A few months later, I cut it off into a short undercut, putting the hair safely out of my mouth’s reach once and for all. Over time, I started cutting my hair shorter and shorter to keep it away from my mouth when I decided to grow it out past my shoulders during the first year of university, I couldn’t help but pull out chunks of hair again to chew. When my mom told me to stop relentlessly chewing my hair, I began hiding behind books or my hands so she wouldn’t catch me in the act. Once people tried to keep me from eating things, I started to slip items into my pockets to eat later when no one was around.
I would mumble words while gnawing on small bits of plastic at the back of my mouth if people asked what I was eating, I’d panic and swallow. I remember the hot shame and guilt I felt when people caught me in the act - when yet another teacher told me to take that pencil out of my mouth, or when my best friend shot me disgusted looks as I chewed on a pink eraser until it disappeared. I loved the feeling and taste of cotton fibers - they were so chewy, and I enjoyed pulling them out one thread at a time. I also have an oversized comfortable jacket I stole from my dad when I was young, the corners of the collar chewed off to reveal the fluffy stuffing inside. There’s a photo of me in my kindergarten classroom with the bear hanging from my mouth, chewing away on the loop. I once had a plaid teddy bear on its head was a little loop of material that could be used to hang the bear up. After entering school, I switched to pencils and erasers. I’ve been consuming items that aren’t food since I was a toddler eating sand.
Years later, while reading the book White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi for a university course, I would finally discover that my need to eat things had a name: pica. I relished the paper’s grainy taste, and the way it dissolved into a wet, chewy mass in my mouth.Īnd it wasn’t just paper that I craved-all kinds of non-food items routinely ended up in my mouth. I ate many kinds of paper back then, but comic covers were undoubtedly my favorite. I knew the dyes in the paper couldn’t be good for me still, I couldn’t stop. Then I would slowly rip off pieces of the back covers and eat them until there was nothing left. When I was younger, I would lie in bed and read stacks of Archie comics. Most people know about bulimia and anorexia.
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