Chapter 3: “You become what you think about all day long.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

The blond girl stood still in the middle of the room. She waited as her mother held the pieces of fabric up to her body. This was a process the blond girl was familiar with as her mother, a wonderful seamstress, had often sewn clothing for the blond girl and her sisters. Today was the day that a new jumper was being made for her to wear to church. Her mother even let her help pick out the fabric. 

"Oh no!" her mother exclaimed as she was fitting the pieces on the blond girl. "I must have cut it out wrong."

The blond girl looked to her left side where her mother was fidgeting with the fabric. She instantly noticed what had worried her mother. There was no way that the two pieces were going to fit around her body. Her mother began making suggestions of how to remedy the problem, but she couldn't figure out what to do. 

A relative witnessing the disaster came to try and help, but once she saw the hopelessness of the situation decided to dissuade the blond girls mother from continuing by pointing out the real problem. 

"It's no use Vickie, her hips are just too big."

The problem wasn't the fabric being cut incorrectly, the problem was her ugly body. The blond girl instantly clenched her jaw and blinked several times to try and prevent herself from crying.

February 24, 2004

I can't complain about today. Nothing really interesting happened. Except when Joseph came up to me and told me how good I looked. I didn't know what to say to him because I thought I looked horrible. I've decided I'm going to wear sweatshirts until I get back down to a better size.

It had been a month since starting my diet and I had gone down four pant sizes. I was still overly concerned about the weight I had gained over the weekend as I woke up that morning to start the Power 90 workout. It felt good to exercise and feel like I was burning away all the extra weight. The panic from the night before began to subside once I had finished the workout. Walking into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day, I noticed my reflection and began my usual routine of criticizing and measuring my body. Starting with my stomach and then moving to my hips and thighs, my hands would pull at the fat to see if there was more or less than the day before. I would measure my thighs, upper arms, and wrists by wrapping my hands or fingers around them and see if they felt any smaller. I would stare at myself posing in different directions, hoping that I would somehow be able to see a change in my body that I hadn't noticed before. The panic, that had only a few moments before been lessened, began to return the longer I stood in front of that mirror.

You've gotten bigger! Look at all of the fat rolls! You look awful. How do you even dare face people every day. You shouldn't leave the house today. You look fifty pounds heavier than you did last week. People don't want to look at you. Are your clothes even going to fit today? Even if you get your pants buttoned you'll have fat hanging over the sides because they'll be too tight. You'll look disgusting. Nobody wants to have to look at you. You are so ugly.

I tried to calm my thoughts by telling myself it would be ok because I was going to be able to get back to my normal eating habits and workout more, but the thoughts stuck with me. I weighed myself  with my clothes on, weighed myself with my clothes off, went to the bathroom, weighed myself again, showered, and weighed myself. I wanted to know exactly how much I weighed and what the difference in weight would be after each different circumstance. Each time I weighed myself I hoped and prayed that somehow the number would magically go down. By the time I left the house, I was so worked up and my thoughts so out of control that I felt trapped inside my head, unable to think about anything besides how fat and ugly I was. It was as if a battle was raging inside my head between the thoughts telling me how horrible I looked and the thoughts trying to calm everything down by saying it was ok because I wasn't going to eat as much today. It was the only way I could find the courage to be around people.

Concentrating in class was almost impossible. I tried to get myself to focus on what was being taught, but I could only focus on what was going on in my head. I began distracting myself by trying to calculate how much weight I could lose by the end of the week if I diligently stuck to my 100 calories a day and did Power 90 every morning. I would then begin to think about how many pounds I would have to lose before I could go down another pant size and how long that would take. Before I knew it, I had gone through all of my college classes for the day and had somehow ended up in Choralaires, but I had done nothing but get more and more lost in my own thoughts.

"ShaRee, you are looking so great!"

Choralaires had finished and I walked up to Chris to say hi. I was caught off guard by the comment from Joseph. He and Chris were good friends, but he had never really said anything to me. I spent most of my time in that class keeping to myself and trying to avoid bringing attention to myself. I didn't even know he really knew my name until he gave me this compliment.

"Um, thanks." I replied with an embarrassed smile.

I had never been good at accepting compliments. This day was especially difficult because I knew he had to be making fun of me. I had thoroughly inspected my body that morning and knew that I did not look good.

"Seriously, you look amazing!"

I gave a nervous laugh and thanked him again. I kept thinking that hopefully I would be able to lose ten pounds by the following week. It was such a foreign feeling to have someone give me a compliment about how good I looked, but I found that it was a feeling that was much more enjoyable than I had anticipated.  It was enough of a good moment to get me out of my head. I went home, went to the bathroom, weighed myself with my clothes on, weighed myself with my clothes off, got dressed and fixed a small serving of plain, steamed broccoli.

The next week was the same routine: wake up at 5:00, do Power 90, measure and criticize my body, the thoughts begin, go to the bathroom, weigh myself with clothes on and off, shower, weigh myself, go to school, not learn a thing because I was so focused on losing weight and how awful I looked, go home, go to the bathroom, weigh myself, eat a small serving of vegetables or black beans, weigh myself, lie on my bed and think about losing weight until the day was over, pray that I would lose more weight, and go to bed. It's all I could get myself to do. The days started running together.



"I'm just going to make an appointment for you at the counseling center. It's not a big deal. I just think it would be good for you to have someone help you figure out if going into music is what you really want to do."

Dr. Joines had become worried about me after I called myself stupid when I was unable to understand or answer a question in my music theory class.

"Chris, I don't want to go to therapy!"

"I know, but maybe this will actually be a good thing."

I had gone to Dr. Joines' office at his request where he spoke about his concern for me. He noticed I hadn't been myself lately and calling myself stupid had been frustrating for him to hear. He had lectured me about the need to have more confidence in myself and my abilities.

"He's not wrong. I've been telling you the same thing for a while now." Chris gave me a look of concern, but also showed slight amusement at how angry I was over the thought of going to therapy.

"I know I need more confidence, but just telling me to get more confidence isn't going to make that happen. And why would going to therapy be a good thing? Isn't therapy for crazy people?!"

"Yes, but it's also for people who just need to talk through problems. ShaRee, I think that you've maybe been going overboard with the dieting and exercising. You've lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time. It might be good to just talk with a therapist about it and see what he thinks."

"What are you saying? That you think I have some sort of an eating disorder?" I laughed. I knew he was joking. People with eating disorders didn't look like me. I was still so huge. "Yeah right. Like that's possible! I'm still eating and I haven't lost that much weight."

I had gone down two more pant sizes and had gone from eating 100 calories a day to eating a piece of grilled chicken every two days.  I was also doing the workout DVD twice a day.

"I don't want to go! I'm not going. I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to him."

"I'll come with you. I really feel like you need to go. I want you to go. Let's just see what he has to say about your eating." Chris said, all amusement gone from his face.


The counseling center at the college was smaller than I had expected. Chris led the way and walked with me to the reception desk. The receptionist was pleasant as I explained about this being my first time in. After completing the necessary paperwork, I sat nervously waiting for the appointment to begin. I was contemplating running out of the room when a man walked around the corner and called my name. I apprehensively stood and gave a look to Chris to let him know that I still didn't want to be doing this. I followed the man back to his office where he motioned for me to sit down.

"So, what made you decide to come in today?"

Dr. Johnson was a handsome man and as we started the conversation he gave me a pleasant smile.

"Um, well, one of my teachers wants me to talk to someone about making sure that my life is heading in a direction that will make me happy and my friend wants me to talk to someone because he's worried about my eating habits."

He gave me a confused look. "Why does everyone else want you to be doing these things?"

I shrugged. My foot was constantly shaking. I didn't know what to think, do, or say.

"Well, tell me about your eating."

I began to explain to him about the challenge and how I had started to lose weight. He would abruptly cut me off and ask a question here or there and then let me continue. The feeling in the room started to feel strange and I could feel myself shutting down the longer we talked.

"Do you just need attention?" he impatiently asked.

"What?"

"Do you need attention? Is that why you're doing this?" He was giving me a look like he had caught me in my scheme.

"What? No! I'm not someone who likes a lot of attention on them. I'll admit that some of the comments about how good I look or praise about how hard I must be working to lose all the weight makes me feel good, but I'm just trying to lose weight. That's all."

He immediately popped up and grabbed a large book off a shelf and flipped to a page.

"Is this what you want to look like?"

He almost sounded angry as he flipped the book around to show me a picture of an emaciated woman dressed in nothing but her underwear. She had a vacant look on her face, like she wasn't aware of her surroundings. I could see every bone on her body and noticed the way her cheeks and eyes sunk inward. Nothing about her frail body was what I was trying to achieve by losing weight.

"No, of course I....."

"Well, that's what you will look like if you keep doing this!" he emphatically stated, cutting me off as he threw the book on his desk and moved to a different chair. "Who's the guy that was sitting with you in the waiting area?"

"His name is Chris. He's a friend." I felt defeated. I wanted to get out of the room more than anything.

"I want to ask him some questions. Do I have your permission to invite him in?"

I gave him a questioning glance and then slowly nodded my head. Why did he need to ask Chris questions? He left the room and I sat in disbelief and confusion. I felt like the conversation had taken off and gotten out of hand without me actually being involved or included in it. Questions had been asked and accusations hurled at me before I even knew how to adequately explain myself. I began to worry that I was even more of a horrible person than I had thought. Was I really the awful person he was accusing me of being? Was I just some stupid girl needing attention? I knew I hated attention. I was struggling with school and I really wanted to lose weight and succeed at my challenge, but I didn't feel like I was trying to get people to notice me by doing it. I didn't know what was happening and before I could really figure anything out, Dr. Johnson was back with Chris close behind. As he interrogated Chris, I stared at the floor and listened to what was being asked and said about me. I didn't know how to react to anything and wondered why so many people continued therapy when it felt more like a trial. Chris answered the questions the same way that I answered them and then proceeded to add why he was worried about me. Dr. Johnson told him not to worry. I didn't have an eating disorder, but there were some things that he wanted to work on with me. I was ushered out of the room, had the next weeks appointment scheduled, and was on my way back to the apartment with Chris before I started to feel like I could speak again. We both started to laugh as Chris pointed out how blunt Dr. Johnson had been.

"At least we know that I don't have an eating disorder. I told you there was nothing wrong with the way I've been eating."

The more we discussed the session and joked about the way in which the conversation had gotten so strange so quickly, the better I felt. I was just glad that I had another person there to witness it and share in the experience.

Everyone still thinks you're so fat. You need to lose more weight. Look at how big you are. You aren't getting any smaller. You're never going to look good. Why don't you try harder. You're so lazy. Do you see all the fat rolls?! Look at how many there are! You need to find a way to get rid of them. You are so fat. The only thing people see when they look at you is your fat body. You need to lose the weight faster. The only way to feel better is to lose the weight. You are so ugly. No one can stand to look at you. 

"What have you been doing? You're starting to look so good! You've inspired me to start trying to get in shape."

See, they only think you are worth looking at when you are losing weight. They all thought you were so hideous and disgusting, but when you lose weight they think you aren't completely worthless. You can't be this big anymore. You have to lose weight. You are only worth anything if you can get smaller. You aren't pretty unless you are thin. Why are you still overweight?! It doesn't look like you are any thinner. You need to lose two pounds by tomorrow. Why aren't you fixing this fast enough? You are so gross. Why can't you be prettier?

My days were measured by weigh-ins and work outs. Life stopped being experiences. It was images and comments. It was reactions and thoughts. The battle inside my head was where I spent most of my energy and time.

Why aren't you losing the weight faster!? You are so ugly. Don't you see how disgusting you are?

It's ok. I'll only have a piece of chicken once a week. If I only eat that it'll be ok. I'm only going to have one piece of chicken a week. I'll lose more weight that way. It'll be ok.

"What bra size do you wear?"

I looked at him unable to answer. I could feel myself squirming. "I......"

"Come stand in front of me. I need to see how your clothes are fitting on you to see how much weight you've lost."

So many questions were going through my mind. Was this necessary? Did he not believe me when I told him how much weight I'd lost last week? I stood in the middle of the room and he moved his chair over until he was sitting in front of me.

"What bra size do you wear?"

I reluctantly answered the personal question.

"Have you gone down a cup size at all?"

Where was this going? Was this really how therapy worked? I answered all of his questions and then began following his instructions about pulling my shirt tight around my body or pulling my loose jeans away from my body. I stared at the wall as Dr. Johnson gazed at me and examined my body.

He's probably thinking how disgusting you look. He hates you and thinks you are just some stupid teenager looking for attention. He thinks you look fat and need to lose weight. Why did you even come back to see him? He knows you're a bad person. He can see how horrible you are. He only wants to see your body so he can tell you how ugly you are.

I snapped out of my thoughts as he pulled the waist of my jeans tight around my hips. My face scrunched into a look of discomfort as I felt his hands around my ribs pulling my shirt tight and revealing my body shape.

"It looks like you've lost weight since last week. You know what? You should get out more and be around people. Why don't you go to the gym on campus? Maybe do a little weight training."

He only wants you to go the gym because you need to lose more weight. He can see how big you are and can feel how fat you are. You need to work harder. He thinks you're so lazy. You need to work out more. You're still eating too much. Don't you feel disgusting when you eat? Everyone else thinks you're so disgusting. 

In addition to doing the exercise video twice a day, I was now going to the gym for an hour or more a day. Chris would often go with me and began helping me with weight training.

"ShaRee, is there something going on that is making it harder for you to sing? You just seem like you don't have a lot of energy."

"I've just been exhausted from school. I'll try and rest more."

My voice teacher had started to notice that my voice was struggling. I gave her my excuse, but the truth was that when I wasn't obsessing about exercise, weight, and eating, I was sleeping. I had even started sleeping through classes. When I would come home from school in the afternoon, I would weigh myself and then stumble to my bedroom and collapse on the bed. I was so tired all the time and couldn't get enough sleep.

I need to start eating before voice lessons so I have more energy.

You can't have more than the piece of chicken a week. You will gain weight and become even uglier than you are now. You are such a pig. Why would you want to eat so much? You can't be serious about eating more. You look awful. Do you want to be this ugly your whole life? You still have so much weight to lose. 

It's ok. I'll only eat an apple. I'll stop having chicken. It's too fattening. I'll eat an apple before I have to sing. That way I'll have energy to sing, but I can still lose weight. An apple is better anyway. It's healthier than the piece of chicken. 

"Losing weight is a good thing, just make sure that you are eating the right things and exercising. You know, even jogging in place for fifteen minutes can make all the difference. You could even try doing simple exercises like crunches and sit-ups or squats every night. Just that little bit is so healthy." The well meaning teacher was trying to encourage me to lose weight in a healthy way, but all I could focus on was that I needed to lose weight.

He thinks you're so fat and wants you to lose weight. It doesn't even look like you're working out. You are still so fat. You need to do more. Everyone can still see how ugly you are. Why can't you do anything right? You aren't working hard enough and everyone can tell. You are so fat and lazy. You should work out more. You are so ugly.

I'll start jogging for fifteen minutes every night. I'll do 300 crunches every night in addition to the 200 I've been doing with the DVD. I'll add some pilates, squats, leg lifts. I'll do it every night. It'll be ok. I'll work harder. I have to work harder. I'll do more. It'll be ok.

Dr. Johnson continued to measure me by pulling my clothes tight around my thighs, hips, waists, arms, and bust. Every week I would stand in front of him as he inspected my body nearly as thoroughly as I inspected it each day. It became a motivator for me to push myself harder to lose weight. I didn't want to go in there and have him tell me I didn't look like I'd lost any weight.

So many people kept giving me compliments on how good I looked not knowing that with each comment came a flood of negative thoughts telling me how I was worthless and ugly. I was receiving more attention from people, but I was secluding myself more than I ever had in my life. I tried convincing myself that I was looking better than I ever had, but I became increasingly more self conscious of the way I looked.

My voice was struggling, my grades were slipping, I slept all the time. Each day was the same schedule of working out, weighing myself 15-20 times, obsessively thinking about food while being terrified to eat any of it, and getting further lost in a sea of negative thoughts and mental abuse. The weight continued to drop as those days turned into weeks, weeks into months.


The blond young woman lay in her bed unable to fall asleep. This was unusual for her as she had been spending much of her spare time being exhausted and finding any free minute she could spare to sleep. She pulled her covers up around her shivering body and rolled onto her stomach. She winced and tried to adjust her body as the pain from her hip bones pushing against the mattress caught her off guard. A smile spread across her face at the thought of bones showing instead of fat. Several hours passed with the blond young woman tossing and turning, thinking about how she could lose more weight and the possibility of becoming thin and beautiful. The smile faded as her thoughts took over. Now lying on her side, legs pulled up close to her chest, the blond young woman stared into the dark room and whispered, "When will I stop being ugly."