uncomfortable

i was supposed to have a simple, uneventful meal with my two-year-old daughter this evening at the deli-style restaurant across the road. pizza bagels for myself and grilled cheese for the kid. but ten minutes or so into our supper, i noticed a family of four (mom, dad, sister, brother) seated about three tables away from us featuring an interesting dynamic. the daughter, maybe 19 or 20 years old, was clearly anorexic. she was extremely pale, her eyes were sunken, her arms were skeletal, and she kept staring at herself in the ceiling mirror above her head. and over the course of the next twenty or thirty minutes, she did not place even one bite of her giant caesar salad into her mouth. she played with her fork on several occasions, but not once did she draw that fork anywhere near her lips. almost as painful was watching the expression on her mother's face as mom pretended not to notice her daughter's struggle. in fact, from where i was seated, not a single word was exchanged amongst the family members throughout the duration of their meal. (how do you know that she was anorexic? maybe she was suffering from another illness? why didn't you mind your own business? why didn't you focus your attention on your daughter? why don't you spare us your hollow pity?) it made me contemplate how insignificant a behaviour like eating is to an individual like myself. i never really think about what it is that i'm doing while i shove a forkful of meat or pasta into my mouth. after all, to me it's just food. but i suppose to that girl in the restaurant, putting a fork into her mouth is one of the most formidable tasks that she will ever face in her lifetime. and to her parents and sibling, watching that battle unfold on a daily basis must be taking its toll.