My Demon's Name is Ed

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My Demon's Name is Ed Page 12

by Danah Khalil


  “What are you at now?” her friend asked.

  “Never mind,” the girl said, jumping off the scale. “I have to get down to 110, and I’m not there yet.”

  “I’m way fatter thank you. I’m at 126. God, why did I get the worst body?”

  I couldn’t stand to hear another word of this idiotic, triggering conversation. I ran out of the change room and I never looked back once, even as Ed called for me to return.

  Are you fucking kidding me, Danah?

  Are you going to let some silly little girls scare you from weighing yourself again?

  GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, YOU WIMP.

  I couldn’t. I was too scared. It was so alarming to see such young girls – neither of whom could be over the age of twelve – obsess about their weight.

  I wanted to say something, I really did, but what could I say?

  “Oh, hey. You know, you really shouldn’t think like that. You might develop an eating disorder just like mine! It is really not much fun, so yeah. Please stop and just enjoy eating while you’re young, okay? Okay. Have a good day.”

  The curiosity regarding my weight is still eating me alive, but after watching a stupid, electronic box cause such anxiety, I knew that I must try my absolute best to avoid weighing myself for a long, long while…until recovery, I guess.

  By the way, when is that coming? I have been waiting patiently for what feels like a decade. When will I get my reward, my trophy, my prize?

  WILL

  I

  EVER?

  October 17, 2014

  I absolutely detest throwing away even the smallest bit of food. Nothing burns me up more than watching my sister eat a single bite before throwing the remainder of her dinner into the trash, or worse still, leaving it out to spoil. She does this constantly, even though she is well aware of how infuriating it is. I am lucky to be well-off in a blessed country, where I am always confident that I will come home to find food in the fridge. We all know that many others don’t share the same good fortune…. And yet, we don’t care.

  “What does it matter if I waste a bit every now and then…?” my sister scoffs. “You are not the damn food police, Danah.”

  “It is the principle of the thing. Just don’t put so much on your plate. It’s as simple as that. Imagine how grateful a starving child would be for a fraction of the portion that is now – and will forever be – in the trash.”

  I am not trying to “save the world” by any means, or be the “damn food police,” but it just isn’t fair. It is not fair to the individual who cooked the food, nor is it fair to the individuals who would do anything just to have a bite of it.

  October 31, 2014

  Ed struck again on this dreary Halloween, as all of my friends went home from school to indulge in candy and cake, while I created some bogus excuse as to why I wouldn’t be able to meet up with them until later in the evening.

  Why haven’t I left yet? Well, I had to walk very quickly from home to be at the gym for 3:45–5:00, then return home and do yoga from 5:20–5:50, then eat dinner from 5:50–6:00 because chances are they were all eating gross pepperoni pizza by this time, like a bunch of barbarians. Finally, I had to shower, get ready, and rant in my journal, which I am currently doing.

  It isn’t a huge deal that I’m missing a couple of hours of watching horror movies and eating junk food, but sometimes I really do wish that Ed would not always be the reason I arrive late for, or completely miss, outings with my friends.

  Anyway, I should probably head off now before they get too curious about where I am.

  November 4, 2014

  I have been thinking that maybe if I were to go away for university in two years, it would be far easier to adopt a vegan lifestyle. After all, I wouldn’t have my parents constantly breathing down my neck and watching my every move and my every meal. Then again, I wouldn’t have their money or support, either.

  Wait one second…. Would I really allow Ed to affect my crucial decision about what university I should choose?

  This is not by any means a long-term relationship, Ed. If you think you are planning on following me to university, think again.

  And if you think that you are getting rid of me any time soon, YOU think again.

  November 6, 2014

  I don’t understand why sometimes, I absolutely regret eating fat-free meals especially on days when I work out more than usual or when my growling stomach indicates that I should have eaten more. Then on other days, I scold myself for not having eaten fat-free. Take today, for example. Just five minutes ago, I was convinced that what I ate was fine for the day, and that it wouldn’t change my weight or health or body. But now, Ed has forced me to think otherwise.

  Yeah, maybe because you have just spent the past few minutes gobbling bowls of sticky rice and eight pieces of salmon sashimi.

  What is wrong with you?

  Have you no control?

  Fuck. Is Ed right?

  Am I ever wrong?

  Why didn’t I just eat a fat-free breakfast and lunch today when I knew that I would have to eat out tonight for dinner? I can feel every single piece of fatty fish and every damn grain of buttery rice sitting in my stomach, and I feel sick and anxious and disappointed and scared.

  None of this would matter if I’d eaten fruit and a salad, instead of fucking peanut-butter baked oatmeal for breakfast and pasta for lunch. Why did I put myself in this situation? Now, I have to go home and do my emergency workout of 500 total reps of neck tugs, push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and calf raises.

  Don’t forget you still have yoga practice to do.

  Fuck my life.

  November 13, 2014

  I am out of control again.

  The proof?

  The rush of tears angrily pouring from my eyes; the temper tantrum that just occurred downstairs in the kitchen; the stomping of feet and unnecessary slamming of doors.

  But I don’t care.

  I do not give a fuck.

  All I wanted to do was eat an early dinner but my mom is making me wait.

  What the fuck for?

  Fuck you, Mom!

  I want to eat the leftovers because I AM FUCKING HUNGRY.

  I spent all night and day with Grandma so why the fuck must I wait for her NOW?

  She won’t mind!

  And even if she does, I do not fucking care because I AM HUNGRY AND I WANT TO EAT NOW!

  I ate an early lunch, and I have been looking forward to these leftovers all day.

  Now I can’t eat for another fucking hour.

  And no, Mom, I will not just have a snack, so fuck you.

  And fuck you because I do not want to walk the dog with you right now.

  Stop playing nice just because you acted like a bitch.

  November 13, 2014

  I am disgusted by my words and actions earlier this evening….

  Ed,

  What

  Are

  You

  Doing

  To

  Me?

  I am only doing what is best, baby.

  November 19, 2014

  Recently, I have become obsessed with the notion of volunteering abroad in India or Thailand. While doing volunteer work in developing countries has been a dream of mine for a couple of years now, I think that the real reason I have chosen these two destinations may be my passion for reading the blogs of famous vegans who eat delicious, healthy food and partake in spiritual yoga classes there.

  Nevertheless, my desire to participate in one of these volunteer trips is growing stronger by the day. I spend hours online researching the dates, costs, and benefits of each potential trip. I plan to speak to Mother about it, but first I have to be extremely well-prepared if I am to convince this stubborn, cheap woman to allow me such a life-changing journey.

  November 27
, 2014

  I am so sneaky and so very smart. Every night upon returning home from practice, I notice my parents eyeing me as I scan the fridge and cupboard; they want to see me snack. Fine, I think to myself, I will snack.

  But that is a big fat lie.

  I reach into the cupboard for a granola bar and do my best to look as though I intend to eat it. I stroll up to my room and even crinkle the wrapper a couple of times to make them think I’m opening it. Next, with a sinister smile on my face, I tuck it away – along with many other pieces of hidden food – in my bedroom closet.

  Maybe one day, I really will snack after practice – you know, to refuel and all – but realistically, my practices aren’t nearly intense and physically demanding enough to require refueling. Besides, I am normally still full from my huge dinner, I swear!

  I’m afraid that someone will discover my secret stash of granola bars and food, just as someone is bound to discover just how fucked up and wicked I truly am.

  Yes, you are wicked and sneaky and so very smart.

  I could not be more proud of you right now.

  December 1, 2014

  I am so fucking tired of chasing the same oblivious, absentminded, handsome, kind, intelligent, humorous, athletic guy that I have been after for almost two whole years now. When will I realize that he does not want me?

  When will you realize that no one ever will?

  There is far too much wrong with you.

  I mean, just LOOK at yourself.

  Ed is right, on this one. No one will ever want a girl like me. The second I even think I have the guy interested, I pull back as quickly as possible. My fear and insecurities stand in the way of ever developing anything remotely serious. I am a tease. I am a chicken. I ask myself, what there is to be afraid of. Sure, if I had a bit more experience in this department, there wouldn’t be an issue. But the reality is that the longer it takes to get this experience, the farther behind I become, and the more afraid I am.

  December 7, 2014

  For the past month or so, I have been attending writing classes taught by a professional author at my local library. Since I aspire to be an author, this opportunity couldn’t be any more exciting. But when the class was instructed to write and polish a piece by the end of the course, I really didn’t know what I could offer…. Until, that is, I rediscovered my diaries from two years ago.

  The words were painful to read and type – and yes, they were even triggering – but I knew that it was the only work I could show, because it’s truthfully my best work. It is real. It is raw. It is frightening.

  The class seems to agree, but more importantly, the teacher agrees. She sees “potential” in me, and hearing this is something I could never have dreamed of. She even offered to take me under her wing and asked if I would consider having my diaries published. I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but am I ready for the exposure if it really happens? Would I hide behind a pseudonym, or would I come out to the world about my struggles? I can only imagine how embarrassing it would be for my friends and family to discover exactly what goes on in this screwed up brain of mine, but I can also imagine how many struggling youths like me that I might be able to help. If they could find similarities between their current state and mine, then perhaps they would seek help before it’s too late.

  Oh, you want to go save the world now, eh?

  Give me a fucking break.

  But isn’t that what writing is all about, helping and inspiring others? I really do think I have an incredible shot to finally do something with my life…. Will my selfishness and fears stand in the way? Do I lay everything out on the table for anyone and everyone to read?

  December 10, 2014

  I am so fucking STRONG and HAPPY and PROUD right now. I just held plank for eight minutes straight.

  Next step?

  Shoot for ten minutes.

  I will reach that goal.

  And I will not give Ed the credit.

  December 12, 2014

  I do not think anyone will ever understand the amount of planning that goes into my food and exercise routine every week. Although I no longer write down exactly what I am going to consume on a regular basis, I create a mental list so that everything comes together. I have to stay alert and flexible. If plans change, I must compensate. If I eat too much or exercise too little on any given day, I adjust my requirements to fit. The process is both stimulating and exhausting.

  Certainly, I am aware that this is not normal for most people, but it’s normal for me. Frankly, I am happy living this way. And no one can tell me otherwise.

  I completely agree.

  Looks like we are finally seeing eye-to-eye.

  December 18, 2014

  My school volleyball season has finally begun, and while I am grateful for the additional practice to help me improve on my club team—

  And while I am grateful for the additional exercise to help improve your physique…

  …I am also extremely nervous to represent my school and play in front of my fellow students. I know I definitely should not be nervous, since I am one of only three teammates with club experience. But I think that is part of the problem; I constantly expect far too much of myself, thus stressing out and playing like horseshit. It is evident that I am the weakest of the three club players too. I suck at sports, so I really do have to step it up and impress my peers and satisfy myself every time I set foot on that court. I admit that I have made some big improvements in my game, but my defense is the issue. My placement and form are often perfect, yet the ball goes flying. You see? This is why I should quit sports.

  December 23, 2014

  “What are you writing?” Dad asks, as he enters my bedroom. I quickly shut my notebook and tuck it under the covers, but just as quickly I regret it. I have only sharpened his curiosity about just what it is I am writing.

  “I’m working on a manuscript for my writing course,” I reply, silently praying that he doesn’t poke and prod for details.

  “Wow, a manuscript! What’s it about?”

  Fuck. Seriously?

  “I, uh, don’t really like to talk about my writing…. I guess I’m shy, but you can read it later on, if you like.”

  “Sure, I would love to,” he says, giving me a suspicious look and turning to leave.

  Fuck.

  He knows.

  How could he not know?

  Now he is going to go tell Mom that I am writing about my disorder and they will think I am sick again and they will be even more distrustful of me.

  Fuck.

  I fucked up.

  What have I done?

  December 24, 2014

  The mirror’s truth slapped me in the face this morning, as I stared at my ass. I braced myself for the personal attack, as my self-esteem took a plunge.

  It is so saggy.

  Why is it not firmer?

  But I work out all the time!

  Will it ever be plump and desirable?

  I could have sworn it was not like this yesterday…

  No one will ever want me when I look like this.

  Since when am I embarrassed by my body?

  I thought I was attractive and fit.

  Is Ed controlling my thoughts again?

  You know it, baby.

  December 25, 2014

  To save myself from the agony and punishment that would have followed, I did not eat a slice of cake today at Christmas dinner. This time, I ignored the eye rolls and the disappointed expression on Mother’s face.

  Smart choice.

  December 31, 2014

  Alcohol is a dirty, dirty bitch. I can’t stand to feel so out of control, just as I can’t stand the thought of every single dirty calorie sliding down my throat with every shot. It is no secret that hard vodka and sugary coolers are loaded, but the social pressure to drink and
to party manages to suppress the knowledge. I must fit in, after all. I cannot hide in my goddamn hole forever.

  That’s what you think.

  *****

  January 2, 2015

  Everyone knows that the New Year brings resolutions. I am prepared for the bullshit goals that follow – mostly from my mother and sister – about “losing weight” and “eating better” and “exercising more.” Yes, the beginning of the year is especially hard on me, as everyone plays right into social media’s trap. It’s only two days into 2015, and I have already seen countless commercials for weight-loss products.

  When you think about it, the messages and conflicting headlines in magazines are quite comical.

  “Lose Thirty Pounds in Just Three Weeks!”

  “Learn to Love Yourself and Your Body!”

  “The Ultimate Best Chocolate Cake Recipe!”

  “My Eating Disorder Story Revealed!”

  “Fitness Secrets From a Movie Star!”

  “My Weight Gain Explanation!”

  Am I the only one who can see how ridiculous this is?

  I, for one, am making it my personal goal to balance all the aspects of my life, focusing on the delicate dance between my food and exercise, of course. Am I trying to lose weight? Absolutely not. Am I trying to gain it? No. I must find the power to maintain, and I must have the confidence to indulge, or take a rest day now and then without believing it will have a disastrous effect on my weight and health.

  Rest day?

  Indulgence?

  That’s what you think.

  A new year means a new you!

  Time to lose a few pounds again.

  Yes, I hear Ed loud and clear in the back of my mind, but his words mean nothing to me today. I am confident that my system will continue to work well for my body: three large, yet “clean” meals, paired with an hour of personal workouts and a half-hour of yoga daily. I eat a lot, so I exercise a lot.

 

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