Dope Boy just received a seven year bit on an aggravated assault charge. Short in stature with a hooked nose, he can easily be mistaken for a Jim Hansen puppet extra or an aging Coho salmon. To live up to his ballah status -to which the playboy bunny on his neck certifies him as such- he has his mom, a school cafeteria wage laborer, put obscene amounts of money on his books, so he is always ordering big and hard on commissary days.
In Big Boy style, sometimes he will go pick up his lunch or dinner tray -prepared by under-paid hard workers just like his own mother- and instead of sharing it with other hungry inmates, he simply dumps the whole thing in the garbage, all while exclaiming such filth as: "I don't need that food, I gots my own store" or "Man! Players don't eat that shit." When he's not making his mom pay $7 a pop to three way call his girlfriend, just to let her know how big of a ho, slut, or whore she is, he runs around looking for anyone that will give him the littlest bit of attention.
But if you observe this prick long enough -lets say, three weeks- you will find that he has a very big secret. If you pay attention after every breakfast and lunch, when the noise level from clean-up is still very high, dope boy makes his way to the toilet. At night, after eating a large $10 -$15 spread of ramen noodles, chips, tuna, nacho cheese, and mayonnaise, Dope Boy once again finds his way to the toilet behind his cell door. Its after that, that in staying up late you will hear someone throwing up a minimum of three times throughout the nights duration.
Dope Boy -self-described player, ballah, convict, drug dealer- suffers from Bulimia Nervosa, an eating disorder that effects millions of others. So why nothing can, nor should, justify his abusive and ludicrous behavior towards others, especially those he supposedly loves like his own mother and girlfriend, I cant help but to feel saddened when like clockwork, with the other inmates well asleep, he forces his two fingers down his throat to purge himself of much needed food, all furthering his self-hatred and self-destruction.
I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it will be if he ever decides to allow out his mouth the one thing he needs more than anything, not food, but a plea. An "I'm tired of hurting, can someone please help me."
I think I was so intrigued with Dope Boy and his eating disorder because it made me realize that even the people who act the hardest sometimes have the largest cracks in them. It also isn't unusual for people to beg and plead their family and friends for commissary money to fund bad drug habits, but Dope Boy just very well might be the first one to, instead, fund an eating disorder. I also couldn't help but to me moved by the fact that this seemingly and outwardly aggressive and mean person actually hated himself as much or more than others... but of course doesn't this culture force eating disorders on all of us. For the third world it's the not having anything to eat disorder, while for the first it's consuming and wasting an uncountable amount of food. An as individuals we all suffer from our eating disorders, and by that I mean to draw from the much larger dysfunctions this culture forces on us.
When I wrote this, I also had no idea that at the same exact time i was criticizing Dope Boy's eating habits, i myself was forming an eating disorder that would put my body, brain, and feelings through all sorts of turmoil not just while i was locked up, but even once I got out. It's sometimes so hard to see your dysfunctions and disorders all while their trying their best to kill you, but the goal is to not let them. Don't let this fucked culture get the best of you. Don't let it kill you.