Lori Gottlieb was a precocious kid in 1970s Beverly Hills, keener on math and chess than clothes and makeup. But by age 11, she'd acquiesced to one hometown precept: you can never be too thin. Always fiercely competitive, Gottlieb, '89, became an olympian dieter -- and before she was 12 found herself hospitalized with life-threatening anorexia. Three years ago, she rediscovered the journals she'd kept during her adolescent illness. Now in her 30s, she has published her diary as a cautionary tale.
There's a catch to everything in this hospital. I finally got to sleep late, but the second I woke up, Bonnie came in. She said that Dr. Gold wants me to fill out meal cards again, except this time we have to do them together. "It'll be fun!" she said in her cheery voice. Real fun. Bonnie wanted me to request fattening things like omelets and sausage, but I told her that normal women don't eat that much food at breakfast. The Special K lady doesn't. Bonnie kept saying they do, though, so I told her that if she would eat the exact breakfast she puts on my tray each morning, in front of me, I'd think about eating it, too. That's when Bonnie said she'd tell Dr. Gold how uncooperative I am, and I said I'd tell Dr. Gold what a phony she is.
Before my session with Dr. Gold, I heard Bonnie complaining about how I want her to eat the huge breakfast with me, but Dr. Gold thought it would be a good idea. Then Bonnie said that she only eats a piece of toast for breakfast, so Dr. Gold asked if Bonnie could eat lunch with me instead. He called it "modeling" and thought it would be good for me to see adults eating healthy-sized meals. Bonnie sure didn't like that idea. "I give her a 400-calorie chocolate chip cookie on her lunch tray," she practically yelled. "I can't eat that. Besides, I spend my lunch hour exercising." Some nutritionist.
When Dr. Gold came into my room, I asked him why they weren't putting The Tube down Bonnie's throat because of how little she eats. But Dr. Gold said that one of my problems is that I worry too much about what everyone else is doing when I should be focusing on myself. That's why he decided to film me. Dr. Gold wants me to take a good look at myself instead of worrying about what everyone else sees. I told Dr. Gold that I already spend hours looking at myself, which is why I know I'm fat, but he said he feels I'll see myself better in a film.
Dr. Gold explained that they'll be careful to block out my face so I can be used as a "case study" for other doctors to watch. I was thinking about how it means I'm the best dieter at my school, and I'm probably the best dieter in the country, maybe even the world! I mean, I must be, because they want to make a movie of me. I was pretty excited about it, but then I thought that maybe the doctors watching my film would have seen thinner anorexics than me. That's because I remembered the pictures Dr. Katz showed me before I came to the hospital.
The last time I went to Dr. Katz's office, he showed me pictures of all these bony-looking women that had the words "Anorexic, Female" written underneath. The reason they had to write the word "female" is because these women didn't look much like women. They looked more like the big skeleton that hangs in the corner of our science classroom. I always thought there was something wrong with it, because whoever made it put two bones connecting each ankle to each knee, and I was almost positive there was only one bone. I figured the school bought a broken skeleton on sale or something.
In the pictures in Dr. Katz's book, though, I saw that humans really do have two bones right next to each other between the ankle and the knee. I guess Dr. Katz figured that the pictures would scare me into eating, because he kept looking at my face to see if I was getting grossed out. But when I told him how neat it was that humans actually do have two separate bones in the bottoms of our legs, even though it looks like only one, he just blew all this air out of his mouth and said my brain wasn't working right because I'm so malnourished. The truth is, my brain wasn't working right because of his smelly breath.
Anyway, that's why I figured Dr. Gold made a big mistake calling me an "excellent case." I mean, if that's what a real anorexic looks like, I'd be a pretty bad example. So I decided not to eat anything until after the filming tomorrow. Not one bite.
After Dr. Gold left, I was climbing up on the couch to try to look at myself in the window when I noticed Mom standing in my doorway with a bright red Saks shopping bag. I knew right away that she brought my friend Shereen's jeans. Actually, my ex-friend Shereen. Shereen's mom and my mom were pregnant with us at the same time, so we've been friends for life. Except something happened this year. Shereen's mom is French, and all of a sudden Shereen started getting huge French boobs like her mom's. That's when Shereen became one of the popular girls. I haven't really talked to her much lately, but Mom gets a big kick out of talking about what a beautiful body Shereen has. She's always asking why I can't look like Shereen.
Last night on the phone, Mom asked me again why I can't look like Shereen. I told her that I can't look like Shereen because even with those heavy boobs, Shereen weighs less than me. But right after I said it, I knew exactly what Mom was planning on saying, and when she said, "You don't weigh anything anymore," I kind of mouthed it along with her even though she couldn't see me through the phone. "Well, you don't," Mom said, like she really could see me. We have this conversation all the time.
So today Mom brought the jeans to the hospital. I was positive I was right about Shereen being thinner than me. I figured she weighs at least 10 pounds less. So I held in my stomach and pulled the jeans up past my thighs, even though I was sure I wouldn't be able to button them at my waist. But when I closed the last button, I saw Mom staring at me. Except she didn't say anything like, "Why can't you look like Shereen?" this time. Instead she looked down at the floor.
I was happy about the jeans buttoning, but then I looked to where Mom was looking, and that's when I saw the jeans had fallen in a heap around my ankles. Which made no sense. I mean, I'm so much fatter than Shereen. I wondered if the jeans were really Shereen's, or if they were really some fat girl's jeans used to trick me.
I didn't know why the jeans fell off, but I was pretty sure I was still right about Shereen. So I told Mom that since Shereen is two inches taller than me, that's why the jeans were too big. "Oh, please," Mom answered, so I gave her more reasons why the jeans didn't fit. I even said that Shereen's mom uses this laundry detergent that stretches all their clothes, but then Mom stopped saying "Oh, please" for once. She just kept staring at the jeans on the floor.
After Mom left, I kept thinking about Shereen's jeans. I was wondering if it's possible for me to be skinnier than Shereen. It was dark out, so I stood up on the couch and looked in the glass window to check. I could see my collarbone and my ribs, but my stomach still looked fat. Then I checked my butt, which was also fat, and my thighs, which looked okay from the side, and made sure my kneecaps still stuck out. That's when I looked below my knees, and this time I actually saw those two separate bones in the bottom of each leg. I couldn't believe it.
Lori Gottlieb, '89, is a first-year student at the Medical School. Excerpted from Stick Figure by Lori Gottlieb. Copyright © 2000 by Lori Gottlieb. Reprinted by permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
