The following is a guest post written and submitted not by a known blogger or guild member but by someone who is aware of the guild and who is still going through education. She writes about her own personal experience with what is a very important issue faced by so many today.
I therefore have absolutely no reservation in sharing it with you and thank her for sending it to us.
She had never been the kind of girl that felt comfortable in her own body. She had always been fat. She had always been the girl that didn’t eat birthday cake at parties, or changed in the safety of the bathroom stall because she was ashamed of her body. She didn’t know when it began, only that it did. She supposed that perhaps it was when, in her dance class at age five; the teacher suggested that perhaps she should lose a few pounds. Or maybe it was when the nurse came to grade one and weighed all of the students, and she was the heaviest girl. She didn’t know. Not that it mattered.
She stood shivering out in the cold desolate curb that was her bus-stop. The wind howled angrily as it raced by, whipping her hair against her skeletal face. Soon, the bright, happy yellow school bus arrived. The sound of the obnoxious, unnecessarily loud laughter wafted by her, its discernible stink making her crinkle her nose. She scowled, but determinately set her feet on the first step, then the second. Their attempts at whispering failed miserably. Or maybe they weren’t even trying. ‘That’s the one I was telling you about’ and ‘What a freak’ travelled to her unwilling ears as she made her way to her seat. Fourth from the front on the left side, with ‘Autistic Andy’. Not that he was really autistic; he was thus named for the stutter that often wracked his speech. She smiled at him as she sat down, then quickly looked away, her cheeks reddening slightly at the eager smile he gave her in return. They passed the rest of the bus ride in silence. Listening to the giggles of the girls as they flirted with the boys that were only interested in their bodies. And to the rude remarks that the boys made to prove this. And then again, the giggling of the girls, to show that they didn’t care.
She lingered on the bus, waiting with Andy. She wasn’t eager to plunge into the mess of emotional pain that was her high school life. Once everyone else had left, she had little choice in the matter though. She walked out of the bright yellow bus, and headed for a place far worse. Its muddy-brown walls were riddled with black eyes that watched her with malicious intent as she approached. She gulped nervously as she got nearer, and then allowed herself to be swallowed by its huge, gaping mouth.
The day passed as most did, for her. Her classes, anxious interludes to the dreaded walks through the hallways. Lunch, her sitting by herself on the rickety old picnic bench while she engrossed herself in the life of someone whose life was so much better. Her traitorous mouth salivated when people walked by with food, its scent so tempting to her forcefully empty stomach. ‘No’ she reminded herself. ‘You know how many carbs are in that.’ Or ‘You’d be a cow if you ate that!’ ‘No’ seemed to be the answer to everything these days.
It was not until she stepped off of the bus after her long day and onto safer ground that her shoulders released the tension that she had held there. ‘Another day done, only 182 more to go’, she thought to herself with a sigh of remorse. ‘That’s a long time.’ Even the chirping of the birds and the cheerful sun shining down couldn’t cure her dark temperament.
Walking into her small house in the country with a white picket fence all around it and a garden of pink and yellow gladiolas she heard her mom cheerily call out, ‘dinner’s almost ready! I made your favourite- lasagne!’ ‘Sounds great mom!’ She forced a happy tone to her words, as she did everyday (with varying amounts of success). She groaned inwardly though, silently lamenting that something as delicious as lasagne was still off-limits for her. Dinner was as delicious as her flawless blonde-haired, blue-eyed mother had promised. She ardently devoured three pieces of the cheesy, greasy lasagne before excusing herself on the pretence of a test the next day. She rushed to the bathroom upstairs, and, as soon as the door was securely locked, she shoved her index finger down her throat.
[Editor’s Note: I would again like to point out that this article was sent to us by someone who is neither a known blogger, nor a member of the guild. She (Silke) is instead a young lady who is still going through her education and who – aware of the guild – was brave enough to share her own personal story with us in the hope of reaching others.
I am so very grateful to her for sharing this with us and want to encourage her to continue in her writing and in expressing herself in this way. After all, aren’t the principle reasons why so many of us blog in order to find a voice for what we are experiencing and in the hope of reaching others?
If what Silke has shared with us has effected you in any way, or you would also like to encourage her, please feel free to comment below.]