Each slipped into a new dress, tags still on, then stepped out to show the other. Emma’s dress clung to her, and she watched as Maddy stepped into the hallway between the two fitting rooms. Maddy’s dress was bunching in places, sagging in others, as if she were a young girl playing dress-up in her mom’s clothes. Yet she hadn’t chosen the wrong size; she had grabbed dresses in the size 4 she had always worn in high school. Emma didn’t mention it.
The two kept slipping into other dresses, then stepping out to show each other, and eventually each settled on one, though Emma thought the outfit Madison chose was still too big on her. When Emma dropped off Maddy an hour later, she couldn’t stop thinking about what her friend had been trying to tell her as they walked between stores. She pulled out her iPhone to send Maddy a message and noticed that her friend had already messaged her.
Madison: Currently with Trisha venting about my life haha idk what to do
Emma: I know I thought more about it once I dropped you off
Emma: I wanna talk about it more but the mall was not a good setting
Madison: Yeah we need to
Emma: Ya agreed
Madison: And what do ya think?
Emma: I know it’s a tough position but I really think you should stick out the year at upenn and then decide
Madison: I’m just so stuck about it all.
Emma: I know that’s not what you want to hear but I really think that’s the best idea
Madison: And quit track? I fucking hate it
Emma: Like so much you don’t think you could finish out the year?
Madison: I have zero fun/enjoyment doing it at this point
Madison: legit.
On New Year’s Eve everyone went over to Emma’s to get ready: Maddy, Justine, Jackie, Erin. The plan was to go to a party at the house of a girl from their class at Northern Highlands. Madison had brought with her the dress from Forever 21. She put on the outfit and suddenly realized it didn’t fit at all. Her friends looked at her. “Maddy, how are you so skinny?” they asked. “I don’t know,” she said finally. She began looking through Emma’s closet for something else to wear. Eventually, after trying on a number of dresses and finding that none fit, she grabbed a skirt, size 0, that managed to stay just above her hips.
Madison had been particular about food for years. And how could she not be? She was an athlete, a runner, and even during high school, when she went out to dinner with her family, she would order a salad while her parents and siblings ordered burgers and fries. They came to accept this about her, though Ashley would occasionally dangle a piece of pizza in front of her sister’s nose and taunt, “Come on, you know you want some.” Still, Maddy rarely ate anything that wasn’t proper fuel for running—except when she was drunk. Then she would occasionally eat pizza, having clouded the part of her mind that policed food intake. Whenever this happened, she’d wake up early the next morning and go running, a kind of double penance for indulgence.
She especially liked peanut butter, and during her freshman year at Penn, she wrote a paper about her favorite food for an Intro Sociology class:
Some things never change. My favorite food, for example, has remained the same for as long as I can remember. Like many Americans, I grew up eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on a regular basis. Although my diet has expanded largely over the years and I am more willing to try new and diverse foods, something within me always brings me back to this one sandwich. It offers an instantaneous regression to my childhood. Although the employees at The Bridge Café on the University of Pennsylvania campus often give me a strange look when I place my order, nothing hinders my daily desire for the simplicity of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich…
The various social factors that have had a large influence on shaping my food practices are my family, our demographic background, and our financial and economic status. My hometown, Allendale, is a very affluent and costly town in northern New Jersey with high-class education and high taxes. In addition to this, I grew up living with four other siblings. My parents could not afford to provide money for each of us to individually buy lunch at school everyday. Faced with this challenge, my siblings and I resorted to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as an affordable, simple and satisfying lunch.
For the past five to six years I set my own boundaries regarding the nutrition value of my foods because of my devotion to running. As a serious and competitive track athlete, I stay on a fairly regimented diet composed of fruits, vegetables, chicken, fish, granola bars, protein bars, and of course peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. However, the more popular and well-known brands of peanut butter such as Skippy, Jiff, and Peter Pan are not particularly “healthy.” During my childhood I did not necessarily care about the brand because I was not too concerned with nutrition, but now health plays a vital part of my life since my performance in track depends in large part on my eating habits. Now I only eat organic, all natural peanut butter. As a good source of protein, carbs, and healthy fats, athletes such as myself commonly indulge in the peanut butter and jelly sandwich because of its healthy attributes.
Madison was particular about what she put in her body. However, that Christmas break, she did very little in moderation. The shift was slight, and easily explained—that is, if anyone was trying to explain it, which they weren’t. Over break, Maddy wanted her good friends close, just the small group of them. Drinking excessively during winter break is hardly unusual behavior among teenagers and college students. In some ways, the more unusual occurrence would be a young person who has already mastered the art of moderation. When she went to the gym, often with Brooke, Madison would push herself harder than anyone else. During one workout Brooke looked over at her friend, who was on the bike, and thought it looked as if Maddy was trying to sweat something out of her body. She looked ferocious, desperate. Her head was down, sweat was pouring from her temples, her legs pumping as if on the final stretch of an uphill sprint. What was motivating her in that moment? Brooke wondered. But then she stopped wondering. She and Maddy had been close during high school, but they were the kind of friends who goofed off and laughed together, everything light and easy. Except for soccer, of course—that had always been serious for both of them.
Brooke,