Reviving Ophelia - Mary Bray Pipher [90]
Bulimic young women have lost their true selves. In their eagerness to please, they have developed an addiction that destroys their central core. They have sold their souls in an attempt to have the perfect body. They have a long road back.
PRUDENCE (16)
Prudence and her mother came to my office one sunny winter afternoon. Mary was a plump, middle-aged lady dressed in a stylish red wool suit with a fur collar. Prudence, also plump, wore blue jeans, a faded sweatshirt and Birkenstocks.
Prudence told me that she started bingeing three years ago and now binged twice a day, sometimes three times. She described her binge episodes as a kind of craziness when she fell into a trance and inhaled whatever was around. Her preferred foods were breads, cereals and graham crackers, but she ate anything. “Once I lose control, I’ll eat whatever I can find.”
Mary added, “We tried locking up the food, but Prudence bashed open the pantry with a hammer. When she wants to binge, there is no stopping her.”
Prudence said, “I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t.”
Mary said that Prudence never ate normally. If she wasn’t bingeing, she was starving herself. She said, “She’s always on a diet. She won’t eat anything except when she binges.”
Prudence said, “I want to lose weight, but I can’t. I weigh more now than ever.”
“This is all my fault.” Mary sighed. “I’m always on diets.”
I asked about the family. Mary worked at the telephone company, as did her husband. In fact, they met there eighteen years ago. Mary said, “I’m definitely not one of those modern women who stands up for herself. I have a hard time saying what’s on my mind.”
“She’s the family servant,” Prudence said. “She lets Dad push her around and apologizes for any mistake she makes. She needs to get a life.”
I was struck, as I often am, by how closely daughters observe their mothers and by how strongly they feel about their mothers’ behavior. Prudence described her father as a good provider, but quiet. Mary put it this way: “Prudence means the world to him, but he doesn’t have much to say to her. He’s not the type to show his feelings.”
“Are there other children in the family?”
Suddenly the tone of the interview changed. Mary sighed and Prudence bit her lip. Mary said, “Prudence’s older brother was killed three years ago in a car accident.”
“I don’t want to talk about Greg,” Prudence said.
I looked at the two frozen-faced women. I suspected that the family had hardly discussed Greg’s death and that most of their grieving was still ahead of them. I knew this work needed to be done, but not in this first session.
Instead we talked about Prudence’s school, which was in the wealthiest part of town. The population was suburban and homogenous. Most of the girls had designer clothes, straight white teeth and beautiful hair. Hardly any girls were even chubby. Nobody even wore glasses. It was a breeding ground for eating disorders.
Prudence laughed. “When I first went there, all the girls looked alike to me. It took a while to learn to tell them apart.”
She gestured toward her somewhat unconventional outfit and said, “I refuse to play the designer-clothes game. I’m not a Barbie doll. I’m embarrassed to have bulimia. It’s such a preppy disease.”
The next time I saw Prudence I asked to see a picture of Greg. She pulled out her billfold and showed me his senior-class picture. “Greg wasn’t like most brothers. He was my best friend. He didn’t mind having me around, even when his buddies were over. He gave me advice and protected me. The worst thing Greg could say was that he was disappointed in me. That would shape me up fast. He got on my case if I made Bs. He taught me to pitch and to ice-skate.”
I asked, “How was he killed?”
Prudence bit her bottom lip. “He was out with friends after the state basketball tournament. I knew he would be drinking but I wasn’t worried. He explained to me that the group had a designated driver. But that night their designated driver was drunk. He hit a bridge outside of town. He wasn’t hurt, but Greg died instantly.”
She told me about