Locker Room Tales: The Secret World of Locker Rooms

The Brut cologne was flowing like wine. Brut – that wonderful scent in the green bottle. Brut – the essence of man. Brut by Faberge. God knows I had a bottle of it in my locker. Every wrestler had a bottle of it in his locker. We were using prodigious amounts of it back then. We didn't wear any hifalutin fragrance like Polo by Ralph Lauren. Sometimes we called cologne “stink” and deodorant “pit.”

Perhaps I should have worn Hai Karate simply because it would have been cool to say, “I'm wearing Hai Karate.” And, if there's any truth in advertising, I'd be fighting to keep the women off of me. That's where the karate comes into play. Hai Karate – be careful how you use it.

I used Body on Tap Shampoo back then. “Beer enriched Body on Tap Shampoo gives your hair super body and the shine of your life.” “Brewed with one-third real beer. But don't drink it!” “It makes your hair easy to manage and a pleasure to style!” Sometimes I'd let my fellow wrestlers use some. Chip, one of the seniors, would then refer to it as the “community poo.” Chip was known to drink now and then so someone would say, “Now Chip, don't drink that.”

When it was time to shower after practice, the upperclassmen would say, “Freshman, go flush the toilets!” They claimed this made the showers hotter. We just ignored them. My older sister told me a junior guy and a freshman got into a fight about it once. Imagine two nude young men duking it out in the shower. Kevin, a junior, thought it would be funny to flush the toilets himself. So, one night he kept running from the toilets to the shower. He'd run to the toilets and flush them and then zip back to the shower room. Of course everyone was cracking up laughing.

Kevin was same guy who liked to do a drum solo as a warm-up before wrestling. He kept a pair of drum sticks in his locker. When we had a home meet and it was time for us to get our uniforms on, he would take out the sticks. He turned a plastic bucket over and used it for a drum. He also used the bench as a drum and the metal lockers as cymbals. He would start out slowly but soon he'd be flailing his arms wildly. Of course this had us all cracking up laughing as well.

Most of us liked to stand in front of the one small mirror hanging over the sink when combing our hair after showering. One's coiffure has to look good for the ladies. I was one of the shorter guys so sometimes a taller guy would stand behind me and we'd share the mirror. 

Was there ever talk about sex? Yes, of course.

“Men have been talking about sex in locker rooms since they were 14. While women were discussing ‘feminine’ things — makeup, relationships, feelings —men were doing the manly things — counting conquests, keeping score.” (Redbook, 1983) [1]

 

I had to put up with some teasing when I was a sophomore and had a girlfriend from another school nearby. One of the upperclassmen dubbed me Virgin Killer after hearing some rumors about my girlfriend and me. He had some misconstrued notion that she and I had been engaged in some carnal activity. I guess I didn't really set him straight on the matter either. 

I told my girlfriend about the nickname thinking she might get upset. She thought it was funny. Years later I found out the German heavy metal band Scorpions had an album entitled Virgin Killer released in 1976. The Scorpions released an album, Love at First Sting, in 1984 after she and I had been dating only a few months. A popular song from the album was “Rock You Like a Hurricane.”

Sometimes one guy would try to provoke another guy by teasing him with a line like, “Hey, man, I enjoyed spending time with your mom last night.”

Or there were backhanded compliments where someone might say, “Hey, man, I don't care what EVERYONE else says about you. I think you're an okay guy.”

It's difficult not to notice how everyone looks naked when you have to undress and shower together. Brad was built like a bodybuilder. Other guys were scrawny. Damn, lift some weights dude! Some guys were brazen enough to comment on another guy's “package.” I got used to standing naked in a line with other wrestlers waiting to weigh in at tournaments.

What was it like in the girls locker room?

"I envisioned my female counterparts being ushered into individual cleansing facilities where there would be soft music playing, the water would come out at the perfect temperature, towels wouldn’t be needed because each compartment would be equipped with air-drying fans and there would be a gentle spritzing of the perfume of the girl’s choice on the way out. Attendants, probably freshmen, would take care of nail and hair maintenance and see that clothing was restored with nary a muss." [2]
 
What did the girls talk about in their locker room?

I'm sure they were totally mature and could maintain eye contact while standing there in the buff having a 5-minute discussion about the assignment for history class.

I'm sure they didn't sneak a peak at each others bodies and pass judgment.

I'm sure they never glanced “down there” to see what was trending in pubic hair. “Wow! A Brazilian wax!”

However, in the movie Sixteen Candles, Samantha and her friend Randy are admiring Caroline Mulford's body declaring she must have flunked several years because of her well developed body.

INT. GIRL"S SHOWER ROOM

Girls are showering and dressing after gym. We see Sam and Randy standing in the doorway of the shower room with their arms folded across their chests to conceal their modest charms. Sam's shaking her head as she studies the mature physiques of the senior girls. Randy clucks her tongue.

SAM

That's unbelievable. I swear to God

Caroline Mulford had to flunk about

                                 nine grades.

CLOSEUP - THE WORLD'S MOST PERFECT BREASTS

SAM AND RANDY

They hold their intense stares.

RANDY

It truly makes me ill. [3]

I seem to recall waiting for my older sister outside of the girls' locker room one evening. Some of the senior girls discovered I was waiting near the door and decided to tease the shy freshman boy.

The door was opened wide a couple of times and two of the senior girls yelled, “Hey, Tharin!” They were standing there modeling their slips and bras for me as I recall. I just blushed and averted my eyes. I'm not sure why the hell I didn't just leave and wait somewhere else. I think I did eventually. 

Even though I got a couple of looks into the girls locker room, I don't recall ever having the desire to sneak a peek through a secret hole or anything. I don't recall any guys ever even saying anything like, "Man, I wish I could be invisible and hang out in the girls locker room when they're showering."

If nothing else, the movie Porky's taught us that young men shouldn't be peeping into girls locker rooms, especially when coach Beulah Balbricker happens to be in the shower area.

 

I already mentioned that my teammates and I weren't exactly sweet, innocent young men.

For a while I had a picture of a bikini-clad female hanging on the inside of my locker door. One day the coach spotted the picture and stopped to look a little closer.

He observed it keenly, appraising it. Then in a flash he tore it from the door exclaiming, “Damn it! This is a locker room, not a brothel!”

I'm just kidding. I never had any pictures of bikini-clad women. I just stole that line from the movie Patton.

General Patton thinks the soldiers in his new command are lacking discipline. He inspects the mess hall and then the enlisted soldiers barracks. As he walks through the barracks, one young man realizes the general is present and snaps to attention. General Patton notices a pinup hanging on the wall behind the young man. The general leans in to get a closer look and nods his head seemingly in approval.

The general begins to walk away but turns and in a flash strikes the pinup from the wall with his riding crop and calmly says, “This is a barracks. It's not a bordello.”

I did truly see the coach furious on one occasion though. It was during my sophomore year and we were wrestling at home against nonconference rival Decorah. I think the coach had a beef with the coaches of Decorah. He didn't like the perceived arrogance of the Decorah team that came from a much larger school.

Well, we got beat pretty badly that night. After the meet was over we were ordered to go to the locker room and sit down on the wooden benches.

Coach was furious and laid into us. He said that we had wrestled like rank amateurs. He said that some wrestlers, including upperclassmen, had wrestled flat-footed and clumsily making stupid mistakes. We had embarrassed ourselves and shown ourselves to be incompetent asses not worthy of wearing varsity uniforms. He may have suggested that some members of the team had wrestled with their heads up their asses.

I am paraphrasing of course. I don't remember his exact words just that he was enraged.

He wasn't finished. He let us know that if we thought practice had been tough lately we hadn't seen anything yet. He told us that we were going to be worked so hard in the next practice that we'd think our asses we going to fall off.  Then he punctuated his fury and ended his tirade by smashing his fist through a window in the locker room door.

I hadn't even wrestled that night. I had gotten a bye because Decorah didn't put anyone on the mat at my weight that night. Nonetheless, I felt the sting of his words as much as every other wrestler.

After the meet I was talking to my girlfriend from another school who happened to be there that night. As we were talking, coach appeared in the gymnasium and happened to look in our direction. I almost jumped out of my skin and walked about ten feet away from my girlfriend and pretended I didn't know her. She, of course, wondered what the hell my problem was.

I really was afraid the coach might yell at me. He might say, "Damn it! This is exactly what I'm talking about! You guys aren't wrestling in a focused manner because you're thinking about other shit like girls!"

He did actually mention her the next day. But, it was fine.

"Was that your girlfriend I saw you with last night? She's attractive."

And, he'd cooled off by the next day. He did not, in fact, work us until our asses fell off. I think at the wrestling banquet that year he joked that this season had cost him a little money because he had to pay to replace a broken window.

 

I spent a lot of time in locker rooms during my wrestling career.

Before a meet I'm in the locker room. I remove my clothes. My gym bag contains everything I need. I have my singlet and warm-up suit. I usually have a t-shirt and sometimes a sweatshirt. One time I brought along a t-shirt that looked like a tuxedo. Jeff thought it was pretty funny when I removed my warm-up top to reveal my tuxedo t-shirt. Hey, there's no reason you can't look classy at a sporting event. Sometimes I have a pair of shorts as well. I have the short socks I prefer and my athletic supporter. I dress and the put on my wrestling shoes. I leave the straps of my singlet down for now. I loop the chin strap of my headgear through one of my singlet straps and snap it so it hangs there at my side. I'm all set. The tension is building already in the pit of my stomach but the nerves won't really hit me until the national anthem is played.

 

 

When I wrestled at 98 lbs. I got to lead the team out of the locker room which was pretty cool. I'd exit the locker room, walk up the steps, and then run onto the mat to the cheer of the crowd. I was so nervous the first time though that I almost led the team into the coach's office instead of up the stairway.

The wrestlers locker room was at the bottom of a flight of steps. It was subterranean. It seemed appropriate for a bunch of wrestlers who thought they were tough guys. It was kind of like a dungeon or pit or hades. The coaches office also held the scale.

I had to go to a lot of early morning weigh-ins. I'd strip down quick by my locker and step on the scale in the coaches office. Then I was off to The Grill to have some pancakes.

The coaches door and the locker room door were right by each other. That's why I almost led the team into the coaches office the first time I wrestled a varsity match.

I  had a decent freshman year, placing third at the conference tournament and earning a varsity letter.

 

I had a strong start to my sophomore season, but then cutting weight started to wear me down physically and emotionally. My coach was aware of this but he also thought I had another problem. He'd seen me hanging out with a certain female at some competitions and at school. At one tournament he looked at us sternly and told me it was time to warm up for my next match.

 

One evening after practice he found me alone in the locker room and decided to give me some advice.

"I think you need to stop spending so much time with your girlfriend. You'll have plenty of time for that after wrestling season is over."

I knew who he was talking about and she wasn't even really my girlfriend and I told him as much. I told him I figured he was going to say something. I think he was surprised that I said anything. I think he was surprised that I tried to defend myself. I was a very quiet person. He probably just expected me to nod and say “Okay.” But, I guess I surprised him. I think he even told my parents that we'd had a nice little conversation.

I had trouble making weight for the Starmont Tournament that year. I jumped rope and then they rolled me up in a mat for a while. I think O cried lying there inside that mat. I weighed again and was down to my competition weight. My coach said, "Congratulations, you made it." He almost sounded sarcastic when he said it. But, I suppose he was happy to have his star lightweight make weight.

After I made weight I took out two candy bars and a bottle of pop. Coach White said, "Just eat one of those candy bars. Then go get yourself some breakfast. I made it to the finals that day. I got beat by two points to place second.

My sophomore season I placed fourth in the conference and third at sectionals. It was a disappointing end to the season.

 

During my junior year I was dating a girl from Waukon. We wrestled Waukon each year in a dual meet. That year our team would be visiting their high school. My girlfriend knew which locker room we'd be using. She told me she was leaving me a note and what locker I could find it in. So, when we arrived and entered the locker room I tried to discreetly locate the locker and the note. I found the note. I don't recall what she wrote. I suppose she wished me luck and pledged her undying love for me. The match with my opponent ended in a tie that evening which worked out well for my girlfriend. She could be proud of her boyfriend without being hassled for consorting with the enemy who defeated one of their wrestlers.

 

Later that season I was wearing a mizpah pendant she'd given me. She, of course, had the other half. I placed it in my locker at the conference tournament which was held at Valley that year. When I got dressed that evening I accidently left it hanging in the locker. I think it may have crossed my mind to call the school and see if they had a lost and found box. But, perhaps I was too embarrassed to call or just didn't think it was worth the bother. It didn't matter much anyway because she dumped me after the conference tournament.

I placed second at the conference tournament that year and won sectionals. I was seeded first at districts. I was supposed to be the district champion but it didn't work out that way. I got beat first round. But, the guy seeded second also lost first round. So, I beat him in a second round match that went into overtime. This gave me a chance to "wrestle back" and still place second and qualify for the state tournament. All I had to do was beat the wrestler I had beaten to win sectionals. But, I was a wreck emotionally and worn out physically.

My opponent was from West Central and even some of his own teammates didn't want him to win. One his teammates approached me in the locker room and said something like, "Could you please kick his ass? He got cocky after he beat that guy first round and he's already claiming he's going to beat you and go to state."

I don't recall what I said. I think it just added to the pressure. At any rate, I lost the wrestle back match and wouldn't be going to state. How do you explain getting beaten by someone you'd already beaten soundly twice earlier in the season?

My coach was upset. My fans and family were probably disheartened and bewildered. And, then I was approached by the same West Central wrestler again in the locker room.

"Man, what happened?" he asked.

I just stood there not knowing how to answer.

"Were you just not ready?" he asked.

I just nodded my head which seemed to satisfy him and that was the end of it.

Being a wrestler is hard both physically and emotionally at times.

Vision Quest (1985)

Storyline

A high school wrestler in Spokane, Washington has trouble focusing on his training regimen when a beautiful young drifter takes up temporary residence at his home.

In the 1985 movie Vision Quest, the protagonist Louden Swain drops two weight classes so he can wrestle the best wrestler in the state. He also falls in love with a young woman named Carla who Louden's father has taken on as a boarder in their house. At some point, Louden and Carla become intimate. Louden is ready to give up his dream.

Just before Louden's big match Carla disappears. Seemingly she continued on to San Francisco to pursue her art career like she'd originally planned. But, then she reappears and finds Louden alone in the locker room just before the big match. She tells him she left because she knew he was losing his focus and forgetting his goal because of her. She wants him to finish what he set out to do. Their relationship ends amicably and she'll be staying long enough to see him wrestle.

As she turns to walk out of the locker room she stops and says, "Hey Louden...kick his ass."

The scene went like this:

Carla
You here alone? Good. I was afraid I'd see 20 bare-ass boys. Did you make the weight?

Louden
You just took off. You didn't even say goodbye.

Carla
Look, If I hadn't left like I did you wouldn't even be here. You were ready to forget the whole thing.

Louden
What should I say, thank you?

Carla
I don't want you to say anything, Louden. I just think people ought do what they set out to do.

Louden
Do you?

Carla
Louden, I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to do that. I just didn't know how to say goodbye. So, goodbye.

She turns to leave.

Louden
Carla. I'd do it all again.

Carla
So would I.

Carla leaves but reappears briefly.

Carla
Hey Louden...kick his ass. [4]
 
 

 

 

I don't recall ever having a girl visit me in the locker room although I may have had girls waiting for me after I got out of the locker room from time to time.

My senior season of wrestling started out kind of slow but I picked up steam and won the conference tournament in January in dominant fashion. Then I won the sectional tournament and headed into the district tournament as the number one seed.

One night after practice toward the end of the season I showered and left the locker room. The door closed behind me and I started up the steps but turned back for some reason. I was going to open the door to the locker room but happened to hear some other wrestlers and the coach talking about me.

"Tharin usually starts dying out this time of the season but this year he just keeps getting better and better," someone said.

I smiled to myself and then quietly walked back up the stairway. 

While my competitors and I were waiting to get weighed in a locker room at the district tournament, I looked at them and thought they looked tired. They looked worn out and deflated. I thought to myself I can beat these guys. I am going to win this tournament.

And, so I did. I was champion that day and qualified for the state tournament.

My dad decided to visit me in the locker room after I won my final match. I guess he didn't want to wait for me to come out. I don't recall what was said. I suppose he just said, "Congratulations. Good job out there." I'm a quiet person so I don't suppose a whole lot was said. I was just touched that he'd come down to the locker room to see me.

I think Randy's dad had done the same thing a year earlier when Randy had qualified for the state tournament. I think my older sister had asked Randy about it and what it was like and Randy had said, "Yeah, it got kind of emotional."

Most of my time in locker rooms involved wrestling but I had gym class as well in high school. I don't recall much about the locker room atmosphere for gym class. I seem to recall a tough guy asking my friend Brad to do something unpleasant and Brad politely declining hoping the tough guy wouldn't get mad. Brad was kind of a class clown so the tough guy just laughed and said, "Brad, you're funny as hell."

On some other occasion I recall a classmate undressing and revealing that he was wearing some sort of fat burning belly wrap. It was a stomach reducing, fat burning belt of some sort. No one made fun of him. I think we just found it intriguing even though I was dubious about its fat burning abilities.

I had to use a small locker room a few times when I was in treatment for an eating disorder at the hospital. The treatment team had decided at some point that the eating disorder patients should have an aquatics class. I don't really know why. Was it because they wanted us to exercise in a manner that would be easy on our bones and joints? Or, was it because they believed that exercising in bathing suits would be good for battling body image issues?

Well, the pool was heated like a hot tub which was nice. I suppose I had crushes on some of the female patients at times and imagined being alone with them in the pool. Sometimes I was comfortable revealing my body wearing nothing but swim trunks and at other times not at all.

I probably found changing in that tiny locker room before and after aquatics surreal. I could have been out living a normal life in the real world. What the hell was I doing in this little hospital locker room? What the hell had brought me to this?

I'd considered entitling this piece "The Microcosm of the Locker Room". It kind of fits. I suppose the locker room is a "little world" involving a small community. But, is a locker room a miniature representation of society as a whole? Perhaps. After all, there's a lot more going on in locker rooms than people showering and changing clothes.

Some movies like Miracle contain great locker speeches.
 

This speech was given by Herb Brooks (actor Kurt Russell) in the 2004 movie Miracle right before the U.S.A National Hockey team played the Soviet Union National Hockey team in the 1980 Lake Placid Olympics.

"Great moments are born from great opportunity. And that's what you have here tonight, boys. That's what you've earned here tonight. One game. If we played 'em ten times, they might win nine. But not this game. Not tonight. Tonight, we skate with them. Tonight, we stay with them. And we shut them down because we can! Tonight, WE are the greatest hockey team in the world. You were born to be hockey players. Every one of you. And you were meant to be here tonight. This is your time. Their time is done. It's over. I'm sick and tired of hearing about what a great hockey team the Soviets have. Screw 'em. This is your time. Now go out there and take it."

That scene brings me to tears. That game was amazing. The amateurs defeating a team who were essentially professionals.

It was about so much more than beating the Soviets. America was in a malaise.
America really needed a moment of pride. It came that night.

"The effect was immediate. Pandemonium reigned in the stands. Players exuberantly celebrated. The Soviets looked on in shock and awe. Coach Herb Brooks ran into the locker room and broke down in tears. When the players went in, they broke out into "God Bless America." They then took a call from President Carter (and they still had a game to go to win Gold!)." [5]

Most adults probably use locker rooms at fitness centers and health clubs. Perhaps some of these places have a scale for patrons curious to see if they've lost any weight. Some people are more comfortable than others when it comes to getting naked, changing clothes, and showering.

"You’re going to do it. You’re going to take your clothes off in this room full of other adult women because you are an adult woman too and there will be no more of this junior high let-me-hide-my-lady-parts bullshit. You are paying $90 a month for this place, plus that extra fee for the specialized Pilates classes and the locker rental, and that means that you deserve to treat this place like your personal boudoir. You should not have to hide yourself away in a sticky bathroom stall in order to change into your yoga pants. No, ma’am. Today, things change. Today, you are going to let your nips fly." [6]

Some people leave a locker room feeling elated while others leave feeling deflated depending on how their workout went or what the scale shows. People experience happiness, sadness, anger, and jealousy in the locker room. Sometimes people fight. Other times a teammate offers a comforting word when you've experienced a defeat. Some young men walk with a confident swagger in a locker room while other young men are filled with insecurities. The same goes for women. Sometimes coaches yell in a locker room and sometimes they offer encouragement or comfort. Sometimes a halftime pep talk in the locker room is a game changer. I suppose navigating the world of the locker room is a bit like traveling through the real world.

That night at the disctrict tournament when my dad came down to congratulate me, some other wrestlers were still preparing for their final match. A wrestler from St. Ansgar High School was in the locker room warming up for his match at 138 lbs. He had a portable stereo with him and placed a cassette in it. Soon the theme song from Rocky, "Gonna Fly Now," was playing. We were all familiar, of course, with its opening fanfare and its soaring melody. There's only a few lyrics: "Getting strong now. Won't be long now." The St. Ansgar wrestler was trying to get psyched up for his match. He picked the perfect song. He won his final match and then went on to become a state champion that year.

"Gonna Fly Now" is rousing and inspirational. And yet, at that moment it was also peaceful. I didn't have to worry about getting psyched up. I'd already won. I was district champion. I was going to the state tournament. So, I could just relax and enjoy the music. 

 

 

 

Notes 

1. Laskow, Sarah. "A Brief History of the Evolution of Locker Room Talk." Atlas Obscura, 11 Oct. 2016, https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/a-brief-history-of-the-evolution-of-locker-room-talk. Accessed 5 March 2020.

 

2. Steinhoff, Ken. "The Truth about Locker Rooms." Cape Girardeau History and Photos, 1 Oct. 2013, http://www.capecentralhigh.com/central-high-school/the-truth-about-locker-rooms/. Accessed 5 March 2020.

3. Hughes, John. Sixteen Candles. 1983.

4. Ponicsan, Darryl. Vision Quest. 1985.

5. Joseph, Joslin. "How a Miracle on Ice Forever Changed the USA." We Are The Mighty, 20 Feb. 2020, https://www.wearethemighty.com/sports/1980-winter-olympics. Accessed 5 March 2020.

 

6. Towers, Paige. "A Woman Debates Getting Naked in the Fitness Center Locker Room." McSweeney's, 13 Feb. 2014, https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/a-woman-debates-getting-naked-in-the-fitness-center-locker-room. Accessed 5 March 2020.

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Barely Alive in 2005

I was in bad shape in the fall of 2005. My weight was low and I was barely eating. I finally called the hospital in College Town and asked to be admitted to the eating disorder program. I was told there was a waiting list and it could be several weeks. Perhaps if my heart had been beating erratically or I'd had some other acute condition I could have been admitted to the general hospital but I was “okay” other than having a very low weight. 

I could have tried to find another eating disorder program but I'd been to the program in College Town before so that's where I wanted to go again. So, I waited. And waited. And waited. I knew it was truly possible I might die but I waited nonetheless. I even continued working.

I finally received a call one day and was told a bed was available for me. My parents drove me to College Town. I was angry with myself. I'm an intelligent man. I am too intelligent to need hospitalization and have my entire life disrupted just because I can't do something as fucking easy as eat.

I'd been fantasizing about food. I'd even been dreaming about food. I wanted meat loaf. I'm not sure why. Comfort food? If I was hungry, why didn't I just eat? Easier said than done.

While I sat there in my hospital gown and had my intake interview with a nurse she pushed a tray of food in front of me and I'll be damned if it wasn't meat loaf. I think she might have been concerned that I'd refuse to eat but I wasn't going to turn this meatloaf down. Serendipity? Happy accident? Strange coincidence?   

Time on the psychiatric unit went quickly. I'd been through this process before. Even though I can look ghastly at a low weight, I usually restore (gain) weight fairly quickly in a hospital setting. I'm not one of those people who loses two pounds from fidgeting in a chair. So, it wasn't too long before the doctors were talking about discharging me. Discharge came with a catch. I'd have to attend the partial hospital (day treatment) program until I restored some more weight.

 

I'd been in Partial Hospital before years earlier. During that period of time I was still able to board in the hospital. They had a floor for people to board on in an area of the hospital called Boyd Tower. Sounds fancy, huh? But, no. I just lived in a hospital room. But, I could come and go as I pleased as if I were in a motel for instance. And, I received meal vouchers I could use in the hospital cafeteria which was convenient.

But, this time around was different. There was no longer a place to board in Boyd Tower. I had to stay in a motel if I was going to attend Partial. A social worker made some arrangements for me to stay at a Days Inn on "the strip" in an area right next to College Town and near the hospital.

I wasn't too happy about living in a motel. I'd have to ride in a shuttle bus back and forth. I'd have to eat my evening and weekend meals in my room or at restaurants on the strip. I didn't have the convenience of just walking down to the cafeteria with a voucher. Sometimes I did have the shuttle bus take me to the hospital on evenings or weekends just so I could eat in the cafeteria. I realize that's probably hard to understand but I liked the familiarity of the hospital cafeteria.

Partial didn't go well for me. I wasn't comfortable at the Days Inn. I was surrounded by restaurants on the strip but couldn't bring myself to eat. Food, food everywhere, but not a bite to eat. That's what I was thinking.

I sort of borrowed that from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner". The mariner is stuck with his shipmates on a becalmed ship surrounded by seawater and yet they are dying of thirst. The ship has depleted its stores of freshwater and though surrounded by water the sailors cannot drink the salt water. Can you imagine the agony of being surrounded by water and not being able to drink it because you know it would only make you thirstier?

 

"Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink."

 

While living at that motel on the strip I was surrounded by burgers, tacos, and pizza. I had Chinese and Italian food within walking distance. I could have went to the mall nearby and ate in the food court. I could have bought some food at Walgreens across the street.

 

 

I couldn't do it!

By the way, I'd fallen in love with a petite blond gymnast and dancer named Elsa while on the eating disorders unit. She was still in the hospital so I was missing her too. I saw her on weekends a couple of times because I was allowed to go to the weekend activity at the hospital while in Partial.


Elsa was unable to come to the phone and talk to me sometimes which concerned me. I found out much later she'd gotten in some trouble for harboring caffeine pills in her room. She was placed on one-on-one observation I think and not allowed calls.


On the first Friday night I spent at the motel, I walked across the street to Walgreens. It was strange walking around this discount store in an unfamiliar city. But, I needed some laundry detergent so there I was. I remember Tom Petty singing over the sound system and wondering how I was ever going to get through this shit.

 

When the mariner and his shipmates are stuck on a becalmed ship, they are probably stuck in the doldrums. The doldrums refers to a zone near the equator where sailing ships sometimes get stuck on windless waters. You may also know that the doldrums can describe a period of low spirits and lack of energy. It can also be described as a state or period of inactivity, stagnation, or depression.

I had been living in the doldrums myself it would seem. I'd been going through the motions of life. I worked some and kept to myself in my spare time except for visiting my parents and the library. I'd never established any sort of career after graduating college. I didn't date because I felt too impaired to even imagine being in a relationship. I certainly had low spirits and a lack of energy.

And, now that I was in so-called treatment I really felt no better. I probably would have told you I felt even worse than before coming to treatment. I was still stuck in what seemed an incapacitated state. I was still in the doldrums.

I was eventually asked to return to the inpatient unit. The doctors were nice and told me it wasn't my fault. They'd discharged me too soon they said. Upon returning to the unit I saw Elsa again. I think she gave me a hug just to let me know she wasn't disappointed in me and was still there to support me. Then soon after she was discharged and returned to Kansas. She said she'd call me when she got home. She didn't call that night. Or, the next. Days and weeks passed. I finally accepted that she was never going to call.

I got discharged again from inpatient and stayed in a different motel while attempting Partial Hospital again. It didn't go any better the second time around although I did eat at a couple of restaurants. I had dinner one evening with two other Partial patients, Sarah and Rebecca, at Old Chicago. I only ate about half of my burger and fries. Then we went to Memoirs of a Geisha. I think I went out with Sarah alone once as well. I think we may have went to the movie Munich and then went to the Peking Buffet for dinner afterward. I was overwhelmed with the buffet and didn't eat too much. Even some help from my peers couldn't save me.

I went back to inpatient again. They finally discharged me and sent me to a care facility. I finally got through Partial Hospital because the care facility made sure I ate in the evenings and on weekends.

While at the care facility, I finally made contact with Elsa. She said she loved me but just couldn't bring herself to call. We both had too many problems to deal with. I guess we didn't want to get hurt or hurt anyone if possible.

I never did return home. I stayed in College Town and eventually got an apartment. My dad and sister cleaned out my old apartment. I felt guilty and ashamed. Thankfully I have a supportive family.

In "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" the mariner shoots an albatross and the ship seems to encounter bad luck after that. The sailors blame their misfortunes on the mariner's killing of the sea bird. They make the mariner wear the dead albatross on a rope hung around his neck as a punishment or a reminder of his ill deed.

Has this so-called eating disorder been an albatross about my neck? Sure, it's been a burden being depressed, anxious, and having an inability to eat normally.

I suppose at times I've wondered if I'm being punished by God for wrongdoings in my younger days. Maybe I wasn't kind enough to people. Maybe I wasn't compassionate enough. Maybe I wasn't tolerant. Maybe I was judgmental. Maybe I was mean. Maybe I was arrogant. Maybe a higher power like God wanted to humble me. I guess I don't really believe that although I have been humbled. It's kind of funny that I wondered how some of my classmates were going to survive in the real world after high school. It turns out it's me who can't seem to handle being a grown-up.

The mariner learned to love all men and beasts. He learned to love all things both great and small. He learned to appreciate the mundane as well as the sublime. I've gotten to know people from many walks of life and have learned to appreciate the uniqueness of all. I don't always like everyone I meet. But, I am tolerant of people and realize that everyone has their burdens in life. I am grateful for the good people who have passed through my life and continue to be a part of my life. I have learned to appreciate the simple things in life. I've learned to be thankful. I realize if you have your health and the love of family and friends you have a lot.

While living in the care facility, I went out one evening with a friend and a couple she knew. We went to a Japanese restaurant and I had sushi for the first time. Another friend took me to a Mexican place famous for its burritos made with fresh tortillas. Two girls took me out for breakfast once at a local diner. I went to Panera Bread several times with a female friend after moving into my apartment. She even got me to go out for frozen yogurt a few times.

You might be thinking I just need a girlfriend to make sure I eat. But, it wouldn't matter. I've turned down dinner invitations with pretty girls more than once because I just couldn't handle eating out and varying my daily routine.

I do sort of laugh to myself sometimes and think about how unfortunate it is that I'm so messed up when it comes to eating. I live in an area now with a wide array of restaurants. So many options. Seemingly, I would never get bored with the selection available. And, yet I've eaten out hardly anywhere. It's hard to relate to people talking about restaurants and the joy of eating out. I remember that joy from my youngers days before I became ill. But, I can't fathom being normal now and enjoying eating out. I've thought about eating at a bunch of places and then writing a book about it. But, no one would buy the book. Eating at restaurants is hardly noteworthy. People do it all the time.

Romantic period poets like Coleridge found merit in a quality known as liminality. They valued liminal spaces. The word “liminal” comes from the Latin root, limen, which means “threshold.” The liminal space is the “crossing over” space – a space where you have left something behind, yet you are not yet fully in something else. It's a transition space.

A liminal space is the time between the 'what was' and the 'next. ' It is a place of transition, a season of waiting, and not knowing. Liminal space is where all transformation takes place, if we learn to wait and let it form us.

You may know where you are, physically and geographically, but not know where you are as a person. Being on a psychiatric unit can be eerie. Finding oneself living in a care facility miles from home can seem surreal. I've had times where I've been healthier. I've even eaten out like a normal person and went on dates but it still never quite felt normal. Maybe I never feel quite like I'm in the right place. Maybe I'm healthier at times but I know I've never really left the eating disorder behind. It's a strange state to be in.

I don't like to feel that I'm anxiously floating in the in-between. Sure, I like the idea of transforming into a healthy, happier person. But, transitions are hard for me. I like my comfort zone. I don't like change. I don't like ambiguity. Yet, we all go through transitions. The concept of "coming of age" is a classic example of a liminal space. We are not quite an adult but no longer a child.

I hate transitions and yet I know I'll have to endure more of them in my lifetime. I wish I could count on certainty but have to accept that I can't.

The mariner loses all of his shipmates to Death but somehow he makes it home again with a little supernatural help. He feels the need to tell the story of his misdeed of shooting the albatross to relieve his pain but also to relate to others how it taught him to be a better person appreciative of all life.

I wasn't sure I'd survive 2005 and ever be normal again. But, with some help I made it back to shore and have had some periods that are about as close to normal as I will ever get. Like the mariner, I like to think that I have become more appreciative of life. And, like the mariner I seem to keep telling my story to those that care to listen.

 

Scales Are for Fish

Scales are for fish.

This is a slogan or motto some people use when admonishing individuals with eating disorders to stop obsessing about their weight on the scale.

It's a play on words, you see.  People like to weigh themselves on bathroom scales.  Fish also have scales.  Leave scales to the fish is the message here. 
 

I weighed myself a lot during my high school years because I was a wrestler.  I always wanted to wrestle in a weight class that was below my natural weight thinking I would have a competitive advantage that way.  So, I had to be rather conscientious about my weight at all times.  If I wasn't vigilant about keeping my weight in check I might not be able to compete in my desired weight class.

When I was a wrestler I had a food scale I used occasionally.  I used it on Thanksgiving day when I was a senior to measure out a certain number of ounces of turkey.  I think I used the scale to measure an ounce of cereal occasionally but I usually just measured cereal with a measuring cup.

I remember how a lot of wrestlers knew how much certain foods and liquids weighed.  Sometimes the night before a tournament all one is concerned about is the actual weight of the food.  Most of us knew a carton of milk was 8 oz. I knew consuming a carton of milk was going to cause a half pound weight increase.  A 2 oz. candy bar wasn't going to add much weight if all you cared about was making weight the next morning.  It was kind of a game.  If I am a pound under my weight I can probably have two pounds of food and/or liquid because I'll usually lose a pound overnight while sleeping.  I think some wrestlers call this drift weight.  So, even if eating two pounds of food puts my weight a pound over my competitive weight I'll probably still make weight the next day.  Does this make sense?  In the real world you'd care about the calories but when you're just concerned about making weight the next day all you need to worry about is the actual weight of the food.  Liquid, of course, adds up fast.  It's easy to consume 16 oz. (a pound) of liquid. 

I struggled keeping my weight down during my sophomore season.  But, I somehow managed to be about 3 1/2 pounds under weight the night before the sectional tournament.  What should I eat or drink?  That was the question.  Gary, an upperclassman, suggested I have a six-pack of Pepsi and nothing else.  Well, I was thirsty and I probably could have had that much liquid and still made weight.  But, I decided against his suggestion and had some food and liquid keeping in mind the number of ounces I thought I could consume safely and still make weight the next day.

When I was having trouble eating as an adult I didn't really weigh myself much at all.  I didn't really need a scale to tell me things were going badly.  My cheekbones sticking out like daggers showed how ill I was.  The doctors and therapists I saw weighed me.  At one point I weighed almost what I had back in junior high.  Making weight for wrestling felt like an accomplishment.  Starving down to a certain weight didn't feel like an accomplishment. 

When I was in treatment for an eating disorder many years after my wrestling days the nurses weighed us three times a week as I recall.  Now, it was the doctors and nurses who seemed obsessed with the number on the scale.  They usually wanted patients to restore (gain) weight.  If a patient failed to gain weight then he or she might be placed on 24-hour surveillance.  Perhaps the patient had been exercising in his room when he was supposed to have been sleeping. 

We patients always had to step on the scale backward as I recall.  At any rate, we weren't allowed to see our weight while in treatment.  You knew you were gaining weight but not how much.  The treatment team didn't want patients concerned about their weight.  They wanted patients focused on recovery.  They wanted patients focused on their thoughts and feelings and how it was affecting their behavior.

A social worker named Sam (not his real name) used to tell us, "Eating disorders are not about food, weight, or pant size."

Eating disorders are a maladaptive method of coping with emotional distress.
That's what Sam told us although not everyone was buying it. 

One day during group therapy with Sam, Dr. A stuck his head in the room and Sam said, "Dr. A, we were just discussing how eating disorders are all about food, weight, and pant size."

Without missing a beat Dr. A replied, "Yes, and about how you look in the mirror."

Funny guys, huh?

When I first met Dr. A he asked me what my ideal body would look like.  He asked me to draw him a picture and show him the next day.  I drew a stick figure.  Ha ha.  No, I'm just kidding.  I drew a bodybuilder.  Does that surprise you?  I think a lot of guys like the look of wide shoulders and back tapering down to a narrow waist.

Of course, modern day bodybuilders look like cartoon characters with their oversized muscles.  But, the bodybuilders of the 70s and 80s looked rather fit and athletic. 

Some patients I met in the day treatment program claimed that the number they saw on the bathroom scale each morning would determine how they felt that day.  The number would determine if they felt happy or sad, confident or inadequate.

Sam thought this notion was awfully silly.  How could a number on a scale have so much power?  He suggested that they should just call him each morning and he'd tell them how to feel that day.  He said that would make about as much sense.

Several years ago I got a visit at my apartment from my older sister and my young niece.  My niece being a curious young lady opened my refrigerator.  As I recall the refrigerator was empty which I imagine was kind of a shock for her.  I think her eyes went wide and she kind of laughed.  I think my older sister just smiled too because she knew I was probably always going to struggle with eating.  She didn't seem that surprised as I recall. 

I did have some chocolate chip cookies in the apartment so my niece ate some of those which made me happy.  I think that incident may have been just prior to me going back to the hospital.  All I had in the apartment was cookies because that's basically what I was living on.

It's embarrassing having an eating disorder sometimes.  How do you explain having an empty refrigerator and bare cupboards to normal functioning adults?

The number on the scale has been a pain at times.  It seems like a big joke sometimes, like a bizarre twist of fate.  When I was a wrestler I had to worry constantly about keeping my weight low.  I was checking the scale all the time at home and in the locker room to see how much I was over my weight. 

Fast forward years later.  I am seeing a therapist on a weekly basis and she weighs me each time we meet.  She seems concerned if I lose even a little weight.  I have to worry each week about my weight being HEAVY enough.  If I don't maintain a certain percentage of my target weight I'll have to return to the hospital for treatment.

Some people might find the way that treatment is carried out on an eating disorder unit to be a bit peculiar.  Patients are told not to focus on weight or food.  In fact, you don't get to see your weight when weighed and are not allowed to discuss food or calories.  And yet, patients are weighed on a regular basis and their days are structured around eating a certain amount of food that they have no control over. 

Am I suggesting that treatment centers actually exacerbate the problems faced by patients?  No.  It's kind of a conundrum.  Of course treatment programs must devise ways of encouraging eating and weight gain and yet the meticulous measuring of patients' body weight and calories consumed seems at odds with telling those same patients that eating disorders have nothing to do with food or weight.

On the eating disorder unit I remember being awakened three times a week to be weighed before breakfast.  I had to put on a hospital gown and plod down to the room where the scale was kept.  I'd see all the other sleepy patients in their gowns waiting to be weighed as well.   
Some patients have a magic number they believe they'll be happy at.  But, when they reach that weight they find they're still not happy.  I knew a girl once who told me she thought a certain treatment facility had really helped her.  She said they had set her target weight at 117.  She told me she had no desire to maintain that weight but thought she might be happy with 110.  Granted, 110 lbs. was significantly higher than she'd been before treatment and yet I still found it amusing that she was already planning to lose weight when she discharged from treatment.  I suppose I could have been a smart-ass and asked her why seven pounds was going to make a difference and how she planned to lose those seven pounds and then stop at 110 lbs. and maintain it.

This is the same girl who on another occasion refused to go to day treatment after being discharged because she claimed she weighed 130.  She was taken back to inpatient in handcuffs.  I wonder if she really weighed 130 or if she weighed something like 125 and simply "rounded up" thinking there wasn't much difference between 125 and 130.  Regardless, she was not happy with the weight that inpatient had left her at.

I wasn't too happy the first time I left treatment.  I was told my target weight had originally been lower and then they raised it claiming my body "wanted" to be at a higher weight.  But, when I discharged I weighed even more than the new target weight they'd decided on even though I'm fairly certain they claim they never let someone get beyond target weight.

"Why the hell did they raise my target weight?" I asked Sam.

"Well, that's where your body is comfortable at," he said.

I wasn't comfortable physically or emotionally so I wasn't sure exactly just what the hell sort of nonsense was coming out of his mouth.  Hell yes, I planned to lose some weight when I got out of that hospital. 

But, during other times in treatment the weight on the scale bothered me less.  Even though they'd let me go over target weight by quite a bit again they claimed there were extenuating circumstances.  Whatever.  It just wasn't worth getting worked up over.

I suppose people being concerned about the number on the bathroom scale is culturally normative.  Even as kids we weigh ourselves out of curiosity noticing how we grow and gain weight each year.  When an adult no longer weighs what he or she did in high school or college it can be discouraging.  But, most people don't decide to starve themselves because they're overly distressed about it. 

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with scales.  They can be a valuable tool.  A large weight gain may signal a problem like edema for example.  Or, if someone has suffered a major health crisis and lost weight then the scale can help determine if someone is considered clinically malnourished and in need of extra care.  

Currently my bathroom scale is gathering dust which is a good thing I suppose.  I hope I don't have to use it again for a while. 

Leave Scales to the Fish

To scared to eat your favorite dish
You won't give yourself permission
Afraid something might go amiss
Even though it sounds delicious

Your so thin that you might vanish
You can't live in such condition
I wonder why you diminish
The gifts you have been given

Your body you must learn to nourish
Deep down you have the volition
Perhaps then you can truly flourish
And then find your true ambition

Your life you must learn to cherish
To you I make this petition
Stop feeling the need to  punish
Life is not a competition

You live your life with precision
But, the pain triumphs over bliss
Dear one, make a new decision
The scale's power you must dismiss

For you I have a single wish
Make loving yourself your mission
Dearest one, leave scales to the fish
Dear soul, this is my benediction