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[Silke Lance]

Biographical information

Article written by
Lori Gottlieb


Q - Matt Hayes: Give some information on yourself.
A - Lori Gottlieb: I'm skinny.

There, I said it. Taking after my father's small-framed side of the family, I've never been fat by either medical or cultural standards. Yet when I was 11 years old, I decided that I was fat. Not just that I looked fat, but that I was fat. In plain mathematics, Lori = fat. So when asked to give some information on myself, I'd announce, quite matter-of-factly, "I'm fat." Far as I was concerned, what else was there to say? (Except I wouldn't have said "factly" because it sounded too close to "fat" -- the very pronouncement of which I was certain would magically turn me into more of an enormous, elephant-sized, 4'8" preteen than I already believed my tiny self to be.)

Back then -- during my anorexia, my hospitalization, my descent to under fifty pounds -- never did it occur to me that years later, I'd describe myself as skinny -- and mean it. Or more important, that I'd consider my physique to be just one aspect of who I am, and not even the number one characteristic -- or numbers 2, 3, 4, 5 or 7 or 10.

Well, okay, maybe 10.

But places one through nine on the list include, in no particular order, my personality (just this side of whacko, but in a good way, I'm told), day-to-day experiences (my poor shrink, who has the patience of Ghandi, dutifully listens to these), professional work (film and television series development; starting medical school; publishing "Stick Figure," my anorexia diaries; writing for magazines and newspapers), health (generally good, minus the osteoporosis from my anorexia days, and mood swings on PMS days), important personal relationships ("personal" in the sense of "personally" fulfilling), and other trivialities I won't bore you to tears with.

And then, of course, somewhere down the list, we'd get to the fact that I happen to be skinny and 5'2" and have brown hair and hazel eyes. And that some days, I look in the mirror and marvel at what a hottie I am; others I wonder at how hideous I've become overnight, like Kafka's protagonist realizing he's morphed into a cockroach; and most I pay very little attention, part my hair on a different side, and hope nobody detects that it hasn't been washed in days. Skinny or fat? Hadn't noticed. It would take years to practice this kind of perspective.

Yet even as I sit at my computer, accidentally spilling chocolate chip cookie crumbs onto the my keyboard, I remember feeling as though this same cookie might have seemed as lethal to me as Kryptonite to Superman. I remember looking at the rail-thin actresses I worked with in Hollywood and asking myself, "Am I…" and "Could I possibly be…" that three-letter f-word. I remember being on rounds in medical school, and hearing a 16-year-old girl tell her friend, emaciated from cancer, "You're so lucky, you don't even have to diet or exercise to stay so skinny." And from my book tour around the U.S., I still hear the voices of the thousands who asked me, "Will I always be this way?

"I don't think so," I'd usually say. Because while I'm almost certain that the answer is no -- you won't always be this way, you'll go entire months not weighing yourself and entire years not obsessing about food -- I can only speak from my own experience. Yes, people like me have made eating disorders distant blips on our personal timelines, and no, I'm no expert. But by telling my tale, I hope to lay some popcorn (buttered, salted, and non-dietetic) on the windy but rewarding path to recovery.