- November 23, 2024
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Though I didn’t particularly want to go out last Thursday night, I felt an irresistible pull to John Sbordone‘s opening-night production of “Skinny on the Skinny,” at City Repertory Theatre.
I was drawn because of my lifelong unresolved food issues. My primitive psychological urge to repeat the painful scenes of my childhood took over completely. I had been an obese child, and I have continued the struggle with weight, self-image and self-worth my entire life; on this night, I was going to face my demon again to peel away yet another layer of the despised, yet dearly cherished ancient adipose tissue.
“Skinny” transported me back to the continual trauma of childhood teasing, name calling, taunting and ignoring — the methods girls use to treat the odd ones, the fat and other unpretty girls.
I’m 10 years old and it’s weigh-in day at day camp. The nurse is sitting at her station as the little girls are lining up to be weighed. As the line gets shorter, I reluctantly creep closer to the scale; I might as well be in line waiting for an excruciating electric shock or a fingernail extraction. The nurse calls the weights out loud as her accomplice diligently records the numbers. Everyone’s going to hear how much I weigh! The fear is overwhelming, stifling, paralyzing. I want to run. I want to die. “Sixty-nine pounds,” the nurse announces. Titters, whispers, finger-points and little hands coyly covering giggling mouths. This is a number I’ll never forget. It is permanently wired into my amygdala.
After the show at the theater, I was predictably lured to Publix to the freezer section by the ice cream siren song. I hunted for chocolate, my lifelong security and comfort, to soothe my wounded child. All these years later, I still see a distorted image in the glass.
So, though age has muted my supercritical judge, it has transformed myopia to astigmatism and far-sightedness; with this perceptual transformation, my reflection is still not totally acceptable.
Blossoming into adulthood, young people are hypnotized by forces driven to destroy the individual spirit — advertising created by misguided adults (mostly male) who have been lulled to the dark side. Persistent Western values of beauty in an ever-male-dominated world mean that competition is still fierce within the female majority.
“Skinny on the Skinny” is a production that should be seen by children and their parents. I would recommend that “Skinny” be presented in middle schools and high schools with discussions, class projects and research accompanying the dramatic presentation — with parents taking part, too.
Anorexia, self-mutilation and suicide are all too real for too many young girls — and boys — and it simply should not be happening to our children. This is a personal issue, a family issue, a community issue. It may be trite, but it’s true that “it takes a village,” and it certainly applies in this case.
Let’s do something about it here, now, in Flagler County with our children, before any more damage is done in the name of vanity, perfection, greed and ego.
Thank you, John Sbordone, for bringing this production to Flagler County.
