On behalf of the Santa Fe Sentinel staff, we would like to congratulate Sofia on her winning short story for the Body Beautiful Contest.

Goodbye E.D, Hello Sofia

As I haggardly stumbled into an unknown territory, I grasped onto my parents’ hands and unwillingly muttered a goodbye. From their arms I was entrusted into the care of strangers for the next sixty days of my life. I was led up stairs as dark as night and laid there, gaunt and emotionally numb. I woke up to the recurring ticking of IV poles and to unfamiliar faces of girls lining up shoulder to shoulder in white floral gowns, underneath naked and cold. These gowns were to become my morning uniform, draping over my body like an oversized curtain. I was shivering and terrified, unsure of where I was, why I was there, or what my next second would be like. I was told to put one of these gowns on and utilized all my energy to drag my weak, drained body to get weighed. “What are you here for?” The other girls asked. The words “anorexia nervosa” slipped from my mouth. In denial, I was shocked by those two words I uttered.

I was separated two thousand miles across the country from home in the middle of Wickenburg, Arizona for intense rehabilitation. I was in an extreme state of denial refusing to accept that I had a problem. I was not one of these shallow girls who “just want to be skinny” and flaunt off their skin and bones. I felt as if this point in my life was mistaken for the life of a Hollywood celebrity whose faces and bodies are exploited all over magazine covers. Among the many thoughts racing through my head were, “How come this was happening to me, did I do this to myself?”

I had been vulnerable and in search for an identity separate from my twin sister when I met this new friend, E.D the eating disorder. He said I’d feel good and look good too. PERFECT. Isn’t that what I wanted? Perfection. Who doesn’t? I became so obsessed with every inch of my body and let E.D control me. He slowly crept up on and put me in a chokehold. I no longer had control. At the deepest point in my friendship with E.D he made me hate myself, especially my body.

I was entirely blinded by the fact that I was slowly killing myself, starving my body of what it needed. I was addicted to the very thing that was killing me. All of my emotions and feelings turned into bashing my body. Yet, with every hunger pang churning in my stomach I still did not feel the perfection I strived for, especially in the media’s eyes. I would never be skinny enough until I was dead. I had been brainwashed by the media that looks define who you are. It deceived me into thinking that I was not worthy of love, not even for myself. Throughout a long journey of blood, sweat, tears, learning, letting go and a lot of pain, I soon realized that was not the truth.

Once I returned home at a healthy weight I gradually learned to love my body, not for what it looks like but for what it allows me to do. I pictured my body as a vehicle, taking me places to discover new things. What matters is not what the car looks like, but what I do wherever I go. While I was sick I was simply bones covered in flesh; a state that inhibited me from doing almost anything. In my healthy body I am able to make others happy, help the less fortunate by volunteering, help struggling students, dance with my friends, enjoy family and so much more.

I have been in recovery for almost two years now and have been able to achieve many goals, thanks to my healthy body. Each of our bodies is unique and that is what makes us each special and individual; our eyes would get bored if we all looked the same. I eventually found myself and learned to love and take care of my body because it is the vehicle that drives me and takes me places.