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Starved

a detailed account of going from lack to abundance.

By HalaPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
1
Photo by Qi Xna via Unspalsh

//TW: eating disorders and drug use//

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Clara was startled awake by her alarm. She’d fallen into another late night binge after getting triggered by Instagram. It sent her spiralling into feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing. She ate everything in her path, an out-of-body experience. And the moment it was over, shame drowned her.

She spent the rest of the night purging everything she ate. Crying herself to sleep.

Jolting out of bed now, she ignored her body’s cries for more rest.

It’s time for my morning run. My body doesn’t know what it wants, she thought as she got dressed. She wouldn’t be doing her usual morning body-check and weigh-in today, not after last night.

She avoided the mirror altogether, filled with shame and disgust. Clara noticed the large clumps of hair falling out as she brushed it.

I should get some hair vitamins, Clara mused nonchalantly. She caught a glimpse of her normally deep olive skin looking unusually pale. Maybe some fake tan too.

In complete denial that her body was declining because of malnourishment.

This was an everyday battle for Clara, fighting her body’s yearnings for fuel, care, and rest.

She chugged her double espresso.

“Espresso, 2 calories”, she recorded in her little red food diary.

She had an early shift at Lenix Gyms today. She rushed out to start her run.

To Clara, exercise was a form of punishment. She’d ignore muscle cramps and dizziness, personifying the ‘No pain, no gain’ motto.

She stumbled into work unsteadily, then clocked-in and rushed into a bathroom stall, keen on avoiding her co-workers.

She checked her fitness-tracker for calories burned. Unimpressed, Clara vowed to make up for it later.

Maybe breakfast will clear the dizziness.

“Banana, 90 calories.” She scribbled, hands shaking.

She closed her eyes to clear the vertigo, which was taking longer today. A tear travelled down her cheek as she sighed.

Loathing her body took its toll.

______________________________

Clara grabbed some cleaning supplies and got to work. As she squatted to pick up a stray dumbbell, her legs buckled, and she almost fell. Clara stood up shakily and breathed.

I had too much coffee today, she lied to herself.

She continued cleaning slowly, holding on to the machines for support. Her body was screaming and she was gaslighting it.

You’re fine, you just need water.

She stepped onto the treadmill and started walking. She’s worked through dizziness before. No pain no gain. She commended herself on the misguided willpower.

Clara then began increasing the incline, then the speed. At a full sprint now. Her strides explosive.

She began seeing stars again. Then they disappeared.

Everything went black.

_______________________________

“How are you feeling? I’m glad you weren’t hurt badly.” Jazz, her manager, spoke softly.

“Oh I’m totally fine! Just forgot to eat!” Clara lied.

“I’m just going to come out and say it.”

Jazz took a deep breath and made direct eye contact with Clara. “I’m afraid we can no longer overlook your condition, Clara. This is the third time you’ve fainted on the main floor this month.” Jazz’s tone was apologetic.

“Condition?? I don’t-”

“Clara please. I know you think you’ve been hiding it but we’re not blind.”

Clara froze, speechless.

“Things have gotten worse since you lost your grandmother.” Jazz held Clara’s gaze. “We’re aware you have an eating disorder. And while we understand that you’re grieving, we’re concerned you are presenting a real risk to yourself. Effective immediately, you’re suspended indefinitely.”

Clara’s jaw dropped.

“You won’t be reinstated until you complete rehabilitation, which Lenix is willing to pay for.”

“No!” Clara retorted defensively. “I’m perfectly healthy. You’re way off base!” She stood abruptly.

“I understand this is a lot to process, please just think about it.” Jazz’s tone was empathetic.

“Keep your pity to yourself.” Clara spat out. “You don’t get me, none of you do!

She stormed out and slammed the door.

_______________________________

Back home, Clara couldn’t stop crying. Throwing a tantrum no one would see. The house felt empty without Teta (grandma in Arabic). Losing her broke Clara. Rather than coping with it, Clara fell deeper into her disorder to escape the pain. It was the only thing she had control over in this cruel world; first it took her parents away then her beloved Teta, who had taken her in after the tragic car accident.

Now Clara was alone. Her illness being her only companion.

Clara picked herself up and went to Teta’s room. Something she did when she craved her grandma’s comforting presence.

She opened Teta’s wardrobe and was engulfed by the familiar warm floral scent. Firewood and freesias. It made her smile.

Clara grabbed a chair and climbed it to explore the top shelf, which was unchartered territory to her. She was elated to find Teta's vintage handbag collection.

She saw a glimmer of red and knew immediately which bag she had spotted. The patent leather classic Chanel with gold hardware. It was Teta’s favourite, and unsurprisingly happened to be Clara’s too.

Clara clumsily reached for it bringing all the bags crashing down on her. She got up, dusted herself off, and reached for the bag fervently.

A little black leather-bound notebook slipped out of the bag.

Clara raised an eyebrow. I didn’t know she kept a journal. Intrigued, she immediately opened the notebook.

Clara’s eyes began to well with tears. Journal entries peppered with photos of young Clara with her late parents. Teta captioned the photos:

“Clara’s 1st birthday.” “Kameel and Dania’s first home.” “International Day at Clara’s kindergarten.” “Dania teaching Clara how to swim.”

Overcome with emotion, she skipped through swiftly. Unable to handle anymore sadness today. As she reached the end of the notebook she noticed that the backing had a pocket.

For a rainy day.” It read.

She pulled out a single piece of paper.

‘Dominion of Canada Premium Savings Bond’

Savings? Teta never saved. They lived paycheck to paycheck. They were never good with money.

It was dated the 21st of March 1958, and valued at $1000. Clara screamed with delight, this was the last thing she expected to find in the dusty old wardrobe.

Even after her passing, Teta was still looking out for Clara.

_______________________________

At the bank, Clara was jittering with excitement. One thousand dollars was a lot of money for humble Clara, who’d been working since she was fourteen.

“Which account would you like to deposit the $20,000 into?” The bank teller said.

“$20,000????” Clara exclaimed, utterly stunned.

“Yes ma’am, this bond aged quite well.” The teller turned the computer screen to show her the upward trend.

Clara passed on her account details, wholly dumbfounded.

Back home as things started to sink in. Clara was already spending all the money in her head. She’s never even seen this much money, let alone have it at her full disposal. Saving was the last thing on her mind. Clara made calls to book a contractor. The house has needed renovations for years. She wanted a little home gym too.

The next morning, Clara headed to a specialty store she’d always been curious about.

She was amazed by the swanky selection. She went to grab a ‘detox’ green juice. As she reached for it, another girl did as well.

“These drinks are bitchin’, aren’t they!” The girl said to Clara.

“Oh I don’t know, it’s my first time here.”

“Oh. Em. Gee! No way, they’ve got a juice bar in the back where they make these fresh.” The girl extended her hand, “I’m Freddie!”

“Clara” They shook hands. “Do you think you can help me out? I’m looking for the low-cal section.”

“You’re speaking my language girl!”

The girls ended up bonding over their bad habits. They had the ‘detox’ juices after shopping, then Freddie told Clara to come over for a small get together later on.

Later that evening, as Clara's cab pulled up, her jaw dropped. It was a full-blown mansion.

“You didn’t tell me you were a billionaire!” Clara said.

“Oh shut up bitch, I’m just a little old millionaire” Freddie said as she let out an obnoxious laugh.

Clara faked a laugh. This was not a small get together, it was a full-on rave.

“So girl, have you tried Coke before?” Freddie asked Clara, winking cheekily.

“Oh only diet” Clara said naively.

“I’m talking about nose candy, girl!” Freddie said, and when Clara looked just as confused, she audibly whispered “Cocaine, idiot.”

“Oh no I don’t do that stuff” Clara said immediately.

“Oh come on, live a little! It’s a great weight loss method, everyone does it.” Freddie pressured.

Clara hesitated for a moment, then agreed. Succumbing to the peer pressure.

As the party went on, Clara started experimenting with other ‘weight loss methods’ as Freddie called them. Freddie and her friends pressured Clara to stay, so she did.

One night of partying quickly turned into two, then three, and all of a sudden a whole week had passed. Clara spent $5000 in the space of one week on drugs, VIP booths, and other senseless junk that she couldn’t remember. She was worn out. She’d barely eaten all week, she’d never felt weaker. And she’d never felt less like herself.

She decided it was time to go home.

On the cab ride home, Clara watched the rain drops through the window. Her tears slowly followed suit. Who have I become.

Back home, Clara went straight into the shower.

The water washed over her and she imagined it washing away all her pain. Stepping out of the shower, she gazed at her frail body in the mirror. The hollows under her eyes were dark purple. Her bones visible. Pale skin, wispy hair. She didn’t recognise herself.

She threw on a robe and went straight to Teta’s room. The red bag was right where she’d left it, the little black notebook laying on top.

Clara sat on the floor and started flicking through. Looking at the photos made her feel like herself again. She then stumbled on a photo that transported her back in time.

She was eight years old, missing teeth on full display as she smiled wide with her eyes squeezed shut, the look of pure joy. Placed in front of her was her favourite dish of all time; Teta’s special Mac n’ Cheese.

At that moment Clara decided to break out of the prison that was her disorder. This was her turning point. Feelings of sadness and guilt came up. So many wasted years fearing food and weight gain. Years of counting calories instead of memories. Years spent without that pure joy little Clara felt in that photo.

I’ve had enough.

Clara checked herself into a rehab facility the next morning.

Rehab entailed three supervised meals and two snacks per day. Clara struggled, she was not used to eating this much. She learned a lot about the evils of diet culture, fatphobia, and weight stigma. She began to see her own fatphobia and denounce it. She learned that health exists at every size. In fact that health and aesthetics were not correlated at all!

She pinned the Mac n’ Cheese photo to her wall as a reminder when times got tough. She was doing this for her after all. She stayed for 4 months. Her doctors were pleasantly surprised by her will to get better. I’m sick of being sick, she’d tell them.

Upon completing rehab, Clara continued therapy, recognizing that this was going to be a long-term commitment. She gained weight, exercised out of love for her body instead of hatred, and stopped body checking. She learned to value herself outside of her appearance. Clara eventually became grateful for her experiences, because it drove her to start a facility of her own; MnC Centre.

She hired a graphic designer to draw a logo that resembled the photo of little Clara. She hired her old co-workers from Lenix as fitness counsellors.

Clara learned that her relationship with food was similar to her relationship with money, one of lack. She was incessantly afraid of losing money or gaining weight, so she acted compulsively in both situations. She was starved of stability. Getting help satiated her. She filled the void with virtuousness, self-love, and forgiveness.

Clara threw away her old food diary and never looked back. She started her own journal, buying a little black notebook of her own.

And instead of tallying up calories, Clara began tallying up happiness.

coping
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About the Creator

Hala

28. She\Her. Taking down the patriarchy, white supremacy and other tired BS, one weird metaphor at a time.

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