By Joseph Sutton-Holcomb
Winter 2012 Kaplan Award Winner
Fall, 7th grade: When I bought the T-shirt, I felt svelte, elated to fit in a size ‘M’ — plus, black is slimming.
Winter, sophomore year (college): It still fit when I threw it away. There were holes in each armpit and tiny cracks -webbed across the picture on the front. It was no longer wearable, but years of abuse had improved the image — a rendering of a starved old man with slumped shoulders — in a way Marilyn Manson’s apparel designers could never have anticipated.
Manson, an avid artist as well as musician, painted the old man himself. A banner across its back advertised his 2003 album “The Golden Age of Grotesque” in looping script. I’ve listened to that CD countless times since then, but when I walked into Hot Topic at the Tacoma Mall to buy the shirt — pretending all the while the woman trailing 15 feet behind me was not my mother — I had never heard his music.
Fall, 7th grade. several days later: I debuted my prize at John Sedgwick Jr. High, a school so abrasive the nubbins of the concrete walls would cut anyone who rubbed against them the wrong way. I wore violent red gel in my hair and covered my backpack in duct-tape, safety pins and sharpie sketches. I was a middle-class rebel with loving parents; a shining example of uncompromising individuality, trying to blend in.
Definition of “goth”: A contemporary subculture found in many countries. It began in England during the early 1980s as an offshoot of the post-punk music scene. Styles of dress within the subculture range from death-rock, punk, and Victorian style, most often with dark attire, makeup and hair.
Alternate definition: An attempt to outrage the aged by combining a perpetual bad mood with shocking apparel and music choices. Several clothing stores have commercialized this phenomenon; many of them can be found in the Tacoma Mall.
Fall, 5th grade: When knee injuries made soccer an exercise in futility, I spent recess in the library. I was the kid reading Steinbeck and Orwell four years before English teachers stuffed them down my throat. Because of the way I spoke, a girl once asked me if I was British, the query still — guiltily — makes me preen.
Spring, 5th grade: I made a few new friends. They were skinny, listened to hard rock, and didn’t talk or dress like me. I found them incredible; they swaggered through puberty. I’m still fascinated by people who make living seem effortlessness.
Late winter, 6th grade: Sophinn, a fellow student, called me a faggot and backhanded me into the pea gravel by the playground. I got up and tried to fight, but I didn’t know what I was doing. He laid me out again in a few seconds. He was thin and wiry and so fast.
6th grade, (after the fight): Visions of six-packs and vengeance danced in my head. When my father suggested, ever so gently, that we start hitting the gym, I didn’t hesitate.
Definition of alchemy: “A process by which paradoxical results are achieved or incompatible elements combined with no obvious rational explanation.”
Real-life example: The attempt to distill one’s essence into music, T-shirts and a sculpted stomach.
Fall, 7th grade: I became a sort of reverse person; existing only in the probing eyes of 900 teenagers. Sometimes, at the gym, I would lift weights until I had to stumble to the bathroom and be sick, watching for my father’s shoes through the gap under the stall.
Spring, 7th grade: I joined the track and field team. Sophinn was on the team, too. I fought him during practice once, sitting on top of him and rubbing his face in the muddy field until the coach pulled me off. I remember my teammates cheering.
I started weighing myself in the locker room, and at home: 160 lbs, give or take. I’d never weighed that much, but muscle peeked through the fat, thrilling me. I felt so tough.
Spring, 7th grade: I got in trouble in geography class for calling Kris a eunuch. He didn’t know what the word meant, but could tell it wasn’t a compliment. He waited for me outside of class that day, and we fought.
Later that day: The dean suspended us both for three days, and my parents decided it was time for a change. Washington state law allows students to attend public school outside of their home district. Soon, I was riding the ferry to school on Vashon Island.
Fall, 8th grade: My tough-guy attitude didn’t hold water there. They were intrigued at first; I made some waves when I showed up for a tour of McMurry Middle School in my Marilyn Manson T-shirt, but goth culture was just a novelty to them; many treated Abercrombie & Fitch like a place of worship. After a couple months, I didn’t have a soul to talk to, but I kept exercising.
Definition of anorexia nervosa: An eating disorder characterized by an obsessive fear of gaining weight and a distorted body image. It most commonly affects white teenagers from wealthy or middle-class backgrounds concerned about social acceptance through appearance. Symptoms include apparent loss of appetite, obsession with food, and compulsive exercise.
Sometime during 6th grade: I came home from school and attacked a box of crackers. My mom told me to stop feeding my face and finish my chores.
Response from super model Kate Moss when asked if she had any mottos: “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”
5th grade, the whole year: When one of my classmates began prodding my stomach, I started sucking it in to look thinner. But preteens are keenly observant; the ruse didn’t last long.
Early spring, 8th grade: I stopped eating meals with my parents, opting for sparkling water and ramen in my room instead. If you drink enough water, you feel full.
Mid-spring, 8th grade: I fell down walking out of health class. Extended food deprivation lowers your blood pressure, which can result in short periods of disorientation and dizziness. I told my teacher it was a side effect of my allergy medication. I don’t take allergy medication.
Backhanded compliment from an upperclassman, spring, 8th grade: “I always thought you we’re kind of chubby, man, But you’re pretty thin; you look better.”
I swelled with pride at this; 130 pounds, and I knew I was on the right track.
Supplementary information about anorexia nervosa: Although purging through vomiting or excessive exercise is most commonly associated with bulimia, people diagnosed with anorexia will sometimes alternate between fasting, binging, and purging.
First Stanza of “Man that you Fear,” by Marilyn Manson: “Ants are in the sugar / muscles atrophy / we’re on the other side, the screen is us and we’re TV / Spread me open, sticking to my pointy ribs…”
Image on the front of his album “Mechanical Animals”: A rendering of Manson as an emaciated woman with no genitalia. It captivated me. I would stare at the porcelain ridges of its ribs. In retrospect, I think the picture is a grotesque attempt to subvert gender stereotypes, and — let’s be honest — get attention.
Supplementary information about anorexia nervosa: It is 10 times more likely to occur in females than males. Because of this, it is often thought to be an exclusively female disorder.
Late spring, 8th grade: McMurry Middle School hosts a field trip to Wild Waves Amusement Park. I had enough money to pay for the candy bar, but didn’t want anyone to know I bought it. I got about 20 feet out of the door of before the security guard tackled me. The handcuffs clacked against the bones in my wrists.
That morning, after breakfast and before school: I vomited in the toilet and stepped on the scale: 116 pounds.
Statistical analysis: A male who is 5-foot-9 and 116 pounds has a body mass index of 17. A BMI below 18.5 is considered “underweight.”
Between classes, earlier that day: Hanna wrote, “Have a great summer!” in my yearbook. In parentheses below she added, “You’re skinny, in a GOOD way.”
Winter, 7th grade: While driving me back from the gym, my father told me I looked good. He was impressed when we stopped at the store and I asked for “health food.” “You used to be kind of a chow hound,” he said.
Wild Waves, several hours after my capture: They slapped me with a $200 fine and banned me for a year. When my mother came to pick me up, she asked about the vomit in the toilet. We were on the way to the therapist’s office, but I didn’t know that yet. She pulled off the road, and we both cried for what seemed like hours.
Winter, junior year (college): A legion of deadlines approaches. My eating habits become more erratic; this happens when I’m overwhelmed. I spend an extra 30 minutes at the gym to compensate. When I’m there, there’s no stress; only sweaty bliss. I am 5-foot-10 and weigh 144 pounds, clothes included, on a good day, putting my BMI in the 23rd percentile for people my age. The health community places me at low end of what it calls the “acceptable range.”
I don’t listen to much hard rock anymore, but I still wear the T-shirts to the gym. They don’t make me feel tough; they make me feel fragile. I think that’s why I keep them around.