Starving on my honeymoon
Sunday 15th March 2009
There's nothing like a good plate of food to quieten down your wedding guests. For the past 20 minutes, the room at Rosspark Hotel, Ballymena, had been filled with the excited babble of voices. But now, as the smell of roast turkey wafted under our noses, the room fell silent as everyone got stuck in. Well, everyone except one person.
Sat on the top table next to my new husband, Phillip, there was only one thing that mattered to me. That not a morsel of food passed my lips. I'd already managed to get through the vegetable soup without eating, and I wouldn't weaken now.
'This is gorgeous,' Phillip, now 25, smiled. 'I'm glad we chose the turkey.'
'Me too,' I lied, cutting it into pieces as if I was about to eat some of it.
I'd loved planning everything else for our special day, but the meal itself had filled me with dread. If my skeletal 6st body wasn't a clue, then the fact my wedding dress would have fitted a 9-year-old must have told our guests I was anorexic. I'd survived the past seven months on a daily diet of five green beans and a teaspoon of salsa. But the wedding hadn't made me anorexic. It had started when I was 19 and I weighed a slender 8st 4lb. One day, I'd started skipping meals and going to the gym more. I'd liked it when people noticed how thin I'd got. But as the months passed and I lost more weight, my mum, Edna Cushenan, 52, was worried sick.
'Have you eaten anything today?' she'd ask time and time again.
'I'm just a walking problem, aren't I?' I'd scream.
It felt like all anyone wanted to talk to me about was food. After six months, Mum insisted
I saw the doctor.
'Mum's just fussing,' I told him. 'I do eat, just not when she's around.'
To my relief, he believed me. Now, no matter how hard Mum tried, no amount of doctors' appointments or special meals could change the obsession that had gripped my life.
To be thin. Even when I was at work as a legal secretary, it was all I thought about. Why would my wedding day be any different? So as Phillip wolfed down his dinner, I sat there pushing my food round my plate.
'I'm going to talk to people,' I said.
I managed to mingle my way out of the strawberry pavlova. Thanks to a few tactical toilet trips, and some time out to rearrange my strapless dress, I didn't eat a thing. Then, it was time for the disco.Didn't my tummy rumble as I danced the night away? No. My body was so used to not eating, I didn't ever feel hungry. But later as we arrived in our honeymoon
suite to see the big bed and bubbling Jacuzzi, I clutched my clothes to me, trying not to let Phillip see my protruding hip bones.
'You're beautiful,' he said.
I certainly didn't feel it. And you can forget fireworks on our wedding night. I just didn't have the energy.
By the time we arrived at the Katathani resort in Phuket, Thailand, two days later, all I could think about was how to carry on my strict routine.
'I won't be able to get Nescafé here,' I worried. 'And they don't know how to prepare the veg like I do.'
The stunning views of palm trees and perfect blue sea barely registered. That night, the waiter looked at me strangely as we ordered our dinner.
'A Thai green curry for you,' he said to Phillip. 'And a Pepsi Max for you?'
Why did everyone have such a problem with what I ate?Phillip did his best to tempt me.
'This is delicious,' he said, offering me his fork. 'Try it.'
I shook my head firmly.
Phillip knew it would only turn into an argument if he pushed it.The next day, as I lay by the pool in my child-sized bikini, I didn't care about the stares from the other guests, or the fact that my bikini was so baggy, I had to hold it up when I walked. And as the days passed, we soon got into a routine. Phillip tucking into a breakfast of fruit and yogurt, cereal, then a fry-up. Me sipping Pepsi Max. Phillip swimming in the pool. Me on a sunbed wrapped in
a towel, shivering. After a few days, I was pulling on my bikini one morning, when Phillip
broke down in tears.
'You're so sick,' he sobbed. 'Please get better.'
'Stop going on about it,' I begged. 'We're on honeymoon.'
I hated seeing the man I loved so worried. But I just couldn't stop. Desperate for Phillip to enjoy the sights, the next day, I forced myself to go for a walk, but I couldn't really tell you what the view was like, whether the beaches were busy, or the sea was warm, because I can't remember. Was it my body's way of blocking out the awful memories? Or the fact that my starving body was starting to shut down? Who knows. What I did know was that if one more person stared at me, I'd explode. At last, I'd made it through a week.
'Only five more days until we get to go home,' I said to Phillip.
As I saw his eyes fill with disappointment, I felt so guilty for wishing away our honeymoon.
But all I wanted was to be back at home, where I was in control. By the time Mum and Dad picked us up at Belfast airport two weeks later, I'd eaten two slices of pineapple and drunk gallons of Pepsi Max. I weighed just 5st 2lb.Mum burst into tears.
'What's happened to you?' she sobbed, terror in her eyes.
I still couldn't see the state I was in. Until I saw our honeymoon photos.
'Oh my God!' I gasped. 'I look awful.'
It was a shock. But at the same time, the voice inside me was telling me how well I'd done.
And I wasn't about to go and undo all my good work, so I stuck to my diet of coffee and green beans.
Somehow, I kept on working and dragging myself to the gym. I stopped washing my hair because it came out, and my skin was so tight against my bones, I developed bed sores.
As I lay in bed one night, unable to stop shivering, Phillip held me.
'Please let me help you,' he begged. 'I'll do anything.'
'I'm fine,' I insisted.
Somehow, I managed to exist like that until two months after the honeymoon, when I was at work one day, and Mum and Phillip turned up.
'What are you doing here?' I asked.
'We're taking you to hospital,' Phillip said.
'I-I'm at work,' I stammered.
'I've cleared it,' he insisted.
'There's nothing wrong with me,' I snapped, but they stood firm.
I was hysterical as we drove to Holywell Hospital in Antrim to see a psychiatrist.
'We'd like to admit you,' he said.
'No!' I screamed. Tears streamed down my face, as my screams echoed down the corridor.
'If you come willingly, we won't have to section you,' the doctor explained. 'If we section you, it's up to us when you go home.'
'I don't want to lose you,' Phillip begged. 'Do this for me.'
I nodded, feeling a spark of hope.
'When you reach 6st, you'll be discharged,' the doctor explained.
I was 5st 2lb and if I wanted to go home, I had no choice but to eat. But something had changed inside me. Finally, I wanted to get better. The next morning, I ate a kiwi fruit and some yogurt. It was more than I'd had in weeks. I hated the feeling of food in my stomach, but I lived with it. Slowly, I started to see how much of my life I'd wasted. My wedding. My honeymoon. Not to mention the pain I'd caused the people who loved me. Phillip, Mum, Dad and my sister, Joanne, 19, all came in to visit.
'I'm so sorry,' I apologised. 'I've put you all through so much.'
'It's OK,' Mum said, with a teary smile. 'As long as you're getting better.'
Seeing the hope in her eyes made me vow to stick at it. And I did so well that, a month later, I was let out on day release.
Phillip and I went shopping in Belfast and back at the hospital, I had tuna salad while Phillip had chicken and chips. As we sat there, eating our food at the hospital table, we both knew what a special moment this was.It was the first meal we'd had together in seven years.
It felt amazing. But it wasn't as amazing as it felt to be back at home again two weeks later.
With the support of Phillip, my family and a counsellor, I'm proud to say I now weigh 7st.
But my illness has left its mark. I've developed osteoporosis, and after not having periods for five years, doctors can't yet tell me whether I'll be able to have children. Even now, when I look at my honeymoon pictures, I can't believe how awful I looked. My memories of the trip are still so hazy that Phillip's planning to take me back there on a second honeymoon.And this time, I certainly won't be starving on my sunbed.