Whether we want to look like a supermodel or to disappear in strict observances like an early Christian saint, we have some consciousness of appearance.
(it's not healthy)
How someone looks tells only part of the story of how they are doing. This is true for eating disorders. This is true for cancer. This is true for many ailments and malaises. In the eating disorder sphere, however, since extremes of appearance are how most lay people even recognize them, I feel I must emphasize the point particularly. Someone could be at a 'normal' weight after treatment and be in utter anguish. Someone could be at a 'normal' weight and still have to take various medications for damaged organs. Someone could look 'normal' and have a brain tumor. Someone could be at a low weight and steadily pulling together all aspects of their health and life. Someone could be at a higher weight than they've always been and starving themselves to maintain it because of undiagnosed hypothyroid. Someone could be overweight and starving themself. Someone could be underweight and making up for it. At any given moment, you might encounter one of these 'someone's. Someone could be bulimic with decades of practice in making sure you would never guess. Someone might look stunning and be suicidal. Don't make assumptions. When insurance companies won't cover treatment for someone because their weight isn't low enough, it makes me want to scream.
When treatment centers insist that weight restoration to 80% of your 'ideal' weight is essential and non-negotiable: that without this weight, physical and mental problems both will persist, it makes me want to scream. From my own experience, excepting times when things have gone out of control and I've had to go to treatment, I've felt worst and most in the thick of the disorder when I've been at a more 'normal' weight, especially in the wake of a masochistic 'experiment' five years ago to make myself gain far beyond my comfort level. Flip side: it's true, I've never had a regular menstrual cycle--I menstruated maybe a half-dozen times in the whole of my twenties; since then, only with progesterone pills and some other things and more weight--but, frankly, so what? It makes sense for not all women in a society to be set up for child-bearing. And since I'm thirty-five now, for heaven's sakes, that's all moot. Of course, there's a whole host of other reasons why progesterone's important, and many other physical issues in the mix too. Whatever my weight is, the internal damage is still there. I don't mean to be glib. With this condition, as with any relationship, balance, and even health, involve compromise.
(and frankly, it isn't attractive)
Moving from appearance as health-related to appearance as beauty-related, not a lot of people with eating disorders simply 'went on a diet' and took it too far because they wanted to look like/be a model. There are people who fit in that stereotype, but I'd have to say they're the minority. Far more common for someone to have heard their parents constantly commenting about other people's sizes, or for someone to have been bullied and had unkind things said to them regarding their body. And for there to have been trauma of some kind, lack of love, too much love of the wrong kind...Yes, the body takes the brunt; yes, some of us consider 'thin' the most aesthetically pleasing way for our bodies to be--we tend to be accepting of other people's bodies; we even don't understand someone wanting to lose weight if we think they're beautiful how they are.
But this isn't a twisted distortion on die(t)ing to be pretty.
Is not, despite the jumbles of beauty products that have to be kept as contraband behind the nurses' station, the banks of various fancy blow-dryers going early in the morning; the eyelash curlers, the specially approved electric shavers, the tweezers, the creams and lotions. Hair straightened, hair curled, nails painted to match clothes. I never normally get to hang out with girls in such an intimate setting, and, as my mum lamented a while ago, I'm kind of a feral girl--all I brought was a carry-on size tube of Dr Bronner's--so mornings in treatment feel like the green room behind the set for a play. Or for a masked ball? Being in treatment feels like being in a play in more ways than one.
A few of us covered up, barely showed skin, definitely not legs, didn't wear make-up, basic hair-brushing; but we were a tiny minority. Everyone else had an elaborate routine to 'get ready' in the mornings. I do see that a lot of it's cultural. Girls watch their moms, learn from each other in high school, read magazines. But doesn't it look like a vanity routine? I asked someone how she could care so little about herself and still spend so much time on her appearance. She replied that she had lost so much, including especially self esteem, and that spending time on her appearance felt like taking care of herself, felt like one thing she could feel good about.
You shrink and swathe yourself with baggy clothes. Or, you wear tiny cute clothes and a mask. Even though most of us didn't get into this because of focus on appearance, and despite all denials, there is some b.s. around clothes and clothing sizes, people trying to compare with other people. This can be especially crazy-making in treatment, gaining weight and self-conscious about it as new people come in.
I discovered how unusually laissez-faire I am about the whole clothing issue--I didn't bring many changes of clothes for the length of time I was 'inside.' And the whole idea of buying new clothes as your size changes is just beyond me. It's true, back in February I did post about doing precisely that, but although I still believe that conflating different goals can help with success in each, I think that was an ill-conceived, perhaps stupid, post. It was also inaccurate: I could have worn that size all along, but I shop at thrift stores, and just hadn't bothered to find the right size. I favor leggings generally, and with jeans it's just a matter of how tight my belt is, although depending on the cut there may be one or two pairs that simply don't stay up. But everything I just said shows that despite my laissez-faire around clothes, I too have some sort of issue about clothing and appearance. Perhaps I don't get the right size jeans because I like being able to slide them on without undoing them. I say I won't wear white because I'm a dirt magnet, which is true; but perhaps I also won't wear white because I think it makes me look fat, and the converse is why I wear so much black.
Perhaps this is just normal for any female, disordered or not. But if I, who would really rather disappear and be completely disembodied, have some clothing hangups, imagine how it would be for someone with an eating disorder who desired to be a model or a dancer.
There's more to be said on this. I'd love to hear the experience of anyone who cares to share--about the aesthetic aspect of the (your) disorder, to what extent a desire for thinness drove it, what you believe about the health implications, Whether you have/had/never had an eating disorder, it'll be an interesting conversation.
