The nutritional value of Lettuce

By the time I got into high school, I had been in the hospital a bazillion (yes, that's the exact count) times, withstood the adversity that is middle school with relative grace, and went through a lot personal obstacles. So I considered myself kind of a bad ass. I dyed my hair colors not found in nature, an activity I still practice. I listened to Rancid, The Ramones, Saves The Day, and the like religiously. I also made multiple valiant, but as yet unsuccessful, attempts at owning my older brother in skateboarding. I have zero hand-eye coordination and I don't believe I even have a center of gravity, so that was fun. I also had a bit of an eating, or lack thereof, problem. About eighth grade is when girls start eating like birds, and not like the nonchalant gluttons of their youth. I can't remember the exact day that I stopped eating full meals, I don't think eating disorders are something many people set off to do. In my recollection, it started with not drinking pop (soda for the non-midwesterners) anymore. I used to drink it like water (to this day, caffeine is my one addiction, but soda makes my stomach twist). And then it just... happened. Opened itself up from some time bomb DNA particle, and left me in the end, almost 100 lbs and scared of food.

I'd convinced myself that everything had E-coli in it. Especially if it was at a restaurant. I reread one of my old journals recently and I was freaking out about eating a Bagel Bite, ONE Bagel Bite. But, in tradition with everything else in my life, music stepped in. I can't play anything, save Mary Had A Little Lamb on the piano... and even then I get the end messed up. I've had friends crack up laughing at my trying steering wheel drumming, but I love music. New song love, can't stop playing it over and over, feeling yourself crack open somewhere that you can't pin point, true new song love... saved me. I was sitting indian style on the floor of my bedroom, candle lit, the carpet was thick with dust and hair because I didn't believe in cleaning, and "ANA's Song" was playing on the radio. The song is by Silverchair and when I heard the first few lines ...

"Please die, Ana

For as long as you're here, We're not

You make the sound of laughter

And sharpened nails seem softer

And I need you now, somehow"

I cracked open. He knew it, that kid got it, and I knew it. I started with a diet, with a need for some kind of control, and then I lost it and skidded off into that scary unplanned abyss. The thing was, no one else seemed scared at all. A lot of girls at school ate peckishly, and they seemed fine. I however couldn't eat without sitting in my room afterwards, mattress on the floor, with a terrible, anxious stomach, pacing to distract myself. I thought I was the only kid that felt this spiraling away from me until I heard that contrasting voice of Daniel Johns', all raspy, and young, and hungry, saying that he felt the pain it caused just like I did. Thats song became my partner in battle, it was freakin' Patton. It took me years to be ok with eating out, and months to stop my diet of lettuce with salt and pepper, but I did it... me and that song did it.