(Thin Enough Book Excerpt)
…Inevitably though, after a few hours or a few days, my cravings would begin. Of course there was no food anywhere inside my apartment. In the trash dumpster, though, sat many wonderful goodies! Yes, that’s it. I’d simply get the stuff I’d thrown away. I knew that I could find everything I’d thrown out.
Trips to the dumpster at 2:30 a.m. were not unusual. I’d usually make up some excuse to go out (I need to check the mail at 11:45 p.m.). I rummaged through the dumpster. Where was that ice cream I threw out? Where were those cookies? I’d dig through the bag, eating whatever “leftovers” I could on the spot. If I couldn’t find my stuff, I’d rummage through other people’s trash bags. You’d be amazed at what “perfectly good food” people would throw away. Of course, it may have been “perfectly good” at the time it was thrown out. Now, it was garbage. When you’re sick and hungry, though, semantics don’t mean much. I’m still amazed I never experienced food poisoning during these times. I lost count of all of the times I ate runny melted ice cream or frozen yogurt that had been in the dump for days. Luckily, the frigid Minnesota weather refrigerated much of trash I ate.
I was caught on more than one occasion. I’d try to play it off, pretending everything was normal as people passed by me scrounging in the dumpster. As I became more desperate, however, I began going to the dumpster frequently in broad daylight while other students were coming and going from class. I was in full-blown denial as I tried to convince myself I could “just act natural” and disguise the truth. I tried to act like I was rearranging the garbage in the dumpster to make room for the trash I’d just taken out. You know those pesky dumpsters. They’re always so full. Sometimes I tried the “oops, I dropped something in the garbage, and I must fish it out.” I had dropped something all right: my guard, my dignity. How could any excuse explain me chowing down on dinner a la Hefty bag? How would eating a mouthful of tossed-out cookies and crackers help me in my search for my “lost” apartment keys? Sick. But I wasn’t sick—oh, no! I was just getting some fresh air.
I felt so much shame. Shame was one thing when I was by myself. But when someone else’s eyes were watching me, knowing that what I was doing was sick, it was totally different. I was sinking—daily, being pulled further into hell. This was my life now: gluttony, sickness, desperation, fear, hurt, self-hatred, chaos, defeat, and now, discovery. Not exactly the “damage control” I was after. I couldn’t hide any longer from others what I was doing, who I was becoming. It was obvious, and people were noticing now…
