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“Hey, these are my favorites!” she said, ripping the bag open.
“I know,” I said. “Why else would I keep them? They’re repulsive.”
“You are such a snob. You eat kale chips.”
“They’re good.”
“They are foliage. Just because you suck all the moisture out and make them crunchy foliage doesnotmake them taste like actual chips. No way. They’re nasty.”
“Those things are nasty,” I said, indicating the bright colored bag in her lap.
“The spicy burn makes me feel alive. You’re old so they probably irritate your heartburn or something.”
“You’re already salty enough with that attitude, maybe I’ll get you a bag of M&M’s to sweeten you up next time,” I teased as she munched some of the neon red puffs before brushing off her hands and grabbing the TV remote.
CHAPTER7
LEANNE
My Monday class with Professor Parks got me energized every week. Not just because the instructor was hot enough to have a modeling site with a paywall for the good pics. But because the content was always engaging, and the discussions were interesting. He didn’t just stand there and lecture. He wanted students to participate, and if I had something to offer on the topic, I chimed in.
When he introduced the topic of training a client who had serious body image issues including dysmorphia and eating disorders, I was in my element. He opened the floor to students for their ideas on how to begin. As I waited with my hand in the air, I had to sit through three other responses before I got my turn.
A woman in the front row said she wouldn’t work with the client unless they had a doctor’s note saying they were allowed to exercise. It could be a trick to try and lose more weight if they had anorexia. I tried not to roll my eyes.
“Ms. Peters, if the client discloses a medical concern be it relating to physical or mental health, a compassionate initial response would be to ask for more detail about how long they have been in treatment and what their current rehab protocol is. If they wanted to exercise on the sly against doctor’s orders, they probably wouldn’t go around telling people at the gym that they have a history of disordered eating, okay? Most adults would walk out if you demanded a medical excuse before working with them,” Professor Parks clarified. I wanted to high five him.
“So, if she’s not super skinny, I’d go ahead and show her the machines, and get her to do some cardio, see how her stamina is. Then I’d set her up with an easy workout plan so she doesn’t get discouraged. She’d be pretty weak coming off an eating disorder, right?” the next student said.
“Not necessarily,” Professor Parks actually pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath like he was trying not to tell this guy off. “The appearance of thinness is not necessarily indicative of an eating disorder. Many people with disorders may appear overweight or within a healthy weight range. Since a great deal of our body composition and shape is related to genetics, someone with, say, sturdy peasant ancestors, might not look frail or perform extremely poorly on a treadmill in a way you might think a stereotypical anorexic might,” he said. “Nine percent of Americans—and that’s probably a low stat because it’s underreported—let’s say at least one in ten people has a history of disordered eating whether they’re in treatment or not. It’s important to keep actual facts about that front of mind when dealing with clients who are recovering instead of relying on stereotypes.
I snickered under my breath at the ‘sturdy peasant ancestors’ part. Then I waited while another guy argued with the numbers the professor had referenced and said, “Look, there’s no way that many people starve or binge eat. People talk about it for attention like on TikTok. For sympathy and followers. It’s overblown. It’s like learning the newest dance routine or jumping off something to get likes, and maybe if you suck at what makes everybody else popular, you go for drama instead. Girls just use it to get attention or to make people feel bad for saying they’ve gained weight. Just go on a diet and don’t make such a big damn deal about it,” he said, disgusted. The way he said it, you could tell this guy believed it. That people would really do that to get followers.
I’d had enough. Fuming, I put my hand down and just started speaking before Professor Parks could even begin to respond.
“Look,” I said to the guy who then turned all the way around to look at me. “I want you to think about the thing you’re most ashamed of about yourself, something you did or something you justare. The thing that if everyone knew, there’s no way they’d ever talk to you again and they’d know what a complete waste of time you are. Now imagine making a video, adetailedvideo all about that thing you’re ashamed of. To get people’s attention. Does that even make sense to you? People do not disclose mental health issues or eating disorders for superficial reasons. It’s either confessed to someone you really trust, or it’s to try and get help for more people. That’s it. Just because you do stupid skateboard tricks or TikTok challenges to get followers doesn’t mean everyone is as shallow as you are,” I said, and the guy just gaped at me.
“That’s just more drama, look at my traumatic childhood and crap,” another student said, sticking up for her friend. “You didn’t like him pointing out that there are plenty of people out there who fake about having problems to get attention. So you bully him about it? I thought we were all in here tolearn, not to act like you’re the real expert.”
“If you want tolearnso much, try shutting up instead of arguing about the actual statistics of eating disorders. You do not know what you are talking about in this case at all. Telling your buddy there that he is completely in the wrong doesn’t make me a bully or dramatic, just so you know, that’snotwhat those words mean.” I knew I was being petty, but it felt good to take them both down, to strike a blow for all the people recovering from an eating disorder who had to listen to this bullshit every day when people didn’t believe us or take it seriously.
“Are you calling me stupid?” she asked, getting to her feet.
Professor Parks cleared his throat. “Miss Largent, please have a seat before this classroom discussion turns into an audition for Jerry Springer. Eating disorders are a very real medical problem. Exercise physiology is not a discipline that will accommodate science deniers. If you think eating disorders are fake, there’s the door. I’m frankly surprised any of you would reach this level in the program and still have these misconceptions. It looks like I’ll shuffle the syllabus a bit so we can spend the next class period busting some myths about disordered eating and having what I hope is a refresher on how to behave if a friend or client makes a disclosure to you about mental health, abuse, or any other serious problem. There will be a quiz afterward to ensure that you are ready to function as well-informed human beings who don’t give this program and profession a bad name,” he shook his head, the only betrayal that he was truly disgusted with the group. “We’ll turn to chapter nine now and clarify the key points so you don’t have to take my word for it—some very credentialed and well-regarded researchers are cited in this chapter about disordered eating. Feel free to ask any questions you may have. The first section here highlights…”
As he went over the chapter briefly, I felt like I was flying high. The thrill of both taking down an ignorant detractor and getting to watch Professor Parks refer to the people who knew nothing about eating disorders science deniers filled me with a kind of glee. I couldn’t help grinning. I felt understood and heard.
The program as a whole and this professor in particular were making a space for me, a nontraditional student because of my background fighting a disorder. So instead of focusing on what kind of Omega-3’s I should consume, and if I thought chia seeds were trash, I got to take part in an important discussion about anorexia and binge eating and exercise as a healthy tool, and maybe I could help someone else realize they had a problem and get help.
I felt empowered, on top of the world. When class was dismissed, as I walked down the steps from my seat, Professor Parks called me over. Several girls near me gave me dirty looks and whispered. They were so transparent that I could’ve laughed. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but by his expression he didn’t appear annoyed. When the room cleared, he looked up from his laptop screen, dipped his chin in a half-nod as if to acknowledge that, yes, I had waited.
He held out a sheet of paper to me. It was my application for the internship. He was giving it back? That wasn’t good. I felt my stomach twist. I took it and looked at it. There was no comment written on it or anything. What was I meant to be looking at?
“Is this yours?”
“Yes, why?”
“No name,” he said with a half-smile.
