A short woman with delicate features and neon orange hair pointed to me and asked, “Did you get your lunch? Did you eat all of it?”
I was surprised at the urgency of her question, but I shook my head and she immediately fetched a lunchbox from the nearby catering table. “Eat this,” she directed me, “and if you’re still hungry, get one of the protein bars. And make sure to drink enough water.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been monitored like this, and I was surprised that, of all places, it would happen at my first professional modeling event. It was a hair show, but still, weren’t they concerned about us fitting into our assigned wardrobe?
Actually, weight gain wasn’t a concern over the course of the weekend, but faint models were. By hiring professional models, the stylists had apparently had trouble before with girls passing out while on stage getting their hair worked on.
I was watching my waistline, but I still ate the full lunch. It’s what I do. Later, I went on stage and stood for almost an hour at a time under hot lights in 6-inch heels while my hair was styled within an inch of its life, but I was fine.
Backstage at that very hair show
As a model, I’ve seen my fair share of weird eating habits. I’ve read articles about size 2 models getting fired for being “too fat” and about France trying to ban the employment of models that aren’t a healthy weight. I’ve been told that as a size 4, I have to choose between losing weight to reach sample size, or gaining weight to reach size 6, which is the runway’s plus-size.
I’ve watched girls I’ve worked with go through an entire day of promotions without a lunch break because they “weren’t hungry” and seen a size 0 girl eat barbecue, hot dogs, tacos, kettle corn, collard greens, chips, and funnel cake all in one afternoon, laughing about how she’s lucky to have a fast metabolism. I’ve watched friends get thinner and thinner, vertebrae and ribs protruding, and been too afraid to say anything until they end up in the hospital.
I always maintained a healthy weight, mostly due to activity. I never came close to wasting away, so I never thought that I could have an eating disorder.
That's me on the right, looking super thin, backstage at a Belk fashion show, 2014
It started the summer between 10th and 11th grade, when I decided to pursue professional acting and modeling, and signed on with my first agency. Though I was a normal size, I was deemed too large to do any type of swimsuit or lingerie modeling (yes, I was a size 4 at the time), so I decided I should slim down a little. I made it a goal to lose between 15 and 20 lbs, and did just that over the summer through exercise and calorie counting.
I didn’t lose the weight in an unhealthy way, but went down to a size 2 and became hyper-focused on my body and eating habits. Everything had to be healthy, but I’m only human, and the guilt I felt if I cheated was crushing. The stress of counting the calories, making measurements and estimates, and saying no to the treats I had previously enjoyed was more than I had expected. Then, as summer ended, I started school and faced even more stressors - college prep classes, play rehearsals, long bus rides with heavy homework burdens to follow, and the fact that I transferred from one school to another that fall.
School and stress: a tougher balancing act than this attempt at yoga
Stress became a part of my daily life, even on days that I had leisure time. Suddenly, counting calories became a stress trigger because I lost my ability to control the numbers. How was I supposed to know how many calories were in this plate of pot roast my mom made for dinner? I began only counting the calories from the prepackaged foods I ate at breakfast and lunch, and told myself that if I kept that number low enough, then I could eat a home-cooked dinner and not have to worry about counting.
As structured as the beginning of my day was, I lost control every night. “Not worrying about counting” turned into “eating as much as I could” because I would be so hungry from how much I had restricted my calories earlier in the day. I fell into a pattern of restriction and bingeing, where every meal that I told myself not to worry about led to crushing guilt afterward.
One of many critical photos I took of myself in high school
This wasn’t anorexia, because I was still eating a lot. This wasn’t bulimia, because I wasn’t purging. This was, as I was just diagnosed this year, Binge Eating Disorder caused by Generalized Anxiety Disorder, with a side of chronic Major Depression. Food had become my biggest stressor and my biggest relief, switching from one to the other in an instant and occupying my thoughts much more than it should have.
At the hair show, as I said, I finished my lunch because that’s what I do. I cleaned my plate at every meal for the past four years, no matter how satisfied my stomach actually was before I finished. I constantly switched from obsessively controlling my food intake to losing control entirely.
One day this past spring, I went to the buffet-style dining hall on campus with my roommate, and predictably, ate much more than I should have. I had been diagnosed and been on medication for the anxiety and depression for several weeks, so they were actually starting to work in my body. The antidepressant could reduce appetite as a side effect, and this had begun to affect me. Still, that day I ignored the signs that my stomach was full and afterward, my meal came back up. I ate myself sick. I was in a state. That was awful! Did this make me bulimic? Why did I do this?
It was awful because I had mistreated my body. I was not bulimic, because vomiting was my body’s response to my overeating, despite my mind willing it not to happen. I did this because I had a problem. Embarrassing as hell, I didn’t know how to stop eating. Even my cats know when to stop, but somehow I couldn’t get up to their level.
Not my cat, but still. Photo credit: my Dad's Facebook page
Since that day, I have been to exactly one buffet, where my mom’s influence (she lost a lot of weight years ago and has since been the queen of healthy eating) kept me from going back for plate after plate. Almost everything I eat now is pre-packed, either with wrappers, tupperware from my meal prep, or naturally in a peel (hello bananas and oranges). I’m slowly teaching myself to listen to my body again. It’s okay to clean a plate if I’ve already portioned out an appropriate amount of food for that meal. I almost always do, but last Friday, I brought home leftovers from a restaurant.
It’s a slow process, and the medication is helping ease the stress of food and control, but I can feel myself getting better at it. I can enjoy beautiful food photography without getting outrageous cravings, and I’ve practiced eating slowly and mindfully enough to enjoy what I’m tasting and register when I’m satisfied. I pay attention to eating healthy foods, but the number of calories isn’t the determining factor anymore.
Confession: I wrote this 2 weeks ago and have been working up the nerve to post it.
Tomorrow, I’ll be modeling at another promotion. I’ll be among other models who may be skinnier than me, may eat more than me, or may eat less. As team lead, I’ll give them breaks and encourage them to get food to keep their energy levels up. Most of all, I’ll be mindful of what disordered eating is, since we need to put our health first. It’s a question that the fashion industry often forgets to ask of it’s most physically active members: Have the models eaten?
xo,
Cecilia