Youth Opinion : ‘I Knew the Story Was About Me’

When I opened the newspaper one recent morning a few months ago, I was shocked to find a story about myself. In my friend’s article in the Times’ Voices page (Community Essay, April 1), she had changed my name to “Jennifer,” for the same reason that here I will call her “Jane.”

Jane had not sounded out my feelings or warned me about publication. But I knew the story was about me. It described an afternoon when we went shopping, and her disgust at the way salespeople praised my thin figure. Jane presented a horrendous picture of my appearance to suggest that I was anorexic. The story suggested that anyone who looked at me would see a sickly freak, except for those who sell clothing to deluded shoppers. I had been acutely aware of my condition, but I was devastated by Jane’s portrayal of it.

Her point, she said, was to condemn the pursuit of unnatural thinness for the sake of fashion. Perhaps unintentionally, Jane was also condemning me for my illness. She was not printing this to help me. At the time, I was in an aggressive therapy program that included regular medical tests, along with meetings with nutritionists and psychiatrists. My greatest motivation was to avoid being hospitalized, which would have forced me to give up school and work. Those were the two aspects of my life that were helping me to achieve my goals and feel confident.

To me, Jane’s story had jeopardized the respect I had at school and at work. We were in the same class at school, worked at the same broadcast station and shared a small group of friends. Jane’s name was at the top of the story, along with her credentials as a journalism student at USC. Calling me “Jennifer” to protect my identity was insincere. Our friends, professors, and co-workers would not have to think hard to associate me and my appearance with Jane’s story.

Jane was aware of my treatment, and my struggle to handle pressure from my parents and close friends. For me, recognizing my illness and seeking help had been a tremendous step. But for my parents, that recognition meant that I should be healthy immediately. Only my doctors understood that full recovery would take time. Jane knew it, yet she wrote a story that in effective accused me of having a demented desire to look like a model.

Fashion had not been on my mind when I began dieting. Already a genetically thin girl, I began an obsessive diet that led to my first diagnosis of anorexia. I’m not sure why it happened, although I know that several aspects of my situation are typical of anorexics. I was living in a boarding-school dormitory with several other young women, half of whom had eating disorders. I was an overachiever, a perfectionist who wanted to please parents with high expectations. Fashion is no more to blame for the fact that I had anorexia than my boarding school friends were, or my parents or me.

At my request, Jane and I talked about the story. I felt that she had violated my trust and friendship. She said that she didn’t intend to blame me, but that she was angry at society in general for revering unhealthy images. The shopping incident was just a personal illustration.

I don’t share Jane’s anger at society for promoting unhealthy bodies. The factors that lead to anorexia are complex and personal. But if society were to blame, then why also blame the victim? Why say hurtful things to me, when I am the supposed victim of society? I’m sure other anorexics felt the same torment reading the article.

People who suffer from eating disorders are persecuted and misunderstood, unlike people in treatment for alcholism, drug addiction or depression, who are lauded for their efforts. Why are those with eating disorders not treated with the same compassion? Besides Jane, my friends and family have been aware of my treatment and struggle to improve., yet they still made frequent and insensitive comments If any one should be placing blame, I should.