Body Anxiety

By Helen Gratsos
Young People’s Press

Since the start of high school, I have been struggling with my failure to meet the standards I set for how I want to look.

Nothing seems to work. I have counted calories and fat grams, exercised myself to exhaustion, and forbidden myself food. I hold my stomach in every time I’m standing and I almost always wear black.

I have read books like ‘Portrait of an Anorexic’, ‘Eating Disorders’ and ‘Never Too Thin’, as well as books on how to diet.

The images of women I see on posters, billboards, ads, commercials, movies and television make me shudder and remind me of all that I am not. However, I don’t try to avoid these icons. I feel I need to rely on them to keep myself in line. Regularly, I am compelled to pose in front of the mirror. I critique my reflection to determine what shakes, wiggles, and jiggles, or appears loose and flabby. I study how various parts of my body appear in numerous positions.

There are many methods to my madness. I check to see how far my foot is from the ground when I cross my legs, whether or not my thighs meet at the top, how obvious my stomach is and how much cellulite I have.

The ultimate way I have to convince myself I am thin is trying to see the way that certain bones reveal themselves throughout my body. I particularly look to see if my spine, collar bones, shoulder blades, knuckles, wrists, ribs and, most importantly, my hip bones are visible.

I beat myself up psychologically for any flaws I find.

The worst torture in trying to maintain my self perception of skinny perfection is the shopping excursion.

Here too, I have my methods. Once I have chosen something to try on, I will try to hide the size of my item in an attempt to fool the sales woman into thinking I am a size one. I will then choose a fitting room as far removed as possible from the rest of the store and hope the mirror is attached to the inside of the door.

Not all fitting rooms have mirrors on the inside, so if I really want to be cautious, I will gear myself up with girdles, tummy tucking, butt lifting, hip and thigh reducing and bust enhancing undergarments before I try something on.

Only then am I prepared to model for myself, other patrons and the sales help in a completely ‘non-threatening environment’.

At home, my struggle is entirely different. My mother, who has always seen that I eat adequately, is not pleased with my increasing weight obsession. When she eventually caught on that I was skipping lunches she was upset but couldn’t persuade me to stop missing meals.

Thanks to that strong family support, I have not succeeded in losing any massive amount of weight, I have never been hospitalized, and I never got the symptoms of anorexia I have longed for: a pale face, dark circles under my eyes, hair loss, feeling cold and weak and, of course, the compliments and congratulations that come with weight loss.

So far, my only symptoms have been dizziness, fatigue, irritability, stomach cramps, inconsistent menstrual cycles, body aches, pain, headaches, nausea and constant fainting.

Now, each day is its own day. I have my ups and downs. But I am starting to understand that accepting myself for who I am is the beginning to my eventual self fulfillment.

Helen Gratsos, 18, attends Cedarbrae High School in Toronto.