I have thought long and hard about what I would say in this post. I was so excited after this shoot to share the beautiful photographs I had taken of Anjali. After some unthoughtful comments made after posting a few sample photos, I knew I would have to say something different in this blog post.
From the moment she walked into my classroom I knew I wanted to do a session with Anjali. It was like looking at Ann Ward the winner of America’s Next Top Model (cycle 15). After speaking with her mom about my idea, she gave me the thumbs up to do a photo session with her daughter. Over the months before the shoot I have gotten to know more about Anjali other than just being a beautiful young lady. She is going on a volleyball scholarship to Roberts Wesleyan College, in New York in Fall 2013. She explained to me that in the past she had been scouted for modeling but it always ended with them saying she was too tall. At 6’2′ Anjali is too tall for the modeling world, including Ford Models (doesn’t this sound like Ann for cycle 15? Can you tell I watch that show a lot). Anjali, is going to get an education and change this world for the better.
Anjali’s family are all very tall and very thin. Anjali has been the tallest and thinnest girl of those her age since she was in elementary school. She was born this way. She just doesn’t gain weight……..and at over 6 feet…….it makes it even harder. It broke my heart to hear her tell me about all the teasing and bullying she had been the brunt of because of her body.
Somehow people think that it is ok to call her names or ridicule her without knowing anything about her. I wonder if i had photographed a heaver set model, would people have be so brazen as to say they “wow they are pretty but way too fat.” Words based on assumptions do harm. It is wrong prejudging someone who is born with a certain body type be it thin or heavy. People are predisposed to be tall, short, skinny or fat. Anjali is a stunningly beautiful young woman who is smart, talented and completely healthy. I am proud to have had the opportunity to photography her.
I take great personal responsibility with every photograph I publicly post. As someone who suffered from bulimia and anorexia for 15 years I take accusations that I am promoting eating disorders very seriously. Eating Disorders almost killed me and ruined my teen and 20’s. For the last few years I have be penning my story about eating disorders. I have debated if I should go forward with sharing what I went through. By sharing I am exposing my world and open myself for judgement. Even as I type this I am questioning how much I should share about my journey. The excerpts at the end of this post are from chapters I am currently writing.
Anjali this is one of my all time favorite photoshoots! You lit up the camera with your beauty, grace and light. I hope we get a chance to do another shoot before you graduate and go off to college!
Please remember, words do hurt, especially when put in writing. Be careful what you say. Think before you speak. This is something I also need to remember.
Please remember, words do hurt, especially when put in writing. Be careful what you say. Think before you speak. This is something I also need to remember.
“Why did you put Heather on a diet?” I question my coach as I tighten the laces on my ice skate.
“If she drops a few pounds, she will get more height on her jumps.” answers my guru. Everything this woman says I take as the gospel truth. Every action is to please. The ice rink is where I can succeed; this is where I am SOMEBODY; everywhere else I am invisible.
“Do I need to lose weight too? Maybe it will help me do better.” I am willing to do anything, anything to be the best. No sacrifice is too great.
“You’re fine.” My mentor pauses. “For now. Just watch yourself.” I glance at my carton of orange juice, half empty. I throw the remainder in the trash can. Diet! Yes, if I could lose a few pounds, I would be one step closer to perfection. I would be a good girl.
The seed had been planted, one that would grow into a weed in the years to come, that would choke the life out of anything around it. I was only 10 years old.
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It has now been six days and so far not a morsel of food has passed my lips, not even a stick of gum. I will not allow myself the luxury of eating. That would be sinful. My body is in so much pain, but it is good for me. This is strong discipline. DENIAL. Soon I will be perfect. FOOD is beckoning me. It knows its power. Isn’t this what it’s all about, Power?
I am half unconscious trance as the refrigerator hands me a bran muffin and juice. I place a bite of muffin into my mouth. It has no taste. My taste buds are null and void. I take one sip of the golden fruit juice. Oh, how it burns. I can feel it as it flows into my bloodstream.
What have I done? I’ve ruined my impeccable eating record. I have sinned! I can already feel my stomach expanding, I am getting fatter by the second. BAD. Can’t you control yourself? Only THIN is acceptable! I can run it off. Yes, that’s the way to redeem myself, penance for my transgression. I begin my retribution of a five mile jog to counteract my two bites of toxin.
An hour later I stand before the mirror, examining every inch of my body. I can see bones. They protrude like a victim from Auschwitz. Yet I still feel too ample. If only I could disappear completely.
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“Are you sure you weren’t trying to kill yourself? People don’t just swallow 60 laxatives for no reason.” Asks the doctor as he looks over my chart. I am lying in the local Emergency Room. It is 5 a.m. My mother had found me in my room doubled over with pain and rushed me here.
“NO! I swear I didn’t want to die! I was just trying to lose weight.” But I can see that this Medicine man doesn’t understand my drive. To him I am just another neurotic sixteen year old girl.
I glance at my mother beside the hospital bed. She had suspected something was amiss in my psyche. Normal, healthy, teen-age girls do not turn their bedrooms into a shrine with pictures of a dead anorexic singer (Karen Carpenter). She was my inspiration. Who cares that she died. At least she was thin, oh so very thin.
The Southern California myth is that the only way to be SOMEBODY is to be tan, blond, and THIN. Skinny equals success; nothing else tastes quite as sweet. I must cultivate this Barbie doll image, or I am invisible.
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I am now twenty-two years of age. I have had my fifteen minutes of fame, but left it all behind for a higher calling. It was empty. I was only an image. A body without attachments, without any feeling, an effigy unto myself. I have found God. I have found respect for myself, value for who I am inside. I have a mind. I no longer flaunt my body. I now longer crave or need that kind of approval.
“Yes, I am past all that,” I think to myself, as I bend over the toilet of the fast food restaurant and jam my fist down my throat in order to purge the food from within the bowels of my stomach. I can no longer use my own bathroom at home. Everyone believes I am finally on the road to recovery.
Why do I still bow before the porcelain altar and offer up my insides to it? The days of OPERATION BARBIE DOLL are over. Focusing on my body is no longer supposed to be my emphasis in life. I have been educated against such thinking. What is it that drives me to continually kill myself in order to achieve some outrageous standard of beauty? Why do I feel unworthy unless I am THIN? No other accomplishment in my life stands as grand as the thrill I receive when I have lost another two pounds. It’s these private triumphs that reassure me that I am in control, that I count. I understood the reasons I tortured myself in the past, when I depended on my body for acceptance. Why do I do it now?
We are a culture of beauty. Society demands that we crucify our thighs and stomachs in the name of acceptance. Diet has become a woman’s salvation, but it is this search for excellence that can lead to an eating disorder. We strive for perfected beauty, but at what cost? We are a society that is pretty, but sick. Being thin is not worth dying for. The price we are paying is too high!