Apologies in advance for the very bitter tone to this entry, but my opinion on IP treatment has gone from vaguely positive/neutral to ‘OH HELL TO THE NO’ since my tour of the ward.
So essentially, I am the fattest one there. And I know, I know, I can’t see myself properly, everyone says that, it’s the anorexic voice BLAH BLAH BLAH. I have heard that phrase so many times I don’t even… Argh. Everyone says it but it has to be true for one, logic dictates as much and guess what guys, it’s Faye! Yep. The average bmi is between 12 and 13 and I’m close on 14 so MATHS ALONE tells you that I’m the fattest, and also the views of my parents and the Beloved. The tour didn’t take very long as it’s a small ward, and naturally there were other patients- mainly pretty little broken girlies- meandering through the hallways or sprawled in common rooms, and we drove past the group walk on our way out. And guess what. EVERY LAST ONE looked skinny to breaking point, looked like she’d been hooked from collapse into the e.d ward and stuck in a pair of jogging trousers that hung in folds around her matchstick legs, hair pulled back from jutting cheekbones and enormous dinnerplate eyes, bodies folded neatly into little V shaped heaps against walls, too weak to stand as they waited for meds at the nurse’s office. And this is where you’re sending me. Me. I don’t belong there.
I am unhealthy looking, sure. I’m slim. Maybe I look too slim but I do not look emaciated like those girls and I am going to have to sit with them and eat six fucking times a fucking day and slowly inflate even further beyond them.
I’m not saying I want to look dead but I don’t want to be the fatty surrounded by skinny girls and at the moment that’s how it is.
Even my mum agreed. Reluctantly. I cried, screamed, raged at home, not at her but definitely to her- And she said yes, I looked like I could stand to gain a few pounds, and insisted that I should not want to look like them because those girls looked on the verge of collapse or worse. Which acknowledges that I do not look like them. Because I am bigger. Less sick, less NEEDING of that stupid bed. Which I am being admitted to at some point next week, possibly the week after, the funding needs to be approved but it’s a formality and I’m definitely getting it.
This is so, so unfair. I don’t belong there. I knew I wasn’t sick enough, but I thought there might be at least one person who was more than emaciation but I didn’t see one. Not one. Only me. It’s going to be humiliating. So fucking embarrassed. I don’t belong there and they all know it, they all see the difference between me and those other ACTUAL sick girls, and yet they’re putting me there in with me and I don’t know why but it’s humiliating, utterly, cripplingly, painfully humiliating. Showing me up as a failure.
I don’t have the time to lose enough weight to deserve to be there. I told the Significant Other that I am not going to eat until the date of my admittance but even that won’t do enough good. I’ll probably permit food on Saturday actually, because then it will be a week without, then dinner with Aunt, then fast again. Then I’ll at least be a little closer to their level, a little closer to deserving that place, though still not wanting or needing it.
All this is doing is spurring me on and reminding me that actually I’ve accomplished nothing at all.