In spite of being more of a tomboy, I always envied the girls in my school. They wore skirts, they wore makeup, and they even brought purses to school instead of backpacks. Me, I always wear jeans and hoodies, I hate makeup, and I always carry a backpack to school like all the other boys. I envied girls for being feminine and everything, whereas I’ve always been one of the boys just because I’m used to bonding with my two older brothers. I prefer talking about Sonic the Hedgehog, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Mortal Kombat. I even loved talking about this TV show about intergalactic robot monkeys that live in a giant super robot. None of these things are what girls talk about. It’s mostly a boy thing and I was always with the boys when I talk to them about these topics. It sometimes made me want to join the girls, but honestly, I prefer being with the boys.
The most triggering thing that I always envied the girls for having is being skinny. I mean, really skinny. Like supermodel skinny. I’m talking about Angelina Jolie skinny.
When I looked through my baby pictures, I realized that I was chubby, in which I couldn’t even tell if baby fat is supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing. I grew up eating almost everything, and I pretty much liked almost everything. Although, one type of food that I always abhorred ever since I was little was red meat and poultry. I always hated the looks, the texture, and the taste of any kind of meat. I wondered to myself, should I be a vegetarian? The answer is it depends on how long I could withstand without animal flesh during childhood. My parents made me eat meat because they believed in balanced diets. My mom would make me and my brother hot dogs and burgers for either lunch or dinner. I hate hot dogs. I have always hated hot dogs for as long as I can remember; to me, they look like a man’s phallus and they tasted like one, too. I also hate pork, especially bacon and ham, because they tasted like a pig’s ass and innards. I could have sworn that I nearly got my arteries clogged from eating only one strip of bacon. It was so fatty and greasy, it’s nasty. Whenever my mom feeds me hot dogs and burgers, I would reluctantly eat them to make her happy, despite the fact that the tastes of them makes me sick. After devouring about two hot dogs or two burgers, I would run into the bathroom minutes later—and I would throw everything up in the toilet.
That’s when it begins.
When I was fourteen, I learned about this method where you jam your fingers down your throat and puke everything up to prevent gaining weight. It started off in the beginning of high school where I wanted to stay as skinny as I could, so that I’d look good enough to make the other average girls jealous. Seeing other girls get jealous of me because of my gothic sense of style and my body type was the most rewarding feeling I’ve ever gotten. However, there are downsides to this feeling.
At home, whenever I look in the mirror, I see myself as fat and imperfect. I would see fat on my arms and legs, and I would even see something flabby on my belly. I would stand on the scale every hour to see if I gained or lost weight; and whenever the number on the scale got high, I would freak out. A hundred pounds was way too high for me, and my goal was to go down to less than eighty-five pounds.
So, this is where my obsession to stay skinny begins.
It started off with bulimia. I developed an irrational love-hate relationship with food by the time I turned fifteen. I would eat a ton of food in one sitting. Then, the guilt comes, and I would get rid of it all by jamming my fingers down my throat and then purge everything out until I feel empty. The cycle would continue. Binging then purging, then binging and then purging again. It just wouldn’t stop. The challenge to being bulimic is that I had to do it in the privacy of my home. I had to make sure that I was home alone during the process of this disgusting cycle. I didn’t want to let my own family know about this; they would never understand coming from a conservative household. I worried of what my parents, brothers, and the rest of my family would think. The last thing I wanted was help, and I didn’t think that I needed help at that time. I actually thought vomiting all the time was natural. I had to make up excuses of why I kept throwing up, such as “something I ate” or “the food was bad,” which were partially true.
Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. I still believed that I was in the fat category. Purging by self-induced vomiting was not enough for me. So, I turned to laxatives when I did some research that they could prevent weight gain. I would buy boxes of laxatives from Rite-Aid or CVS and hide them from my own parents. The recommended dose the boxes said only one, but it was not enough for me. I took more than one dose at a time. Then, the urge to go to the bathroom would come and I would instantly release everything from down there. This made me go to the bathroom more often than I thought. It wasn’t until suddenly in the middle of the night, I had to use the bathroom, so I went—and I ended up releasing nothing but water from down there. After I was done, I went back to my room to catch up on some sleep; on my way back to my room, I was dizzy and everything around me felt like it was spinning uncontrollably. I then fainted on my bed, just in time. The next day—it was all a blur. I abruptly do not remember what happened that night. I then realized that I was very thirsty, so I drank a whole bottle of water. I knew right away that I was dehydrated from those laxatives. After coming into conclusion of what these laxatives did to me, I thought that this was the end of it. Not the end of bulimia, but the end of taking laxatives. It was too much for me to handle. So, I went back to self-induced vomiting. Purging by vomiting was the only alternative for me to stay skinny. I went with it.
I would even fast during the whole day of school. I would skip the lunch period and then head to the library instead. I would always say “I’m not hungry” to anyone who asked me if I ate or offered me food. As tempting as how good the food seemed, I had to deny everything they served me. I just couldn’t risk gaining weight from eating something that had a lot of calories. It was a red flag for me. I also had a thing for vending machines in the school. I would just purchase one tiny, small item from the machine, count the calories on the label, eat only some of it, and then save the rest for later—or better yet, throw the rest away in the trash. Whenever I felt like I ate too many vending machine snacks, I would excuse myself to the bathroom, and purge everything down the toilet.
I also did some more research at home after school. I found out about this liquid diet that was trending at that time, and realized how many celebrities did that. I figured that I should try that as well, just in case. Every morning before school, I would drink lots of coffee; not only did coffee keep me awake throughout the whole school day, but it also made a great natural laxative for me. I didn’t have to take any more laxatives that time when all I had was coffee. I thought that coffee would make a nice appetite suppressant and would also help me lose weight naturally. So, I did. I would drink about two to three cups worth of coffee in one morning and fast for the rest of the day, while the rest I’d have to wait and see what would happen next. I ended up going to the bathroom more than I thought—and everything would be released. Days later, I stood on the scale, and I dropped down to less than ten pounds. It was a success for me.
I kept this as my daily routine. Although, it was not over yet.
I’d then get very irritable for not eating. When dinner comes, I would binge everything I cooked for myself, and then purge everything at the end of the day out of guilt. I would eat three packs of ramen noodles, and then throw it all up. I would eat two boxes of macaroni and cheese, and then throw it all up. I would even order myself pizza; I’d eat the whole huge pie in one sitting, and… you guess it. I’d throw it all up. Everything just never stops, but it was the only solution for me.
Having bulimia had a lot of negative side effects. My teeth were all yellowed, my breath smelled like vomit, my cheeks suddenly felt swollen, and my period became very light and lasted only two days. I’d thought that the light period was a benefit for me at first because then I would use less pads to save money, I wouldn’t need tampons, and I’d be less irritable than I’d normally be back when my flows were heavy. I also didn’t have to worry about those huge bloodstains on my underwear. Although, it wasn’t until I found out that this was not a benefit. It was a risk. Lighter periods means that something was wrong with my body and that I needed to do something about it. But I didn’t listen to myself; I was that stubborn. I persisted in the binge and purge cycle. It was the only way for me to stay skinny… and I was still not skinny enough.
When I was sixteen, my abhorrence for food came and this was when I took things too far. All of a sudden, I stopped eating throughout the whole school day. I rejected every food there was around me. No carbs, no fats, no sugar—most importantly, no calories. All I ever had was a few cups of coffee, water, and other liquids. I kept counting calories; I kept making sure that I didn’t eat over a hundred calories. I only took nibbles of small portions of food. I would fast as long as I could. I didn’t want to eat ever again. I hated eating. That was when my bulimia turned into anorexia.
While I was suffering from anorexia, I realized something more drastic than I thought. I went down to eighty-five pounds. I kept exercising more than the recommended time per day. I would either get extremely light periods or no periods at all. There were times where I get the urge to eat. Although this only happened occasionally, I would eat something big, and then the guilt would come back, and I would still purge. After the occasional binge and purge, I would then drink lots of water to wash everything down and then go back to fasting for hours. Sometimes, I would chew lots of sugar-free spearmint gum to suppress my appetite and to freshen my breath after the purge. It was the most fucked up high school years I went through, though it was the only way for me to be like one of those supermodels and celebrities I’ve seen on TV and magazine covers. I wanted to look just like them, so the fasting and not eating became an obsession for me.
As time passed by, things have gotten worse.
I ended up getting dizzy all of a sudden. During PE class, I would pass out on the floor in the school gym while running laps around it. I then would wake up a while later on one of the infirmary beds in the school nurse’s office. When I woke up, the nurse told me that I fainted and then she asked me a lot of questions. She asked me if I was eating okay and if I had plenty of food in my system. I knew where this was going. I lied to her that I was fine and that I was eating fine. The nurse didn’t buy it. She checked my pulse and then told me that it was too high, which became the reason why I fainted before. The nurse could already tell that something was not right about me; she noticed that I was dangerously underweight, and that I should go home early. She couldn’t risk another fainting spell in her office, especially when it’s pertaining to me. That was when I decided to come clean.
I told the school nurse about my anorexia and that I stopped eating. She recommended me to see a specialist for eating disorders, and then sent me home. She even called the rest of my teachers that I will not be attending to their classes that day as an excuse. During my bus ride home, I looked at that slip of paper the nurse gave me. I’ve been debating about it ever since. As much as I liked how the nurse was there for me whenever something was wrong with me, I was skeptical about the specialist she recommended to me. I didn’t want to go through another torture of explaining my personal stories and struggles to strangers, even though it would help me overcome it. I just don’t want to get emotional in front of someone; I didn’t want anyone else to see me how vulnerable I was, it was too much for me to handle. I mentally debated about this on the bus until I got home. I went into my room and then put the slip of paper underneath my books. I told myself, “I’ll think about it.” Time passed by as I thought about it, and then I went back to fasting for a long period of time, followed by eating and then purging.
The cycle never broke for the rest of my high school years. Every week, I had to go to the school counselor’s office, so that she could keep track of my eating habits. She told me to always keep a food journal with me, and she would ask me what I had for breakfast every morning. I kept answering, “just coffee,” and she was not impressed. The school counselor would always keep some food in her office, just in case of any emergencies for me and all the other students who also suffered from eating disorders. She offered me a piece of chicken; I reluctantly accepted it. The cold baked chicken made me gag, though I was able to keep it down. Then, the school counselor offered me some slices of raw radishes. I accepted those, too, since vegetables were basically all I ate during my anorexic years. However, when I took a bite of that radish, I gagged as well, though I was able to keep it down as well. I never ate radish ever again; it was just so spicy and bitter. The weekly sessions with the school counselor continue until the end of my senior year.
By the time I turned into a senior at the end of the year, the school counselor told me something I can never forget. She told me about the fatalities of both bulimia and anorexia. She even showed me pictures of people with eating disorders. Finally—she showed me a picture of a coffin. She told me, “This is where you’re going to end up in if you don’t combat your anorexia, Nicole. This could be the end of you. Think about your loved ones if they see you in this. I know that this is not where you want to end up in a few years. You must fight this before it’s too late, Nicole.”
I ended up crying after hearing all of that and seeing the coffin. I just couldn’t help it. It was too emotional for me. The school counselor told me that it was okay to cry and to let it all out. So, I did. I had both of my hands covering my face during this ordeal as I sobbed uncontrollably. The next thing I knew… I was in her arms. She comforted me. She actually comforted me. I ended up crying in her embrace. This lasted for countless minutes. Afterwards, we broke apart and we made teary eye contact. With all the audacity I had within me, I told her…
“I’m going to fight it. I’m going to combat this. I will eat again.”
In spite of the melancholia within me… I smiled for the first time ever. She smiled back at me. Then, we hugged again. That was the end of our final session… and I will never forget this.
When I got home on the last day of high school, I went back to eating. No binging, no purging, and definitely no fasting. I slowly took my time to eat again, pace by pace, and portion by portion. I ended up eating about a thousand calories per day again. My period even went back to normal. I couldn’t believe it. I have fought it. I finally fought it. I went from eighty-five pounds to ninety, and then to one hundred. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I couldn’t believe the results. I remained thin, though not underweight. My body type turned to average. For the first time ever….
I am happy. I am happy about the results.
I have remained like this since the day I started college. Throughout college, I have been eating right, and I never worried about what people would think about my body type. I remained confident about my body throughout my college years.
No more shame. No more forcing myself to look like one of those supermodels and celebrities in magazines.
No more being a skinny bitch.
-Nicole Cheng, 2024
Become a Fighter, Not a Victim <3 