Regurgitated Success, 2007, by Kevin Lester Lewis Jr.

From MemoryArchive

Who: Kevin Lewis Jr.
What: Bulimia and Self Mutilation
When: Middle School 
Where: North Carolina

“Kevin, if you continue to lose weight we’re going to have to hospitalize you,” said Jeff, my first therapist who I have had since I moved here in 6th grade. He didn’t start shrinking me until my 7th year in school.

“What are you talking about?!?...” I began to explain. “...how can you hospitalize someone for losing weight? Haven’t you ever heard of a diet?”

“Kevin, starving yourself is not a diet; it's an illness,” Jeff conveyed.

I snapped at him: “An illness? What do you mean it’s a freaking illness? Muslims do it all the time.” Which was an excuse I used to justify the ‘diet’ quite often. Jeff responded like most people did or sometimes still do.

“Kevin, (Jeff sucks his teeth) that is for religious reasons. But I’ll tell your mom to call me if anything comes up. I’ll see you in 2 weeks unless something comes up."

I always considered him weird. I think he was just like the others. Lying to me and telling me I’m thin. But inside they all knew I was fat. I wouldn’t be surprised if they mistook me for an elephant that had just recently consumed 800 rhinos. I try to pretend I’m tired so I won’t have to hear my mom begging for me to eat. I don’t deserve to eat. No one this fat deserves to eat. I hurry home and hop in the bed. Dreaming of a thinner body. I wonder how much I weighed. Thanks to Dr. Zieglar, my mom hid the scale. “Just let me get back down to 92 pounds,” I would beg myself. Or was I asking someone greater than myself?

The next morning was Saturday. I wake up to the sound of my 2 yr old nephew playing with anything he can get his hands on. While he continues to play with the things inside my room I am steadily sleeping in. My brother and his fiancé took turns putting their hands around my wrists. 7 minutes later my mom came upstairs with an angry expression on her face. She scared the fat out of me! Sike.... just kidding. I wish it was that easy. She had a lump sum of cash money in her hand. Her facial expression told to me already that she demanded an explanation. “Kevin, tell me why your lunch money for the past 3 weeks was in your back pocket ?!?”

“Oh~gosh” I sighed.

She'd seen me in my underwear and told me that I looked like a holocaust victim. I'd do anything to be thin.

The next day I don’t know what happened. I just lost control. I came home from school just like I normally do. No one was home. I felt incredibly hungry but I usually loved that feeling. I crept in to the pantry and ate about 9 servings of gold fish, 2 poptarts, a slice of pizza, and a class of strawberry milk. All stuff I knew I wasn’t suppose to eat. I usually called this, ‘bad food’.

Although it was bad it tasted so good. I knew I wasn’t suppose to be doing this. It felt wrong. It was so wrong I felt the fat growing in all places of my body. The places where you usually feel the starvation comfort me. Arms, legs, butt, and most importantly, my stomach. I felt the nourishment rushing all through my body. Like a cigarette hitting your calves and then toes. Like its your first one all through the belated day. I began to cry. I drank a glass of cranberry juice to soak up the dry stuff. I threw the cup in the sink and ran upstairs.

I turned the shower on until I felt the steam of the heat. I wanted the guilt gone. Most importantly, the food. I put my right index and middle finger down my throat until I felt a push. After the third push everything started coming out. I continued to do this until nothing else would come out. I purged myself until nothing else would come out. I brushed my teeth and gargled to cleanse myself of the memory. I dried off and turned the water off. I felt so bad and knew I had to be punished.

I found a pocket knife and I sliced my wrist for the very first time. I felt an instant relief. I did it about six more times because it felt so good. I went into my mom’s room looking for something to stop the bleeding. Instead I found something even better. To my surprise I found her hiding place. Her brand new scale from weight watchers was just right there in front of me. I stripped back down into my boxers and the scale read 88 lbs.

I felt so happy. Thanks to Bulimia, I found success.