Daughter Simone and I had lunch today in Barney’s restaurant and we saw a woman so anorexic that she got tongues wagging at the next table. Her legs were so thin it was hard to believe they could hold up her body, frail as it was. The woman was OF (I’m going to leave off the F in this case.) When we passed her table to leave, she was pecking at her bread, just like a bird.
When I look at my body today, I know that it’s a bit chunky. When I lose a few pounds, I know it’s less chunky. When our stick figure woman looks at her body, she thinks she’s fat. I understand anorexia is a disease but I wonder whether the people who love this woman tell her she looks frightening and try to get her help.
One of my FOF friends is borderline anorexic (remember, I sometimes act like a doctor). She isn’t as dramatically emaciated as the woman I saw today, but still she’s ridiculously thin. I once mentioned to her that she hardly eats and looks anorexic, but she fabricated some excuse, so I knew I was wasting my time–and hers. She’s a pretty woman, but the glow left her face long ago. She’s pale and drawn. It’s not attractive.