Model Kim Noorda's Food Journal

The intake meeting with the nutritionist [at Renfrew] took place today. She weighed me, calculated my BMI, and made a weight-gaining plan for the four weeks: one pound per week. This is standard procedure for the center for everyone who weighs less than 90 percent of ideal body weight. I did not like that at all. I told her I would try to agree to that because my agents have also told me that they would like me to gain an extra five pounds. She told me that five pounds is not that much, and probably no one would even see it. I told her that people in the fashion industry see every gram of fat. ...

[E-mail to her sister after the first day of treatment] "I already wanted to quit the project. I thought I couldn't cry for someone else's sorrow, but I did have to cry about these girls. There are some spoiled brats among them who seem not to be using their heads, but there are also some very smart girls who are still so unsatisfied about everything. The group works like a mirror, and I really thought, Wow, I do not want to be like that. The food is not luxurious here -- sticky toast, kind of old apples, which you cannot peel because that is policy. You have to measure off the butter, peanut butter, salad dressing, and you have to finish your plate within a certain time. I get very irritated by it, and I feel like a suckling pig because they are really feeding us. . . ."

This was a tough day. You are weighed on Fridays, and I was not allowed to know how much I weighed. I could ask them later, and they would say if my weight had increased or decreased, but I forgot. I feel stupid that I forgot, stupid that I cannot know. I experienced a collision with one of the staff members at breakfast that morning. She thought that I had not measured the amount of peanut butter well and wanted me to do it over again. I felt so embarrassed! I also believed that she should not give me a hard time -- after all, I wasn't difficult about food like the larger part of the table. I told her that I did do it right. She asked if we could talk in the corridor. I was almost exploding from all the irritations of the first week. I told her that I found it annoying that she was giving me such a hard time and that I am already disgusted by eating peanut butter on a banana. I told her she should do with her stupid banana what she thought was good for her. I could not open up for the rest of the day due to this. ...

Today a woman brought something up: "How do you interpret remarks from other people about your appearance?" For instance, you could misunderstand "My, you look healthy" as "You're fat." In me, it means the same, due to my job, I reckon. During a show season, when a model is not slim enough, people tell her, "Oh, you look so good, so healthy!" whereas the agencies recommend she lose weight. ...

I have an appointment with the nutritionist and learn that I had lost weight. I was convinced that I had gained. That was the reason I had consciously started to eat less. Surreptitiously I felt somewhat relieved. According to the rules, she had to do a weight-gain contract with me with sanctions if I had not gained at least one pound per week. I was slightly upset. ...

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