or you don't get to leave the table.
Use table manners or be put outside and eat like an animal.
Her mother never shut up about baby weight that remained after Darcy was born, as if carrying her for nine months hadn't been enough already. She didn't outright blame Darcy, but neither did she deny her any responsibility. Darcy's mom would grumble in changing rooms at the mall, Darcy sitting on her floor watching her mother sulking over her once flat, now and forever soft stomach.
Her mother said no to some foods and Darcy's father told her she was being stupid.
Darcy could blame magazines or the other girls at school, but that didn't seem fair somehow. She could eat with friends and sometimes feel guilty, but the voices didn't start until she was in college.
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Darcy flung herself into her education. She was left to her own devices, so her eating patterns were scattered and she often ran on only a couple hours' sleep a day.
With everything going so well, the sudden pangs of anxiety were all the more overwhelming, clutching at her insides and making her stay indoors with the covers up to her chin for hours. The tears would dry and Darcy would pick up where she'd left off.
At least, it worked that way for a while.
Her roommate had a party with beer and boys. Lots of her girlfriends flooded in with giggles and sparkles. Darcy was suddenly aware of her scruffy clothes, her scuffed shoes, the fact that her hair never did anything she wanted it to, no matter what.
They all just seemed slinkier and brighter than her.
The next day when everyone had left, Darcy showered, her whole body aching. She towelled off and saw someone new in the mirror when she wiped away the condensation.
Do you think those people actually like you?
Darcy stared at the girl that looked back at her. They just feel sorry for you.
Jesus, is that me? Of course. What did you fucking expect?
It became not about losing weight, but instead just not eating. It wasn't that difficult.
With college Darcy was able to kill time chugging coffee and bumming cigarettes in between studying and classes. Each day just became a waiting game. Waiting off the time until she could return to her bed, even if it was just to lie there and fret.
She couldn't handle more than just one meal a day without completing losing it. She knew it wasn't safe, especially after she passed out a couple times at parties, really just falling over at the most inconvenient times. Despite working so hard on her body, it was still capable of embarrassment.
She had to run away when her roommate called her parents about her weight. The 'episodes', the word her mother used to describe her fainting, was 'alarming'.
Darcy returned to New York, her home, to be taken to hospital, hysterical and screaming about her finals.
She didn't have time for this.
What a supreme fuck-up you are.Darcy had a tube up her nose for sometime, missing out on six college credits.
So she ran away to New Mexico to make it up.