SPEAK
STARVING FOR PERFECTION
Embracing my flaws gave me the strength to be myself by Carissa Pedigo
My library time in sixth grade was not spent like that of most of the girls in my class. I didn't bother duking it out for the latest Baby-sitter's Club and Goosebumps novels. Instead, I dashed straight to the magazine rack in the back to flip through issues of Seventeen Magazine. My mother didn't think a magazine named after its target audience was appropriate for me at 12, so the school library was the only way I could get my hands on a copy. It was the highlight of my week. Although most of the content didn't particularly pertain to me (I wasn't into make-up or boys yet), I was mesmerized by the glossy images. I would stare down at a flawless model in a photograph and think,"She must have everything she wants." I wanted to be this perfect girl.
In middle school I entered an awkward stage. This was not something Seventeen prepared me for.I thought my early teens would be a time of belly shirts and group dates like I had read about.The pudge around my middle deterred me from wearing the Britney Spears-inspired halter-tops that scandalously rose above the navel,and my extreme shyness wasn't necessarily attracting the boys in droves.I was constantly criticizing and comparing myself to other girls.I felt too fat,too tall,too boring.No one made comments to fuel these thoughts.It was like they were trapped in my mind,playing over and over,no matter how many times I heard how lucky I was to be tall,smart or have thick hair.None of that was good enough.I decided that the only way I could ever be satisfied with my appearance was to look like the girls I had worshipped in Seventeen Then I would be happy and have everything.
The first thing that had to go was any extra weight. To better my physique, I forced myself to try out for volleyball and soccer, although I had never had much interest in sports. Surprisingly I made the teams, but soon realized the other girls were a lot faster, thinner and looked better in their uniforms. To compete with the other girls, I tried several fad diets like eating only grapefruit or cutting out all my carbohydrates. I also mixed in a cocktail of diet pills to boost my energy. The pills worked for about a month, and I dropped about 10 pounds. But when my
body built up a tolerance to their effects, I had to take more and more just to keep going. My habit ended up costing more than $100 a month to maintain. This continued during high school until I became not only exhausted, but too broke to afford the pricey supplements. I eventually ditched the diets and pills and relied on sports to stay in shape.
The Freshman 15 was my biggest fear when starting college. Gaining any extra weight would mean I was a failure, and obviously had no self-control. After late night pizza binges and cafeteria food, however, change was inevitable. My jeans became tighter, and my once trendy wardrobe gave way to sweat pants and oversized hoodies. When swimsuit season arrived, my extra weight had no place to hide. I still coveted the bodies of the super-skinny models and looked at the emaciated cover shots of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan for inspiration. While the headlines of rumored eating disorders criticized their abnormally low weight, I enjoyed it.
My obsession with my weight began to take over my life. I rarely ate, and what I did eat didn't stay down for long. I could not go out to eat without visiting the bathroom several times to eliminate the extreme feeling of guilt for letting myself give into food. I could not go through the day without weighing myself after every glass of water or treadmill run. I quickly lost the Freshman 15, but my family became concerned and my friends distant. I didn't want to go home or eat around other people because I was afraid they might find out my secret. It became harder to hide. I never ate
a meal without spending at least 15 minutes in the bathroom afterward, and even gum and mints didn't disguise the smell.
A few friends began to notice my strange behavior, and
the scale reveal that I was finally succeeding. I was almost skinny.
made comments that I looked too thin. I dismissed their concern, and became convinced that they were lying out of jealousy that I was finally thinner than them. Looking attractive to other people didn't matter anymore. I felt an emptiness inside that could only be filled by the euphoria of watching
I realize now that I was more than skinny. I was sick. My weight kept dropping, but I was never completely satisfied with the way I looked. I kept thinking, "I'm almost perfect. I'll be happy
ABUSING MY BODY AND MY SELF-ESTEEM WAS NOT JUST AFFECTING ME; IT WAS HURTING THE PEOPLE WHOSE OPINIONS SHOULD HAVE MEANT THE MOST.
after five more pounds." Happy never came.
I checked the scale at least 50 times a day, and in about three months nearly 30 pounds had dissolved off my 5 foot 9 frame, which stuck to an
unhealthy-looking 120 pounds.
My hair began to fall out, my teeth began to ache and my throat burned, but somehow I felt numb to it all. I didn't think about how I was hurting myself, or how it was hurting the people who cared about me. I constantly put down my looks and picked apart my body in front of my
friends. My roommate and best friend finally had enough of it and broke down crying.She said,"Why are you doing this to yourself? You are just fine,Carissa. You are perfect."For the first time I felt ashamed for being so critical of myself.Abusing my body and my self-esteem was not just affecting me; it was hurting the people whose opinions should have meant the most.I didn't have to be skinny to be any happier.I just needed to trust that people loved me for being myself.
it has been two years since I have struggled with my eating disorder. Finding the strength to stop was not easy. I opened up to my friends and family about my obsessions with food and weight. They tried their best to understand, and helped me ditch the scales and diets by encouraging me to get back into healthier activities like sports to stay thin. I also learned to listen when they told me there was nothing wrong with the way I
ILLUSTRATION/CATHERINE COQUILLETTE looked and that there is no such thing as perfection.
I was lucky that I could beat this with the help of friends and family alone, but that isn't always the case. According to Anorexia Nervosa and Related Eating Disorders, Inc., 4 percent of college-aged women suffer from bulimia nervosa, while about 1 percent of female adolescents are suffering from anorexia. Without treatment, up to 20 percent of people with serious eating disorders die. With treatment, it is less than 2 to 3 percent.
I can still pick out all the imperfections on my body, but I've accepted that changing them is an impossible goal. Finding confidence and self-worth within myself came a lot easier once I stopped wanting to be someone else. Now whenever I begin to feel down on myself I ask myself,"Who do I need to be perfect for?" Everyone who matters to me loves me just the way I am, imperfections and all.
19> JAYPLAY 10.19.2006