At first, I tried to shake it off. I told myself they were just jealous, petty, irrelevant. But over time, their voices became louder than my own.
Before big shows, I started intermittent fasting — 36 hours at a time, surviving on black coffee and a handful of blueberries.
500 calories a day. That was my magic number.
If I went over, even by a little, panic would claw at my chest until I found a bathroom to purge it all out.
It didn’t matter if I was backstage surrounded by other girls or at a fancy dinner with photographers and agents — if I ate too much, I’d excuse myself, lock the stall, and bring it all back up.
At first it was every few days. Then it was every day.
Soon, I couldn't keep anything down without feeling disgusting. Dirty. Unworthy.
I stood on the scale every morning like it was a holy ritual.
45 kilograms.
I ran my fingers around my waist, now a terrifying 21 inches. I could almost wrap my hands completely around it. My ribs protruded like a broken xylophone under my skin. My hips jutted out. My face was sharp, hollow.
And people loved it.
"You're glowing, Brittany!"
"Your body is insane!"
"Model goals!"
If only they knew what it cost me.
Even Mom stopped telling me to lose weight. Instead, she smiled — a real, proud smile.
"Maintain this," she said, brushing my hair behind my ear during one of our rare dinners. "Just maintain this and Victoria's Secret will come knocking. You're so close, baby."
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I smiled and nibbled on a piece of lettuce.
---
One night after a shoot, I collapsed in the bathroom.
I had gone three days without eating. Just water and black coffee. My body gave out like a puppet with its strings cut.
I woke up with my head pressed against the cold marble tiles, my vision spinning.
I heard frantic knocking on the door.
"Brittany? Brittany, are you okay?" one of the makeup artists cried.
I coughed, wiping my mouth, and forced myself to my feet.
I had to be okay. I had to be perfect.
I opened the door, pasting on a bright smile.
"Sorry, low blood sugar," I lied. "I'm fine."
They believed me. Everyone always believed me.
