What made you realize there was something “off” about your family?

The System of Control and the Secret Sewing Circle

My father weighed us every morning and locked women in empty rooms for gaining even half a pound. So, I taught everyone to manipulate their weight with wrestling tricks until he discovered our secret and tried to force us into treatment facilities. That’s when things really got crazy.

In my house, women got weighed every morning at 6:00 a.m. sharp. If you gained even half a pound, you were locked in the empty bedroom without food until you lost it.

My mom spent three days in there once because she retained water during her period. When she came out, her lips were cracked and she could barely stand, but she smiled and thanked my father for helping her stay beautiful. I was just eight years old at the time and I thought that’s just how life was.

So by the time I turned 15, I’d seen my sister pass out twice, my cousin sneaking water from the bathroom tap, and my aunt teaching her daughter to make herself throw up after family dinners. The men would eat full plates while we picked at salads, calculating every bite.

The rules were simple. Step on the scale every morning in front of your father or husband. If the number went up, you went to the room. No exceptions, no excuses, except of course for pregnancy. But even then, you had six weeks after birth to get back to your marriage weight or you’d be sent back to the room.

And one day, I was graced with something beautiful. Not pregnancy, it was a hobby. Wrestling because it was wrestling season at school and that’s when I had my light bulb moment.

I watched boys dropping five pounds overnight for weigh-ins using water manipulation. They’d dehydrate before weighing then rehydrate after. It was dangerous but it was temporary.

I became obsessed with weight manipulation techniques. Caffeine pills as diuretics. Helps you pee more. The exact timing of water intake. How to drop three pounds overnight and gain it back by noon without anyone noticing.

But I couldn’t keep this to myself. Not when my 12-year-old cousin was crying with hunger every day. Not when my sister was losing her hair from malnutrition.

So, I started a sewing circle every Thursday afternoon, teaching the girls in my family to embroider. Except between the stitches, I taught them other things. How to use natural diuretics the night before weigh-ins, how to wake up at 4:00 a.m. to sweat in garbage bags, then shower before the 6:00 a.m. weigh-in. How to use those hydration packets to put into your water afterwards.

We got scientific about it, tracking our cycles to know when we’d retain water, taking measurements to prove we weren’t actually gaining fat even if the scale fluctuated. Some girls learned to manipulate their weight by five pounds in either direction, eating full meals while still hitting their morning numbers, all to avoid the room.

But I taught them something else, too. How to document everything. I showed them how to take photos of the scale readings, how to record the sound of locks clicking, how to hide phones in the punishment room. We kept medical records showing the dangerous dehydration cycles we were forcing on our bodies. Six months into our sewing circle, everything fell apart.