Young Adult Literary Fiction / Poetry About Eating Disorders And Self Esteem
Thin by Ann K. Morris
Book Excerpt
I wrap my arms
around myself,
squeeze tightly,
as if unwilling to let go,
but I have no idea why.
“Why are you so upset, Mom?”
Tears pool
in my eyes
for reasons
I have yet to find out.
Mom leads me
by the hand
into my bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She says nothing,
sits heavily
on my unkempt bed.
“Erin,” she says,
her voice flat,
dry as a desert.
I raise my eyebrows
in response.
“That was Dr. Hedrick
on the phone.
He has your blood test results.”
“So?”
I sit next to Mom.
“They found an abnormality
in your blood.”
Mom’s face is devoid
of emotion,
a robot,
the way she gets
when she’s overwhelmed
and nearly shuts down.
“You have a very low number
of white blood cells,
so they did further testing.”
“So?” I repeat.
“Erin, Dr. Hedrick said
you’re anemic and
malnourished
and your blood pressure is low.”
Mom chokes on a mouthful
of air.
“He said you told
his nurse you want to lose weight.
How could you think that
when you’re so thin?
Dr. Hedrick said he suspects
that you’re anorexic.
He wants you to see
a psychiatrist.”
Mom takes a deep breath.
“Erin,” she says,
“why didn’t you tell me
you have an eating disorder?”
My eyes get big
and my mouth hangs open.
“Because I don’t!”
Mom nods, buries her face
in her hands,
and
for a moment,
a nanosecond maybe,
I wish she would throw her arms
around my neck,
bury her face
in my hair,
instead of her own hands.
“I’m so ashamed,” Mom says.
“How could I
have missed it?
You’re so thin,
you eat so little.
Am I blind?”
“I can’t have anorexia,
Mom,” I say,
with anger in my voice.
“I eat a lot.
Too much!
I’m fine.”
Mom continues to nod,
her face still hidden
beneath her hands.
I see her pain
but do not feel it.
“Madison Garcia went
to a clinic
for anorexia
in seventh grade,
remember?” I say.
“They forced her to eat,
like,
twenty thousand calories a day.”
Mom shakes her head.
“I remember Madison.
She nearly starved herself
to death.
That clinic saved her life.
And they did not force feed her
twenty thousand calories a day.
She ate a normal diet,
I remember talking with her mother.”
“Well, she ended up looking
like an eggplant,” I say.
“She gained so much weight,
she had to buy a whole new wardrobe.
She said all her underwear hiked
up her butt,
and she had to start wearing
an underwire.
She was thirteen!
And about three hundred pounds!
No way, Mom,
there’s no way,
no
way
that I am seeing
a psychiatrist.”
Yuck
I suddenly feel nauseous
and run
to the bathroom just
in time
to hurl twelve ounces
of diet soda
into the toilet.
God, it’s gross!
Mom holds my hair,
strokes my back,
soothingly,
calmly,
lovingly.
“Madison Garcia went
from emaciated
to a healthy weight,”
Mom says.
“She did not weigh
three hundred pounds.”
“I am not going to get fat,” I say,
ignoring Mom’s comment.
I fall back
on my bed,
begin to cry,
quietly at first,
and then pain comes gushing out
in great heaving sobs,
a loud wail,
pathetic, but so real,
like an injured animal
acting only
on instinct.
“We’ll have to tell Dad,”
Mom says,
her voice a monotone
as she lies next to me,
rests her head
against my back.
“What’s the point?” I ask,
resentment oozing
out of every pore
in my body.
“He won’t care.
Anyway, I’m never going back
to Dr. Hedrick,
and I’m not seeing
any other doctor.
Let’s just forget
Dr. Hedrick’s call,
pretend nothing happened.”
“This is serious!”
Mom barks
into the stale air.
I turn to see
her face stricken,
yet I still don’t feel
her pain.
“And it’s not all
about you,”
Mom says.
“You are my baby,
and you are not going to
continue hurting yourself.
Do you hear me?
Do you?”
I nod,
cowed
by Mom’s sudden fury.
Mom’s standing now.
“Dr. Hedrick said that
anorexia explains
your fainting at MK’s party.
He said you could be
in serious danger,
of heart failure,
osteoporosis,
infertility.
You’ve already lost
muscle mass.”
Mom tap-taps
out of my room
and I close my eyes,
inhale,
try to keep anger
from making me scream.
Dad
An hour later,
we’re sitting
around the kitchen table,
Mom, Dad, and me,
sitting and talking
about what Mom calls
“vitamin and mineral deficiencies.”
“She’s also anemic
and has severely
low blood sugar,”
Mom says.
She stretches her hand
out
toward Dad,
but he just nods and stares
out the window,
and I realize that even though
I don’t know him very well,
I know he isn’t thinking,
I can’t stand to lose my baby girl.
He’s probably thinking,
I hope the Bears win
the Super Bowl this year.
His mind is a million miles away.
Mom continues.
“Dr. Hedrick gave me the name
of a psychiatrist,
said he’s the best
in the city,
specializes
in eating disorders.
We have an appointment
for tomorrow morning.”
I hear Mom’s words
but feel nothing,
probably
because I know
I’m not doing any of it –
no psychiatrist,
no counseling,
no rehab.
Book details
AUTHOR NAME: Ann K. Morris
BOOK TITLE: Thin
GENRE: Literary Fiction
SUBGENRE: Young Adult Fiction / Poetry
PAGE COUNT: 288
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