There was a time in my life when I struggled with an eating disorder. God broke me free from it and I recovered from the mental anguish that bulimia creates. I was able to get my weight under control, but only for a short time. Five years later I was living and working in London and booked a fantastic job in Majorca, an island off the coast of Spain. This is an excerpt from a letter to my mother from that trip:
Saturday, June 27:
~Today has been one of the biggest nightmares I could have ever imagined. It hurts just as much to recall it and write it down as it did to experience it, but here goes: The client asked me to leave a few hours ago because he said my face is heavier than it was when I cast for the job. He said they booked me on the next flight back to London leaving at 5:50 p.m. (It’s now 2:30 p.m.) When I tried to tell him my weight was the same as it was at the audition he became aggressive and said I was being “lippy” and he just wanted me out of there! I don’t know what I’m feeling at this stage. I’m hurt, disappointed, and lonely. I don’t have anyone to fend for me. The agency is closed, I can’t contact my booker—and what would I say anyway?
To top it off, I was witnessing to the makeup artist this morning and even now she is siding with them. I know I’m not thin and bony like the other model, Sandra, but I was told I was being booked because I’m sporty. They already asked if I would dive off of a 50 foot cliff. Seriously? I did that in Hawaii! (Ok, so it was about 35 feet, but what’s the difference, of course I’d try it!) But let’s face it . . . I’m a basketball player, swimmer, runner, and a woman . . . but I’m not a twig! Okay, I’ve got to settle down a bit, I’m getting too defensive. I guess I’ve always put up my dukes when I’ve gotten hurt, and Mom, this really hurts. At this point, I don’t even want to stay here with these people. I just want to wake up from this nightmare and be back home in London. ~
Wow! Revisiting this still stirs raw emotions in me. I remember crying over this and feeling so much shame. My body belongs to the Lord, who made me female—and all the highs and lows that sometimes come with being female. Fortunately, I’d made up my mind. I would not return to eating disorders. Instead, I turned to the Lord.
“In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears” (Psalm 18:6).
I found comfort in the One who made me female. Have you?
Rachel Lee Carter (C) 2010 Modeling Christ