My Story
This was me then.
I thought I should tell you a bit about how this started.
That is how I used to look, and wish I could now.
I started out as a musical theater singer that weighed a good 122 pounds. I had also built up a rather impressive resume of performances that included Greese, Guys and Dolls, and Universal Studio’s Rocky Horror Picture Show. At that point in my life, in June of 2010, I auditioned of a musical called Aida with a theater group that specialized in gathering opportunities for upcoming performers and promoting diverse casts. I got the part of one of the main characters, Amneris. I learned the music quickly, got my costume fitted immediately, and signed up for some dance courses to prepare for a particular song that involved some high kicks and a few spins. I felt wonderful and loved every moment of it… at first.
Alas, the first day I arrived, I was met with some less-than-satisfactory faces. I was the only white girl in the cast and the other girls did not like it one bit. You see, this is a musical about Egyptian slaves that turn to their enslaved country’s princess, Aida, for support. I played the villain; Amneris is an oppressive, bitchy, spoiled princess engaged to the love interest of the story. She frequently supported their forced imprisonment and working them to death. So, the casting director figured a little white girl was perfect for the part.
I tried my best to make the other girls like me. I was nice to everyone, offered help to the others in moments of difficulty, and always came in with a smile on my face and a humble attitude. Despite my efforts, the other girls would not give me a chance. I was greeted every day with comments like: “*insert name* was so much better than you at the audition,” “racist bitch, taking parts away from deserving black women,” and “if only your character was the one getting enslaved, maybe they could do a lynch on you.” I felt horrible each day and the comments slowly got to me more and more.
It wasn’t just that, though. I was never invited to a single cast-driven get together or overnight practicing session. Everyone cut me off whenever I spoke, and I even had people try to trip me or cut me off in ways that prevented me from making my cues. Every issue that came up— stolen props, misplaced set pieces, etc— was always blamed on me, even though I had nothing to do with them. I felt completely horrible each day.
Why didn’t I quit, might you ask. It’s simple, I desperately needed the money. My bank account was in the negative numbers and my unemployed mother was paying for my apartment. I had no choice but to stay.
Eventually the comments and teasing got worse and worse as the week before showtime approached and we all became extremely stressed. People began yelling at me constantly, and one girl said something that truly got to me: “You are kinda fat for a white girl. Aren’t people like you supposed to be skinnier. After all, your character is skinny.” After she said that, my emotionless look immediately faded to tears. My eyes began to water and my lip began to tremble as all the girls in the dressing room stared at me in my underwear. Everyone could tell that was my weak point, my weight, so they attacked it the rest of the week.
It was the worst week, and the worst show, of my life. The performance was fine, but my mental strength was destroyed.
After the show was completely over, I took my check and decided I needed some time alone. I decided to take a short trip to a beach not far from my apartment, got a shitty hotel room near the water, and spent two days by myself. This was an AWFUL idea. All I did was think about everything that had been said to me; though I worked hard, it didn’t matter because of the way I looked. I saw myself as too pale and too fat to be worth anyone’s time.
While I contemplated this idea, I kept ordering food: Chinese, pizza, pasta, Burger King. I ate out for four meals per day both days. When I came home, I was 5 pounds heavier and 10 time sadder. But, the food made me feel better, for the moment, so I kept on eating.
Within one year I had gained 75 pounds, and could no longer be in musical theater because the new look I had did not meld well with the resume I had built up. I knew I needed to lose it, so I decided to force myself. I swallowed 6 laxatives each day, worked out like a crazy person, and starved myself relentlessly. I was always hungry and sitting in the bathroom. But, the more weight I lost, the lonelier I felt. Food became the only thing I felt I could control, and it soon became an obsession. I thought about food all day long; I even had dreams about it.
I watched the Food Network all day and got a part-time night job at a local restaurant. There, I watched all the food I wasn’t allowing myself to eat pass before my eyes over and over again. After 3 months into my “diet” I had lost 40 pounds and brought myself down to 160. I started to feel a little bit better, so I decided to let myself eat a little something.
I went to a Checkers and bought 6 orders of large fries covered in cheese and bacon. I inhaled them within minutes. It felt like the first breath you take after being stuck underwater for a long time— wonderful.
After that night, I felt like I needed to eat all the time; it was the only thing that made me feel better. I ate between 5-7 meals per day that all consisted of greasy junk food and rich sweets. Soon after I hit this deeper low, I began to develop phobias pertaining to heights and drowning. I numbed those fears, along with my insecurities and depression, with a never ending conveyer belt of food. Sometimes I would throw it up, and sometimes I would try to laxative it out. But, after a while I realized none of that helped.
But, my ultimate low came in June of 2011. Weighing a whopping 210 pounds, I was driving to an open mic night event downtown where I was working as a volunteer. The woman in charge of the event called me and informed me that the caterers had arrived and she wanted me to direct them where to go. I was already five minutes late, had just eaten before I felt home, had been informed there were people waiting on me, and told there was going to be free food at the event. Despite that, I pulled off the highway into a McDonalds for no reason. I ordered a large chicken tenders meal, sat in my parked car, and shoved it into my face like my life depended upon it. The thing was, I could not figure out why. I felt fine. I was already full. I was not scared. I was not stressed out.
Right after finishing, I immediately burst into tears. I called the woman in charge sobbing, told her I would not be able to come and, hung up the phone. Then, I sat in my car for a while and, practically unconsciously, went back through the drive through again. I bought a large chocolate milkshake and stared at it. I sipped it as my years poured in the cup and my knees began to shake. I realized I have a full-blown food addiction.
This is me in July of 2011 (Yes, I know, I have to wear stretchy pants.)…
Now, I know that I need to fix this. This is what my blog is for— to help keep me on track.
I hope my journey to overcome my addiction and lose weight helps others cope with similar struggles.
