Note: This is one of a
couple of posts with reflections on two memoirs I recently read by those who
struggled with eating disorders:
- “Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia” by Marya Hornbacher
- “Stick Figure: A Diary of My Former Self” by Lori Gottlieb (diary entries from when she was eleven)
Do you think that being a woman means, by default, being on
a diet?
I don’t remember ever thinking this way when I was growing
up, but then, my mom didn’t diet. I never thought that perhaps this puts me in
the minority until recently reading two memoirs by those who had anorexia. Both
authors equated womanhood with dieting, and after reading their stories, I
could understand why.
Take Lori Gottlieb, who became anorexic at age eleven. Her mother
rarely finished her own food, instead giving most of it to her husband and son.
She instead “tasted” everyone else’s food, and Lori sometimes found her
sneaking sweets in the middle of the night.
Lori also had a friend whose mother had countless diet
books, and it seemed that everywhere she went, diets came up as a hot topic of
conversation among women. “Everyone’s mom loves talking about their diets and
how full you can get from eating lots of salad.” (p. 34)
In fact, it was so much the norm that she believed that this
was “just how you have to eat when you grow up.” (p. 59) That’s why she found
it so hypocritical when those women who barely touched their food (especially
her mother) chastised her for not eating enough.
As Lori lamented: “I wish I was a woman already so I could
diet and people would think it’s normal.” (p. 89)
Marya Hornbacher had a similar experience. Her mother hardly
ate anything, taking just a few bites before declaring herself full, and
usually sticking to salads. As Marya hit puberty and began developing, she started
following her mother’s patterns, nor was she alone.
She noted: “Puberty
is a perverse rite of passage in contemporary culture…. Girls, Becoming Women,
begin to emulate the older women in their lives: they diet…. They pinch their
bellies, announcing, ‘I’m not eating lunch today, oh, no, I really shouldn’t.’”
(p. 52)
Marya took it to the extreme with bulimia and anorexia, and
she eventually received treatment for her eating disorders. Once treatment stopped,
though, she discovered that: “There
are precious few women who eat normally. You get out of the hospital, look
around at what other people are eating, and realize the nice little meal plan
you’re on – though you need it to stay healthy – is not the norm. You start
cutting back. And back.” (p. 217) She cut back to the point of needing more
treatment and hospitalization, and nearly died.
Given their role models and influence of society, I began to
understand why these girls went to such extreme lengths to shrink themselves. It
made me reconsider my own upbringing and to realize that I have cause to be
grateful to my mom by providing a different example.
Don’t get me wrong. She certainly paid attention to what she
ate and was careful not to gain
weight. But that stemmed from health concerns (diabetes runs in the family),
and it’s a far cry from actively trying to lose
weight.
Additionally, if my mom wanted something sweet, she didn’t
sneak it in the middle of the night (that was more my style). She’d just have a
little chocolate, or eat one of my dad’s baked goodies, or suggest that we go
out for ice cream.
She could also go to town eating fruits and vegetables, but
it wasn’t because those were “good” or “allowed” foods. She simply loved them so
much that sometimes she ate a lot of them. Green beans, corn, fiddleheads, blueberries,
raspberries, and the list goes on.
Only now, in retrospect, do I realize how lucky this makes
me, to have grown up seeing a woman eating healthily and truly enjoying her
food. And I have to think that for people like Lori and Marya, having such an
example would make a positive difference, and help them realize that being a
woman does not mean that you have to
be on a diet.
No comments:
Post a Comment