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“But you aren’t fat!” Sophie said, her eyes wide.
“Not now. And that leads right into the next stupid thing I did.”
“What?”
Phyllis had the girl’s attention now.
“I did a complete reversal. I started punishing myself by not eating at all. For a brief period there, the only time I liked myself was when I went twenty-four hours with less than a thousand calories. And the scariest part was that I didn’t know I was still punishing myself. I thought I was finally coming through for me, becoming the healthiest, most attractive person I could.”
“Well, it worked,” Sophie said. “You look great.”
Coming from someone whose whole life, whose sense of beauty and very sense of self was based on being thin, that was indeed a compliment.
“It didn’t work,” Phyllis came back immediately. “I realized I wasn’t doing myself any good by risking my health. I knew from my research and clinical experience that if I didn’t stop, I’d wake up some morning and have to get out of bed in stages because I’d be too dizzy to stand. Or too weak. I’d end up having trouble concentrating. And my emotions would be all over the place.”
Phyllis tried to remember the other symptoms Matt had listed, certain she could name them, too. Because while she was definitely choosing words that were designed to help Sophie see herself, they were also the truth. Her own lack of perspective on the issue of weight had never been as extreme, or as long-term, but it was something Phyllis had experienced. She understood Sophie’s dilemma on a personal, as well as a clinical level.
“Must’ve been rough,” Sophie said. If she was getting the message, she was damned good at hiding the fact.
And to this point, Sophie hadn’t been good at hiding anything. Not her nervousness. Or her complete lack of interest in being there when she’d first arrived.
Her genuine fondness for Matt.
“Yeah. The roughest part was recognizing what I was doing. After that, I lost weight the right way. A healthy diet and exercise. It wasn’t easy to start eating again, though.”
“What’s so hard about eating again?” Was that scorn in the girl’s voice? Or was Phyllis just so intent on helping Sophie, on helping Matt, that she was looking too hard and seeing things that weren’t there?
“When you’ve learned to hate yourself for every bite you take and love yourself for every bite you don’t, having to eat is very difficult. For that first week or so, I’d make myself eat a healthy meal and then feel depressed. I couldn’t bear to go out or have anyone see me because I was sure they’d see every single calorie and fat gram as though I were wearing them on top of my clothes, instead of underneath.”
“You could always wear bulky clothes.”
Gotcha, Phyllis thought. Sophie was right there on the journey with her, traveling a familiar road.
“But you have to take them off sometime. To bathe. Change. And what about when you want to go swimming?”
Sophie sat up. “Yeah, well, I’m sure glad I don’t have to go through that,” she said confidently. “I eat too much sometimes, too, but I don’t ever gain weight. I guess I’m just lucky to have such a great metabolism.”
As she spoke, Sophie started to flick her right index finger with her thumb. Rapidly enough that Phyllis couldn’t help noticing—even if she hadn’t been keenly observing every nuance of the girl’s body language since she’d walked in the door.
Not only was the nail on Sophie’s right index finger shorter than all the others, but there was an almost blisterlike scab on her lower knuckle, as well. Phyllis knew what that meant.
She’d bet her life’s savings—her baby’s college fund—that it wasn’t metabolism keeping Sophie skinny when she broke down and went on an eating binge.
“You are lucky,” she replied calmly, while her mind buzzed with options. “So that’s one thing you’ve got going for you. What are some others?”
If Sophie wasn’t ready to admit her problem—it was entirely possible she hadn’t even acknowledged it to herself yet—perhaps Phyllis could take a less obvious path to offer assistance. Eating disorders were usually a physical manifestation of an emotional problem. A symptom. If she could tend to the real problem, help Sophie find value in herself as a person so that she wasn’t forced to derive all her worth from her body, then perhaps the anorexia and bulimia would die away.
Sophie had been considering the question quite seriously. Or at least she appeared to be doing so. It was also possible that she couldn’t concentrate enough to find an answer at the moment.
Or sadder yet, couldn’t find one, period.
“How about your grades?” Phyllis asked. She knew they were good. Matt had told her that. “You ever hit the dean’s list?”
“Yeah, every semester since I’ve been here.”
“Okay, that’s huge. You know, I have students who have to study nonstop just to get the Cs necessary to stay in this program.”
“Bummer.”
