Professor Petas Bonaparte
20 December 2012
As the May graduation ceremony finished, all the high school graduates threw their
black and gold caps in the air and joined in cheering with the friends and family still
in their audience seats. Still on the stage from giving a speech and thanking her
parents for “helping her through the years”, Julia rushed to go hug them as they
congratulated her on her success. After, there came the countless pictures with her
siblings and friends outside in the fresh spring air, through it all, Julia kept smiling
her wide, full smile. How did it come to this? This young woman on the path to study
nutrition and medical school is very different from a confused, diet pill abusive
young girl in her teens. What she didn’t realize was that going through all she did
made her a stronger, healthier and a more confident person.
7 am and I am startled by her again as she rustles in her large bed, her
mother wakes her up. As drags herself off the bed, she looks to the nightstand and
she sees me laying there. Her eyes bore into me as she gives me a wanting glance, it
startles me as it does every morning. “I’ll see how the day goes, before I take you”
she mutters to no one in particular. As she gets up to get dressed, she steps on an
empty diet pill bottle that rolled out from under her bed, just one of many she has
gone through over the past few months, she catches herself as she almost slips. She
goes to her closet and she gets dressed in her “big” clothes: lose red t-shirt she got
from camp a few years ago and her oversized grey sweatpants, because she doesn’t
want to feel fat.
I stay there on the delicately carved light brown and gold nightstand all day,
as the sun is shining its last few rays of light, she finally comes back from the dinner
she barely ate and lays on her bed. Hours past, she runs to the bathroom in the dark,
she turns the light switch on and shoves her small and already slender fingers in her
mouth. I have heard the piercing gaging sound too many times before. As the toilet
flushes, she rinses her hands and falls back to bed.
This is what I witness almost every day. Why can’t someone put a stop to this
senseless thing? I can’t, I’m just a diet pill in a small, white plastic container. If
I could hide myself so she wouldn’t keep taking me, I would. But then she would find
someone to buy her another bottle, that one could hurt her worse. So maybe she
will have to deal with the lesser of two evils.
Few days later, she is going out with some friends. She is already late,
because she can’t find something to wear. Her father yells from the living room
“don’t wear those tight jeans again”. She rolls her eyes as she keeps looking in the
mirror, trying on jeans after jeans. “I haven’t eaten in days! Why am I still not skinny
enough?” she whispers, and with frustration she lingers at her outline on the glass
mirror that is propped against one of her room’s purple walls. As I look at her
already boney figure, I ask myself questions too, although they are very different.
Who told her that she was fat? Is she blind to what is happening?
She decides to stay home after all, propping her head up with her arms, she
lies on the big tan couch, and her browns eyes are glued to the TV. Ad after ad pops
up touting weight loss program after program. Commercials and TV shows with
“successful and beautiful” but fake woman bombard her mind with images and the
lie that thin = beauty. Back in her room she flips through the latest woman’s
magazine, as she looks at the models on the pages, she gets saddened as she thinks
she is still not thin enough. She finally falls asleep around 12am. Again I am woken
up by rustling, this time she rushes to the...