A superlative is the form of an adjective or adverb used to compare three or more things. The superlative form of an adjective is used to show something has a quality to the greatest or least degree. The superlative form of an adverb is used to show something has performed an action to the greatest or least degree.
Examples:
She is the cutest girl in the class.
He is the worst behaved student in the class.
The word superlative itself can be used as an adjective meaning highest in quality. Superlative has basically the same meaning as excellent, magnificent, wonderful, glorious, marvelous, outstanding, remarkable, unparalleled and unrivaled.
For example, bodybuilder Mike Mentzer was known for his superlative physique. In 1978, Mentzer won the Mr. Universe contest in Acapulco, Mexico with the first and only perfect 300 score. Best in the universe! The perfect man!
However, some people believe that the level of dominance displayed by six-time Mr. Olympia Arnold Schwarzenegger transcended any superlative or official title.
Being indescribably great is a rare honor I would imagine.
The singer James Brown might have been in that category.
One of James Brown's sobriquets was "The Hardest Working Man in Show Business." That may seem like quite a boast but I think he proved he deserved that nickname. He didn't just work hard or harder. He worked the hardest.
As a society we seem to be enamored with superlatives. We enjoy People magazine's annual feature "Sexiest Man Alive". Some men's magazines have annual features like "Sexiest Woman Alive" and "!00 Sexiest Women". We want to know who the most intriguing and beautiful people are. We want to know who the richest and most powerful people are.
Who are America's wealthiest celebrities? Who are the world's highest paid actors and actresses? I want to know!
We look forward to finding out who will win Best Actor and Best Actress at the Academy Awards each year. We want to know who is the best dressed on the red carpet.
Who was the best entertainer ever? Frank Sinatra? James Brown? Michael Jackson? Madonna?
The Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey Circus once billed itself as The Greatest Show on Earth.
I was once the 112-pound Upper Iowa Conference wrestling champion. I know that's not a very impressive title but it meant I was the BEST in that weight class on that day. I wasn't just good or better. I was the best.
People are always arguing over who deserves the title of the Greatest American Amateur Wrestler Of All Time.
John Smith is arguably the greatest amateur wrestler in the history of the sport winning two Olympic gold medals and four world titles. On the other hand, Dan Gable has been the most recognizable name and face of wrestling for nearly 50 years. He's had success at every level including winning an Olympic gold medal in 1972 without giving up a single point. Both Smith and Gable went on to become highly successful collegiate coaches.
There will always be discussions about the best athletes in football, basketball, baseball, boxing, and hockey just to name a few.
Scholars don't just want to be good. They want to be valedictorian. They want to graduate with honors. They want to be the best.
Teenagers don't just want to be popular. They want to be the most popular. They want to be the coolest. They want to be the best looking. No one wants to be mediocre.
Some schools give out end-of-the-year superlative awards like Best Dressed or Best Laugh. Sometimes superlatives are attached to pictures in yearbooks like Most Likely to Succeed.
When I was a senior in high school, the school news staff asked each senior to fill out a survey which involved choosing classmates we believed fit into certain categories like Most School Spirit, Best Dressed, etc.
Some categories were typical like Most Likely To Succeed. Other categories were humorous like Best Skip-Out. Some categories seemed a bit odd like Nicest Legs and Biggest Feet. But, there wasn't anything too scandalous like Nicest Ass, Biggest Dick, or Best Lay.
One of my teammates on the wrestling team was voted Best Dressed Male. He's the same guy who was named a semi-finalist in Teen Magazine's Dream Guy Contest. The Best Dressed Female went on to become a flight attendant and world traveler.
One of my buddies was voted Most Athletic while another friend was voted Most Humorous as well as having the Best Laugh.
The Smartest Male went on to become a professor of computer science while the Smartest Female became a veterinarian.
One of my male friends was voted Best Partier. He may have found it a challenge to explain that to his parents. The female voted Best Partier was a cute girl who was actually my date for the Homecoming Dance that fall. I'm not sure why she agreed to go with a quiet, boring guy like me.
Some other categories were:
Most Likely To Succeed
Best Attendance
Most School Spirit
Most Artistic
Most Musically Inclined
Most Popular
Friendliest Senior
Best Personality
Best Couple
Best Mannered
Best Looking
Nicest Smile
Nicest Eyes
There was nothing too mean-spirited like Most Likely To End Up In Prison or Most Likely To Show Up Drunk To Our High School Reunion. The meanest category was perhaps Dumbest Blonde, Brunette, or Redhead. And, even that category was just for laughs.
So, what was my class superlative? I was voted Biggest Flirt and Most Likely To Steal Your Girlfriend. Just kidding! Actually, I didn't receive any superlative at all. I got jack squat. I didn't even get something nice like Most Dependable or something cool like Most Unique.
If there would have been a Most Quiet category, I undoubtedly would have won that which would have pissed me off to no end. Who wants to be remembered as the most quiet person in the class? No thank you!
John Paul DeJoria, best known as a co-founder of the Paul Mitchell line of hair products, was voted Least Likely To Succeed by his high school peers. And, a business teacher told him he "would never amount to anything." He became a billionaire. I wonder if he ever went to a high school reunion and told his classmates to go f*ck themselves? No. He's probably too classy to do something like that.
I'm not bitter about not being christened with some impressive superlative by my classmates. Perhaps superlatives are a bit silly anyway. How necessary are some of these superlatives? It's not like being voted Best Looking is really an achievement. How subjective and superficial are we? Can we, as a grade, democratically decide who has the most appealing facial features? If this tradition of class superlatives remains, shouldn't it be more than a popularity contest?
Anyway, I received some superlatives elsewhere that meant more to me. When I was a freshman in high school, I had a bit of a crush on one of the senior girls. She was aware of this crush and gave me one of her senior pictures. On the back of the picture she wrote, "To the sweetest freshman in the entire school."
When I was a junior, my teammates on the wrestling team voted me the Most Dedicated Wrestler. When I was a senior, I was voted Most Valuable Wrestler.
While in college a member of the wrestling team told me he thought I was the nicest guy on the entire campus.
As I recall, my brother-in-law said I was the most mellow guy he'd ever met.
I've heard that from some coworkers as well. Some of them have said I am the most mellow and most "chill" guy they've ever met. A few times I had a coworker call me "the goat." I finally realized he meant G.O.A.T. He was saying I was the "greatest of all time."
I don't actually feel mellow. Most of the time I feel anxious and depressed. Sometimes I think I am the Biggest Failure and the Most Worthless Person on Earth.
Superlatives will always be around. If you pay attention, you'll see them everywhere.
I recently saw a man wearing a t-shirt that read Best. Dad. Ever. I also saw a coffee cup that read World's Greatest Grandpa.
I'm sure you all have people in your life who make you feel special as well. Your spouse probably tells you that you're the most attractive and most compassionate person they know. Your children tell you that you're the best parent. Your friends tell you that you're the best friend.
We love superlatives.
Who's the fastest runner?
What mountain has the highest peak?
What is the tallest building?
Remember the Evil Queen in the story of Snow White?
"Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" she asked the mirror.
She wasn't content just to be fair or fairer. She wanted to be fairest of them all.
But it's okay to be average. You may not be the best at something but you're probably not the worst. You may not possess the most of a certain quality but that's okay too. You may not be the best employee but you do your job well. I may not be the sexiest man on Earth but I'm reasonably attractive.
Sometimes we're just average in life. And, that's okay.
The male eating disorder support group (aka men's group) met every Friday afternoon during those times I was in treatment for anorexia nervosa.
The powers that be in the hospital weren't comfortable with men's group because it was an unofficial group that they had no way of billing for. The administrators liked every group to be billed for and accounted for. Nonetheless, our unofficial group met every Friday afternoon up on the eighth floor by the Rooftop Cafe and Rooftop Terrace (patio).
Dr. A had started the men's group after a particular incident occurred during a recreational outing of eating disorder patients. Some female patients had went into a store to shop and the male patients were standing outside twiddling their thumbs as the saying goes. After hearing about this incident Dr. A decided that male eating disorder patients needed their own group. So, men's group was born. I'm not saying whether it's fair or not for the male patients to have their own group but that's the way it was.
Whether you were a male on the inpatient unit or a male attending the day treatment program didn't matter. You were invited to attend men's group. Even if you were a male new to the inpatient unit and hadn't been rewarded with an activity level yet and were still on standard observation, you still got to leave the unit and go to men's group. It was a privilege you received just for being male which doesn't seem fair I suppose. But, I guess Dr. A felt male patients might face some unique challenges and should have their own group and he got his wish. He even put an announcement in some papers inviting any male from the community to our group if he needed support with an eating disorder.
Each Friday afternoon Dr. A would escort the male patients off of the inpatient unit. He would offer to buy everyone something from the snack bar although most of us declined. We would relax on comfortable chairs and couches in some corner of the lounge while having group. If the weather was nice we would have group out on the patio. Dr. A was always there as was Sam a social worker from the day treatment program.
Sometimes former patients would attend group as well. Carl had been in the hospital a few years earlier and still liked to attend men's group. Carl usually let Dr. A buy him a cup of coffee form the snack bar. Carl had skied in the Junior Olympics although it wasn't something he talked about. I think maybe Ryan had mentioned it to me. Carl also had the distinction of appearing on The Oprah Winfrey Show for a segment on males with eating disorders. I had actually seen that particular show and realized that I remembered him. Carl claimed it wasn't him but his evil twin brother that had been on Oprah. Carl was always friendly and always curious about what had brought each guy to treatment.
Carl had come to treatment because of his low weight and depression. He claimed the pain of starvation blunted the pain of depression and that's what had led to his not eating. I think he'd stayed there in Iowa City after treatment to pursue a college degree. After almost starving to death, Carl now considered any food he ate to be good for him even if it was chocolate cake or greasy pizza.
As I mentioned Carl had been a skier. Skiing is the sort of thing Dr. A might use as a metaphor in group to discuss eating disorders.
"You know recovering from an eating disorder is kind of like skiing. Treatment gives you some equipment like gloves, boots, skis, goggles, and a helmet. But, you still have to deal with a lot of ups and downs and bumps and obstacles. You might even have to swerve to avoid some trees or other hazards. In fact, you might have to start out on the bunny slope before you're ready to tackle something more advanced. But, in time you'll be navigating the advanced slopes with ease."
Did we talk about manly things in men's group? Sometimes. For example, sometimes we talked about hunting. One of the men knew about guns and hunting so Dr. A asked for his opinion about shotguns on one occasion. I think Dr. A was considering going to Fin & Feather and having a look around.
We talked about lifting weights and working out sometimes. Dr. A had been lifting weights recently and claimed he now had triceps for the first time in his life. Dr. A mentioned to Carl that I was interested in bodybuilding because Carl also liked to lift weights. Carl had a rule though. He weighed himself before lifting weights. If he'd lost weight since his last workout then he didn't lift weights that day. He figured he couldn't build muscle if he was losing weight so he only worked out if his weight was stable.
A college-aged guy attended one of our weekly meetings and claimed he'd been addicted to pornography at one time and now felt guilty about it. That led to a discussion about pornography and the objectification of women. Sam the social worker recalled going to a bar featuring topless dancers whenever he and some male relatives got together. It seemed like a harmless tradition to him he'd never given much thought to. I said I didn't believe looking at a pornographic magazine or movie occasionally was morally objectionable. Are women who work in that industry being exploited or liberated? People have been arguing about that for ages. I qualified my statement by saying that I also enjoyed simple things like holding a woman's hand or cuddling on the couch. Sam concurred.
Dr. A said he liked it when something was left to the imagination. He'd prefer a woman in a sexy dress singing a song while lounging on a piano. He also brought up body image and the physique of most supermodels. He said his sons didn't find models to be attractive at all. They called models clothes hangers. Dr. A said he preferred some curves and thought the voluptuous actress Catherine Zeta-Jones was the most beautiful woman on Earth except for his wife.
A guy named Ben and I spent some time together on the inpatient unit as well as in the day treatment program. We even lived at the same care facility for a while. Ben had been a star basketball player in high school and had received some college scholarship offers. But, before he could go to college he was faced with a serious health crisis. Doctors found a tumor in his brain and he needed an operation. He survived the operation but they weren't sure if he would walk again. Ben was a fighter and regained his ability to walk and basically function normally although basketball was no longer an option.
Although Ben didn't seem bitter about what had happened to him, I think he was shaken by the whole ordeal. I think perhaps he felt insecure and vulnerable. What could he count on in life? He wanted to feel in control again. He decided he could at least control what he put into his body. So, he became very particular about what and how much he ate. Sam the social worker pointed out that the food was actually controlling Ben. Ben admitted it was just an illusion of control but that it still made him feel more secure.
One afternoon in group we were talking about body image. I mentioned that I wanted to look like a bodybuilder at one time but that now I was more interested in simply being fit. I had decided I valued function over form. I didn't care so much about having big muscles any longer. I wanted to be strong and tough and relished the idea that I could defend myself ably if needed.
Then Ben said two words.
"Sleeper car," said Ben.
"What?" I asked.
"You want to be like a sleeper car," said Ben.
"What's a sleeper car?" I asked.
"Well, it's a car that doesn't look that impressive but has a high performance engine hiding under the hood. Sometimes the car is plain looking or even has a beat up body but has a kick-ass engine. So, other drivers might challenge the driver and of course his car blows their doors off because they made the mistake of judging a book by its cover. And you, being a small dude, like the idea of knowing you could whoop ass if anyone made the mistake of underestimating you," said Ben.
"Oh my God! I love that metaphor!" I said.
One of my favorite movie tropes or plot devices is the guy who is underestimated and then annihilates his adversaries. For example, there's the quiet man running a pawnshop who turns out to be a former covert operative with an impressive level of fighting prowess. He doesn't want to fight but he can and will if needed. If our hero is outnumbered 10 to 1 it's even more satisfying to see him triumph. When you underestimate someone and they turn out to be a badass you're in for trouble.
It wasn't until years later that I did some research on sleeper cars. Ben was right. A sleeper car is a high performance car with an unassuming exterior. A sleeper car may look neglected and unappealing or it may simply look like a standard car with the external appearance looking as it did when it came from the factory. A sleeper car is a car you assume to be slow until you race it and then all you're looking at is the car quickly disappearing in front of you and leaving you in the dust as the saying goes.
The name sleeper car may come from the term sleeper agent. A sleeper agent is a spy who has infiltrated a target country or organization but has "gone to sleep." The spy attempts to blend into everyday life as a normal citizen until he or she is activated and undertakes a mission.
Perhaps you've heard of the term sleeper hit to describe an unexpected success in the entertainment industry. For example, a low-budget movie with unknown actors relying almost solely on word-of-mouth marketing may become popular and successful and thus be labeled a sleeper hit.
If you don't mind me using a metaphor, dear reader, I can tell you that I've seen some eating disorder patients become sleeper hits. I've seen a few female patients considered beyond hope become full-time employees, wives, and even mothers.
What about myself? Have I become a sleeper hit? Well, some people are probably amazed that I'm still alive so I guess I surprised a few people. I continue to struggle but have experienced some things I never thought would happen. I never thought I could feel love again or spend time with a friends going out to lunch or movies.
I've been underestimated before like back in high school and college. You don't think I can become a conference champion wrestler or qualify for the state tournament? Well, you can eat those words now. You don't think I can get good grades and get on the dean's list? Wrong again. DO NOT OVERLOOK ME! DO NOT EVER COUNT ME OUT!
A dark horse is a little known contender that makes an unexpectedly good showing. A dark horse is someone who possesses talents or favorable characteristics that are not known or expected by others.
I'm sure some of you have been the dark horse before. I'm sure some of you have been underestimated before. And, I'm sure some of you have been sleeper hits and surprised a lot of people.
Underneath my plain exterior hides a surprising level of performance. I have much more quality than perhaps meets the eye. Maybe I'm a sleeper agent who hasn't been activated and shown what he's truly capable of. Maybe I'm a dark horse. Maybe I'm a long shot.
But, don't count me out. Not yet.
I met Bianca during one of my many hospitalizations for anorexia nervosa. Thankfully we weren't locked on a psychiatric unit for inpatient treatment. Instead, we were both attending the partial hospital day treatment program.
Bianca was a retired ballerina. She was petite, standing about 5'4" with dark hair. She hadn't belonged to one of the more famous ballet companies but nonetheless had made a living dancing. She'd had some injuries along the way and was getting older. She'd finally given up dancing and was majoring in biology with the goal of eventually becoming a physical therapist. She'd had eating disorder issues during her years as a dancer but had accepted that watching her weight was part of the price to be paid as an elite dancer.
After retiring and beginning college, she found her eating disorder becoming worse which was confusing to her considering dancing was no longer her profession. She wasn't restricting like she had in the past. In fact, she let herself enjoy foods like ice cream and pizza that she hadn't for years. It felt so good to finally eat again. Now she had developed bulimia. She binged sometimes in search of emotional comfort and then purged because of the guilt she felt afterward. She'd finally decided to get some help because her eating disorder behavior was interfering with her studies.
One day in group therapy Bianca mused that perhaps no longer being a dancer had left her feeling painfully normal. She wasn't special any longer. "What am I if I'm not a dancer?" she wondered.
"Why can't you just be a good student and become a good physical therapist? Why isn't that enough?" someone asked.
"I guess I miss the physical demand of dancing. I miss being the talented, thin ballerina," Bianca answered.
Bianca had been dancing since she was a young girl. She'd had overbearing parents who demanded perfection. Bianca agreed that she might still be feeling that need to be perfect. Now that she was at basically a normal weight for her height and age she didn't like it.
"All of my lady parts seem to be getting bigger," she said, "Christ! I was at a dance club not too long ago and told a guy I was a retired ballerina and he didn't believe me. He didn't think I looked like a ballerina!"
"You're a woman. You're supposed to have curves. A woman's body is designed to bear children," remarked the therapist.
Bianca was having none of it. She didn't want curves and wasn't all that thrilled that her monthly period had returned either.
A teenage patient named Olivia had stopped menstruating as well. But, adequate nutrition and a higher body weight must have done the trick because one morning when I showed up to partial the place was in a commotion.
Olivia had arrived that morning feeling a bit strange. Then she realized her period had returned. The nurse had gotten her the essential articles needed to deal with the situation but Olivia needed some different clothes now. A volunteer organization within the hospital was called and soon Olivia had a new set of clothes.
I was the only male in the group and felt a bit out of place. I think Olivia even said something like "Sorry about all of this girly stuff, Tharin."
I just laughed and told her I was fine and that I had two sisters.
All the young ladies in the group seemed so happy. This aura of happiness seemed to last the entire day. Everyone was happy for Olivia. I think Olivia was concerned that her menses might never return. She might want to have children one day. Her period returning was a sign of a healthy body and this made everyone in the group happy.
I talked to Bianca during lunch a few times about ballet. She had danced from a young age. She mentioned attending something called a Joffrey summer ballet intensive in her younger days. She said she'd eventually found work in a less well known ballet company. I believe she said she'd never been a principal dancer or a soloist. She'd been in the corps de ballet. But, even getting a full-time corps contract is huge. I didn't quite understand all of this. She said that she danced a lot but essentially never got to be the star. She said that eating disorders among dancers certainly existed although she couldn't say for sure how common they were.
During another group therapy session, Bianca was still focused on how she wasn't accomplishing much these days. Studying and working out sporadically just wasn't enough.
"You're a human being, Bianca. You're not a human-doing," someone said.
"Oh, God! I hate pithy little sayings like that!" barked Bianca. "That's like saying we should congratulate someone for getting out of bed each day."
I guess I took issue with that because I decided to speak up.
"Well, I agree the bit about being a human being and not a human-doing is kind of corny. But, I've had days where I wanted to stay in bed all day and it took a lot of effort just to get up and take a shower. Sometimes if I get out of bed and manage to carry the trash out or run one errand it's a good day for me. Depression is no joke," I said.
"Well, I value being a disciplined, hardworking person," Bianca replied. "What am I now? I don't want to be just some average college student."
"Well, I used to be the star high school wrestler," I replied. "I was athletic and well built. I don't like how I look most days now. And, I was a good college student but have spent most of my adult life being a cashier. I feel like an abject failure most of the time."
Bianca just stared at me for a while. Then I asked, "Do you think I'm a failure?"
"No, of course not," she said. "I think you've had to deal with a lot of shit you didn't ask for."
"Why can't you be that kind to yourself, Bianca?" someone asked.
"I don't know," Bianca replied as she began to cry.
After her tears subsided a bit she continued, "In my family you never really relaxed or had fun. Even reading a book just for pleasure was unheard of. And, something like taking an afternoon nap would have been unthinkable," she said.
"You're an adult now. Do whatever the hell you want!" someone suggested.
One day at lunch Gabrielle told Bianca she had a dance pole at home and that she thought Bianca might enjoy it.
"You mean like a stripper pole?" asked Bianca.
"Well, I prefer to call it a dance pole, but yeah. It's actually pretty cool and I get to combine some dance and acrobatics and it's a fun way to work out," replied Gabrielle.
"I never realized you could have your own pole at home. I'm sorry I sounded judgmental. I bet it is a lot of fun," said Bianca.
Then some of the girls started talking about how cute figure skaters were. Bianca agreed that some of the male skaters were indeed cute. A couple of the girls had actually been competitive figure skaters themselves in their younger days. With all of the talk about male figure skaters going on I started sulking and groaning.
"What's wrong, Tharin? Are you jealous?" Katie asked.
"No," I lied, "It's just that last week you were all talking about how hot fire fighters are and now this week it's figure skaters."
"Oh, Tharin, we think you're cute too," said Kelly. They all smiled at me including Bianca. That made me feel better.
"So, what do you look for in a woman, Tharin?" asked Katie.
"I don't know," I said feeling embarrassed by the topic.
"Well boobs or butt or what?" she pressed. I refused to answer.
"Well, if you ask me what I look for in a man I can tell you instantly," she said while snapping her fingers for emphasis.
Earlier in group Allison from Idaho had admitted that she'd met a young professor at a coffee shop recently and had slept with him a couple of times. This, of course, did not go over well with the group therapist.
Maggie, on the other hand, was a twenty year-old woman who claimed she'd never been kissed. She wasn't really concerned about it though and figured it would happen some day when the time was right.
Maggie didn't like that her parents talked so much about exercise and eating healthy. She wanted them to stop such talk around her which I thought seemed reasonable. But, the therapist said that wasn't fair to her parents. The parents weren't directing comments at Maggie. They just happened to talk a lot about exercise and health. The therapist told Maggie she shouldn't expect her parents to walk around on egg shells being afraid they might say the wrong thing. Then I felt embarrassed because the therapist seemed to be saying I was totally wrong.
When we first met Bianca in Problem Solving group, the social worker asked Bianca his usual questions like "What's your diagnosis?" and "Why do you do that?" He also asked fun questions like "Do you have any piercings or tattoos?" Bianca had no piercings or tattoos but was thinking of getting a yin yang tattoo to remind her to seek balance in life.
The therapist was interested in Bianca's family dynamic with the overbearing parents. He wanted to make sure that she was having an adult relationship with her parents with good communication and clear boundaries. He was also interested in the thoughts, beliefs, and perceptions leading to her unhealthy behaviors.
One Friday afternoon at the end of programming Bianca asked me if I wanted to perhaps catch a movie and then have dinner afterward.
"I know this is kind of short notice," she said, "but would you be interested in going to a movie and having dinner with me?"
I didn't really have to give it much thought. How often in my life was I going to get the chance to dine with a real ballerina? Plus, she really was a sweet person so I fought my inclination to say no and agreed to an evening out with her.
I picked her up at her motel that evening. I don't recall what movie we saw. I think it was a comedy and we laughed a lot. Occasionally she would reach over and hold my hand for a while. After the movie Bianca wanted Chinese food so we went to a buffet.
"You okay?" she asked before we got out of the car.
"I've been here before and it didn't go so well," I said,"I got overwhelmed by all of the choices."
"Well, why don't you have a couple of appetizers like crab rangoon or spring rolls or dumplings. And, maybe a couple of main dishes," she offered.
"Well, I'm sure I'd like dumplings so maybe I'll try those," I said, "And, some fried rice and maybe one of the chicken dishes."
"And, we have to have egg rolls," she said.
"Yes, of course," I agreed.
Bianca helped guide me through the buffet. I felt a little embarrassed having her help me like I was a child but it was nice nonetheless. We enjoyed our food and talked a bit while eating.
"My sister took a modern dance class when she was a little girl," I said, "I remember her having a black leotard."
"Oh, cool. Modern dance is nice because it's not as rigid as ballet," said Bianca.
"So, are you getting much out of the partial program?" I asked.
She got kind of quiet and paused like she was considering whether to tell me something or not.
"I almost binged last night," she said quietly.
She had been feeling a little more down than usual the night before. She'd talked to her mom on the phone who wondered if she was cured yet and was going to get back to school and get on with her life. This, of course, had upset Bianca deeply. Treatment isn't that simple. One does not go to treatment and get cured. If one is fortunate she gains some insight into her issues and better ways of coping with emotional distress. But, no one is ever cured per se.
Bianca reacted by hanging up and going and buying some cookies and chips. She returned to the hotel room and was ready to eat it all. But, some small voice inside of her told her to stay strong. She knew her parents and a lot of people didn't really understand eating disorders and she was going to have accept that if she planned to get through all of this. So, she threw all of the junk food in the trash. She went for a long walk to clear her head and then came back and took a hot shower and felt better.
"Quite the waste of money, huh?" she said.
"No, it would have been worse if you'd eaten it all. Then you'd have really felt bad and ended up purging it all," I said, "The few dollars you threw away on junk food is nothing in the grand scheme of things. I'm proud of you for being strong and using your new coping skills."
"Thanks," she said, "I guess I'm kind of proud of myself too."
I wanted to know more about her ballet experience.
"When I started with the ballet company I was told by the artistic director I was a little pudgy and should lose five pounds," she said.
"What? Pudgy?" I said in disbelief.
"Oh yeah. They have an onsite nutritionist and give lip service to being healthy but it's kind of a mixed message because they also make it clear you need to look a certain way," she said.
"It's not all their fault," she continued, "Ballet is a visual art form and the male principal dancers do need to be able to lift their female partners. So, you can't just say anything goes when it comes to body shape and size in the world of ballet."
To stay thin Bianca had eaten a lot of rice cakes and fruit which was interesting because I too had eaten a lot of rice cakes and fruit when watching my weight for wrestling.
After we finished our meal I drove her back to her motel.
"You want to come in with me and talk some more?" she asked.
"Sure," I said.
She had a simple room with two beds. "Why didn't you stay at the Sheraton downtown?" I asked.
"Hey, I'm not some diva you know," she said, "Just a humble ballerina. All I need is a bed and a shower and I'm good."
"So, what do you think of Baryshnikov?" I asked.
"is that the only only ballet dancer you know?" she asked while laughing a bit.
"Yes, he is," I said.
"Well, he was and is amazing," she said, "And, he is a total hunk!"
A frowned and sighed a bit.
"Are you jealous?" she asked.
"Maybe," I replied.
She just smiled. "Let me teach you some ballet," she said.
She showed me the me the so-called five basic positions. In position five it looked a though her feet were pointing in opposite directions. She then said she was going to plie and did what looked like knee bends. Then I think she did something called an arabesque and finished off with a pirouette. Amazing!
Then it was my turn. I am not a flexible person. I was reasonably flexible in my wrestling days but that was long ago. She was patient and kind and just had me try the first two positions and plie a couple of times.
"You know in the movie Serpico I think Al Pacino mentions the first ballet position and someone named Isadora Duncan," I said.
"Cool, I'll have to check that out," she said, "You should watch the film Mao's Last Dancer if you get the chance. Billy Elliot and Black Swan are good too."
"Hey, I just remembered I watched Nutcracker: The Motion Picture," I said.
"Oh my God!" she said, "I always wanted to be Clara but never got the chance."
"But, they need snowflakes and flowers and dolls too, right?" I asked.
"Yeah, I know. I wanted to be Clara though," she said.
Then she asked me to dance with her. Not ballet but just a slow dance. She played some music on her MP3 player. I put my arms around her waist and she put hers around my neck. Soon her head was resting on my shoulder as we swayed to the music.
After a while she said, "Show me a wrestling move."
Since she was already in my arms I said I would show her a bear bug. I squeezed her tightly around the waist at the lower back and tackled her gently onto the bed. She laughed and then lifted her head up to mine and kissed me gently.
"Stay with me tonight," she said.
"You mean in the spare bed?" I asked.
"No, you can sleep with me," she said.
"You mean just sleep or something else?" I asked.
"Maybe just sleep or maybe something more," she replied.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I said.
"You don't like thirty year-old ballerinas?" she inquired.
"I prefer gymnasts," I said smiling.
Bianca rolled her eyes and smiled. I tried to explain myself.
"I just prefer my own bed and sticking to my own routine in an obsessive-compulsive sort of way and I think if we ended up getting intimate it might not be such a good thing," I said, "And, even though I'm supposedly healthier now I actually perceive myself as being fat and unattractive at this point in treatment and am not exactly feeling manly."
"I understand," she said, "i'm not exactly feeling sexy right now either. I just feel really close to you. I feel like we've created this bond during treatment."
"Yeah, me too," I said.
"Maybe you could lie here with me for a while until I fall asleep," she said.
"Okay," I said.
Bianca took a sleeping pill and put on her pajamas. We lay down together in a spoon position and soon she was asleep. When I was sure she was asleep I crept quietly out of her room and went home.
Bianca finished partial hospital with some new coping skills and with a new belief that she didn't have to be perfect. She was still thinking of becoming a physical therapist but also considered becoming a yoga or Pilates instructor which would allow her to still be physical but in a different way free of the demands of being a professional ballerina.
She did, in fact, become a physical therapist. She's even worked with some dancers needing rehab after injuries. She stays active and can even dance herself just for pleasure and without being a perfectionist about it. She eventually got married and had two children. She has found a peace and joy that even the spotlight would have never brought her.
FADE IN:
INT. KATE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
KATE and THARIN are sitting on the couch relaxing after the wrestling meet. She sits cuddled next to him with her head on his shoulder.
THARIN
So, where's the coach?
KATE
I think Dad was going to get some food with friends.
THARIN
Good. Maybe we'll be alone for a while.
KATE
Your match was really exciting tonight. What was that move you used to get the takedown in the first period?
THARIN
It's called an arm drag.
KATE
Show me how to do it.
THARIN
Okay.
Kate and Tharin stand up on the carpet near the couch facing each other.
THARIN
Put your hands on my shoulders.
Kate places her hands on Tharin's shoulders.
THARIN
(performing the wrestling move as he explains it)
Okay, I just take my right hand and reach across diagonally and grab the back of your right arm and then drag you in front of me while I step behind you and lock my hands around your waist.
Kate reaches back with her right hand and caresses Tharin's head which is above her right shoulder.
THARIN
Okay, my opponents don't usually do that.
KATE
(laughing)
Yeah, I should hope not.
Kate turns to face Tharin, still encircled in his arms.
KATE
Show me another move.
THARIN
(performing the wrestling move as he explains it)
Okay, I clasp my arms tightly around your waist locking my hands at the lower back like this. It's called a body lock or a bear hug.
KATE
Hmm. I like this. Now what happens?
THARIN
I take you to the mat.
Tharin backs Kate slowly over to the couch. He pushes her gently onto the couch and rests on top of her. She wraps her legs around his body.
KATE
(smiling)
What's this called?
THARIN
(smiling)
I think it's called the Saturday night ride.
COACH SMITH (off-screen)
Good evening.
KATE
(pushing Tharin off of her onto the floor)
Shit!
Tharin sits up on the carpet while Kate remains seated on the couch. We now see Coach Smith standing by the doorway to the living room.
COACH SMITH
What's going on here?
THARIN
I was just showing Kate some wrestling moves.
COACH SMITH
Looks like you were going for the pin.
THARIN
(smiling)
Well, that is the goal in a wrestling match.
COACH SMITH
(glaring at Tharin)
It's getting late.
THARIN
(laughing nervously)
Yeah, I guess I should get going.
KATE
I'll walk you out.
COACH SMITH
I think he can find his car by himself.
KATE
Oh for God's sake, Dad!
COACH SMITH
Fine. Just make it quick.
KATE
I promise we'll only make out for fifteen minutes.
COACH SMITH
Damn it, Kate!
KATE
Jeez, I was just kidding. Fine, I'll make it quick.
Kate and Tharin exit the living room. Coach Smith is left standing alone.
COACH SMITH
(shaking his head and smiling)
Damn teenagers.
EXT. STANDING NEAR THARIN'S CAR - NIGHT
THARIN
Thanks for coming to watch me wrestle tonight.
KATE
Of course. I love to watch you wrestle. Although I do wonder sometimes if you had to choose between me and wrestling what you would choose.
Tharin has a concerned look on his face.
KATE
(laughing)
Oh babe, I was just kidding. I would never ask you to give up wrestling. I love you.
THARIN
I love you too. But, I think your dad hates me.
KATE
No, he likes you. He just likes to act tough sometimes. He understands though. He was a teenager once too you know.
THARIN
I'm not so sure.
Kate and Tharin both laugh.
KATE
Don't worry. I'm sure everything will be fine. He'll probably just pull you aside after practice tomorrow night and make you run sprints for an hour.
THARIN
Oh God! I hope not.
KATE
Just kidding, babe. I guess I better go back inside before the old man has a fit.
THARIN
Yeah, I better go home and get some sleep.
Tharin pulls Kate to him and they kiss good night.
KATE
I love you.
THARIN
I love you too.
Tharin gets into his car. Kate walks toward the house as Tharin pulls into the street and drives away.
KATE
(turning back to watch Tharin's car disappear)
I'm going to marry that stud some day.
FADE OUT.
THE END
