I have a sculpture of Julia's nude torso sitting in the middle of my basement. It's one of my creations from an art class I took last summer. Now Julia is 23 years old, about five feet, seven inches tall; she weighs 137 pounds. These are vital statistics, not becuase Julia is a model, but because she nearly died of anorexia seven years ago. 

Today, when I go to interview Julia and other women who belong to her support group, she meets me munching on a cracker. She is very attractive, with a school-girl charm, full, rosy cheeks and small hands with little dimples. 

"I still had my cheeks, even when I weighed 94 pounds. I probably looked gross, but I had the flattest stomach, so I didn't care," she says.

Julia motions for me to sit. We are in an art studio, and it is strange seeing clay sculptures all around, interspersed with gaunt faces of teenage girls. 

I'm especially shocked when Julia introduces me to Judy, a girl of about 16. If you squint a little, Judy might look naturally thin, but her pale, sallow cheeks and brittle hair tell otherwise. Judy also suffers from anorexia. She had it under control for a while, but suffered a relapse two months ago. 

"I was 93 pounds when I first started treatment," Judy says. "Then, after they started feeding me all this food, I started gaining pounds. When I hit 97, I got worried, because I was nearing three digits. I didn't like that. You know?" 

Actually, I do know. I'm not anorexic or bulimic, but a million other girls and I all know the torment of worrying whether we will be able to fit into a bikini or a slinky red dress, all the while wishing for a figure like Niki Taylor or Kate Moss. All of us know what diet shakes taste like and the feeling of trying to walk ourselves thin, but most of us give up after the first sip or after the first half mile. For most of us, our obsession with weight ends there; we worry and we diet, but that's it. For most of us, it's hard to imagine people who would ruin their lives and literally almost kill themselves, just to look like some model or athletic superstar. 

Starving for the perfect bod 

Sunita, a 20-year-old high school senior, who suffers from both anorexia and bulimia, begins to tell her story. "You know that little Russian pairs skater? When I first saw her skate in the 1988 Winter Olympics, I heard she was barely five feet tall, but weighed 84 pounds." 

"You mean Ekaterina Gordeyeva," chimes in a shy 16-year-old, Hye Kyung. 

"Yeah. I was 14, two years younger than her, about an inch taller, but about 20 pounds heavier. During the six years since then, I've been hospitalized seven times and relapsed twice. I've lost two years of school becuase I was in and out of the hospital so much. I'm not in high school at age 20 because I'm stupid; it's because I was sick." 

Hye Kyung speaks up again. "I missed school a lot too. But my problem has more to do with control than with looking like a figure skater. I'm so proud because I can control what I eat. Like, my friends are always saying how they can't control themselves if there's ice cream, chocolate or whatever on the table. I just don't eat it because I'm feeling fat all the time." 

I look her up and down. There isn't an ounce of fat on her body anywhere, or on anyone else in the room, for that matter. 

"I love food. I can't imagine not eating altogether, so I just ate potato chips and chocolate, tacos, anything. Then I'd throw it up in my garbage can," says Christina, speaking of her bulimia. "I think it's like the more well-off you are, the more food you have, and the more you worry about losing weight." 

Julia explains just what is going on here. "Occasionally, we all look at an overweight person and say to ourselves that we can't let ourselves gain so much weight, but anorexics and bulimics don't concern themselves with what they think of other people. They're more concerned with what other people think of them." 

Eating disorders are more socially and environmentally influenced than anything else. The desire to become thinner usually isn't an idea that just pops into a girl's head. You'll almost always find something hiding behind an eating disorder--a break-up with a boyfriend, failures in school or the pressure of high expectations from parents lying behind the start of an eating disorder.

Girls are taught by society, including their families and the media, that thin is wonderful. Guys from a young age are taught to be big and buff, and although males, too, suffer from eating disorders, that number is much smaller than the number of women. 

"You just have to look at things in a different light," says Julia, speaking of recovery. She was first shaken up when a close friend died of dehydration and complications of anorexia. "My recovery really started picking up as soon as I got into posing for art classes. I was able to appreciate my body more, because I could see the transformation of an ugly piece of clay into a beautiful body--my body. After that, it became easier to look at myself and not think `fat.' Then I began eating regularly. Getting thinner is so minor compared to the negatives that come with eating disorders. I've suffered and I've watched a friend die." 

It's ten at night and the meeting ends. As I drive home, I reflect on the people I've talked to. There are so many people in this world who will do anything for even a grain of rice, but here we are in our society, brainwashed by the covers of fashion magazines, itty-bitty waif models and nasty comments from jerks--eating only a leaf of lettuce or vomiting our dinner. At what point does food become a frightening enemy? 

Despite all the stories I've heard and facts I've learned, questions still lurk in my head. How do you make the jump from counting calories to starving to death? What responsibility does society have in perpetuating the ideal of thinness? But most of all, when is thin, thin enough?"