It’s been five days since I last ate. Well, I drank one box of Kalyppo fruit juice each of the five days. So, technically, I’ve eaten something. (Sigh) You know what? It’s pretty tough being Ana in an African household. It’s difficult to calculate the amount of calories in Maame’s bankye ampesi and nkontomire stew. It’s absolutely impossible for me to know the calories contained in any of the meals Maame prepares, honestly. Typical Africans don’t know what calories are. (Pst, I mean, what insect is that?) Therefore, I make sure I eat nothing at all since I can’t measure the 100 calories required to be Ana. When my stomach keeps disturbing me with its judgmental growls, I throw in some Kalyppo fruit juice and that settles it.
This is who I am. This is what I’m meant to do. Let me introduce myself. My name is Anna Abrafi Rezich. And I’m sure I am anorexic. My name says it all. AnnaRezich? Anorexic? Yet they still wonder why I “starve” myself. Ha! Ana is who I am. My parents don’t totally understand anorexia so they keep finding annoying ways and means to get me to eat. They think shouting at me is the only way to force me to eat. But what is purging for? Playing the guilt card makes it even funnier. Like why am I supposed to feel guilty for not eating? Why am I supposed to feel bad because my not eating makes you feel bad, have I sent you?
I have passed out seven times this week. Thrice in my bathroom, twice in taxis, once in front of the mobile money vendor near my cousin Nate’s hardware store and the most recent one was at church during deliverance. Everyone thought I was touched by the Spirit. The ushers wrapped me in one of the church’s African print cloths to prevent my fat thighs from showing whilst the pastor broke me loose from the chains and machinations of the devil. I was unconscious for about an hour and thirty minutes. That’s when the ushers came to sprinkle water on me to wake up still thinking that I was only overwhelmed by the Spirit. Isn’t it funny?
No one in my family knows about my fainting spells. I guess I’m lucky. So you’re probably wondering why I’m doing this. Well, have you heard the saying, “destroy what destroys you”? That’s exactly what I’m doing. Whoever came up with this saying didn’t consider the case whereby you destroy you. I’m destroying me because me is destroying me. Does that make sense?
I’ve never been good enough for anyone. The boy I had a crush on was only trying to break my virginity to win his 50 cedi bet with another boy, Kwesi. School is just shitty and I hate my course. I had two Fs last semester. I’m still thinking of how to break the news to my parents. Talking about my parents, they’ve had two meetings with me to discuss my “attitude”. They told me that if they don’t notice any improvement in my attitude they’re going to take drastic measures.
When my parents say drastic measures, they mean seizing my phone and cutting down my allowance. Seizing my phone wouldn’t faze me because it’s not like anyone texts me or anything. I only use my phone to go on instagram and look at pictures of people enjoying life. Oh and sometimes I read books on my kindle to escape this nightmare of a reality. Cutting down my allowance wouldn’t hurt much either. I hardly spend on makeup or clothes because you know…social anxiety. I only use my money to buy mobile credit. But no phone means no mobile credit to worry about. Drastic measures or not, it’s a win-win.
I hate myself. I’ve thought about cutting but that’s too painful for me. Suicide has come to mind too but I guess I’m a Christian and I’m afraid of going to hell. So, I’m just punishing myself for being unlovable. Nobody likes me. Haha, I don’t even like myself. Hold on now, I’ve said too much. Let this remain between us, shh.
Ampesi and nkontomire stew
Kalyppo fruit juice