hungry
when katie told me she was 98 pounds i was standing on the balcony in bartley's old house, the one with the fishing net surrounding it. i hadnt seen her in six months, since christmas, since before she left irvine to go back to alabama.
it had been a tough year. after a lifetime of collecting bits and pieces of her life, ones small enough to fit into a shoe box to give to her biological mother as soon as she turned 19 and had the legal right to find her, she finally did. after a lifetime of planning, of dreaming, of fantasies about being able to see herself stiched across the face of her "real mother," of doing extraordinary things just to be able to impress her, it happened, it was in front of her, flawed and dissapointing like most things that are nineteen years in the making turn out to be. she went through child services to try and find her, and when that didnt work, she hired a dectective. and on a gray day in november, she met karla, the woman who had given birth to her, the woman who had given her up.
she started training for a marathon. she would run outside but if it was raining, she would run up to twenty miles on a treadmill, the ceaselessly repetitive motion of it soothing and understandable. she decided california wasnt good for her right now- she had this new family and she had spent so long away from them, now was the time to catch up. she was thrilled she said, though karla would call her in the middle of the night, drunk and abrasive. she had been married over ten times, she couldnt seem to stick to one version of why she had to give katie up. she wasnt a mother figure, katie knew this, but there must have been something comforting about karla needing her, after so many years of katie needing karla, needing a faceless, angelic image of karla that did not exist, that had never existed in any place but within katie.
she started loosing weight because of all the running, and she looked good for awhile but i was so hesitant to tell her so, so afraid that it would become what it eventually did. while i was in london she wrote me that she had an eating disorder, but that she was going to meetings and it was getting better by the day. she also told me that she could hardly talk to karla anymore. her words were like a fork against katies teeth- they were supposed to deliver something good, something nourishing, but all they turned out to be was an uncomfortable sound and a cringing feeling.
when i got back to the states and talked to her on the balcony, we were planning a trip to santa fe. i had no idea that she had lost that much weight- about 40 pounds since the last time i saw her- and i was terrified, dreading seeing her. i remember talking to her on the phone that day, and hearing her say that when she got down to 111 she just knew she could never go back up to 112. it was a disease, it was a vacuum. she was on a special diet that controlled what she ate, so much so that she literally had to weigh everything on a special scale before she ate it. this seemed so contradictory to me- making a girl with an eating disorder even more aware of food, even more obsessed with smaller and smaller numbers. i asked her that day, because i had no other words,
what would you do if i said i was 98 pounds?
and she was quiet for awhile, and then she said,
i would say that isnt you.
when we met up in santa fe she didnt look as bad as i thought she would- apparently the diet she'd been put on was helping her not loose any more weight. but everywhere we went to eat there were a barage of things that had to happen to the food- no dressing, grilled lightly, extra bell peppers but no potatoes. it seemed unlogical the things she (or rather her "nutrionist") allowed herself to eat. she ate often but the types of food were so unappetizing- steak for breakfast, atkins dry cereal by the handful in between meals. everything had to be put on the scale- the apple before she ate it and then the core afterwards, to make sure she hadnt gone over the daily ounce limit.
i kept telling her that she didnt need someone to tell her what to eat- the food issues were a byproduct of all the other shit that shed been through, what she needed was a therapist. what she needed was someone to agree that she had been through things that most people cant even imagine, that she was hungry and needed things that couldnt be measured on a scale, that couldnt be toted around in a ziploc baggy.
the last night we were in santa fe i woke up at 5 am to what sounded like a garbage bag going down a chute, or something being squeezed through a tunnel. i wearily looked over to her bed and saw her on her side, reaching under her pillow for the hidden stash of baggies, filled with something i couldnt make out. i stayed still, trying not to let her notice that i saw. she sat up and propped herself up against the backboard as the sound of her crunching bounced off the dawn-lit walls.
what are you eating katie?
she stayed looking straight ahead, shoveling the substance into her mouth.
nothing, she said with her mouth full. absolutely nothing.
it had been a tough year. after a lifetime of collecting bits and pieces of her life, ones small enough to fit into a shoe box to give to her biological mother as soon as she turned 19 and had the legal right to find her, she finally did. after a lifetime of planning, of dreaming, of fantasies about being able to see herself stiched across the face of her "real mother," of doing extraordinary things just to be able to impress her, it happened, it was in front of her, flawed and dissapointing like most things that are nineteen years in the making turn out to be. she went through child services to try and find her, and when that didnt work, she hired a dectective. and on a gray day in november, she met karla, the woman who had given birth to her, the woman who had given her up.
she started training for a marathon. she would run outside but if it was raining, she would run up to twenty miles on a treadmill, the ceaselessly repetitive motion of it soothing and understandable. she decided california wasnt good for her right now- she had this new family and she had spent so long away from them, now was the time to catch up. she was thrilled she said, though karla would call her in the middle of the night, drunk and abrasive. she had been married over ten times, she couldnt seem to stick to one version of why she had to give katie up. she wasnt a mother figure, katie knew this, but there must have been something comforting about karla needing her, after so many years of katie needing karla, needing a faceless, angelic image of karla that did not exist, that had never existed in any place but within katie.
she started loosing weight because of all the running, and she looked good for awhile but i was so hesitant to tell her so, so afraid that it would become what it eventually did. while i was in london she wrote me that she had an eating disorder, but that she was going to meetings and it was getting better by the day. she also told me that she could hardly talk to karla anymore. her words were like a fork against katies teeth- they were supposed to deliver something good, something nourishing, but all they turned out to be was an uncomfortable sound and a cringing feeling.
when i got back to the states and talked to her on the balcony, we were planning a trip to santa fe. i had no idea that she had lost that much weight- about 40 pounds since the last time i saw her- and i was terrified, dreading seeing her. i remember talking to her on the phone that day, and hearing her say that when she got down to 111 she just knew she could never go back up to 112. it was a disease, it was a vacuum. she was on a special diet that controlled what she ate, so much so that she literally had to weigh everything on a special scale before she ate it. this seemed so contradictory to me- making a girl with an eating disorder even more aware of food, even more obsessed with smaller and smaller numbers. i asked her that day, because i had no other words,
what would you do if i said i was 98 pounds?
and she was quiet for awhile, and then she said,
i would say that isnt you.
when we met up in santa fe she didnt look as bad as i thought she would- apparently the diet she'd been put on was helping her not loose any more weight. but everywhere we went to eat there were a barage of things that had to happen to the food- no dressing, grilled lightly, extra bell peppers but no potatoes. it seemed unlogical the things she (or rather her "nutrionist") allowed herself to eat. she ate often but the types of food were so unappetizing- steak for breakfast, atkins dry cereal by the handful in between meals. everything had to be put on the scale- the apple before she ate it and then the core afterwards, to make sure she hadnt gone over the daily ounce limit.
i kept telling her that she didnt need someone to tell her what to eat- the food issues were a byproduct of all the other shit that shed been through, what she needed was a therapist. what she needed was someone to agree that she had been through things that most people cant even imagine, that she was hungry and needed things that couldnt be measured on a scale, that couldnt be toted around in a ziploc baggy.
the last night we were in santa fe i woke up at 5 am to what sounded like a garbage bag going down a chute, or something being squeezed through a tunnel. i wearily looked over to her bed and saw her on her side, reaching under her pillow for the hidden stash of baggies, filled with something i couldnt make out. i stayed still, trying not to let her notice that i saw. she sat up and propped herself up against the backboard as the sound of her crunching bounced off the dawn-lit walls.
what are you eating katie?
she stayed looking straight ahead, shoveling the substance into her mouth.
nothing, she said with her mouth full. absolutely nothing.
posted by Jessica Baxter | 1:37 PM
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